The Sheeks and the Goats Revisited
 
By Baba Galleh Jallow
 
These were strange times in No-Talk Republic, everyone agreed. There was little doubt that these were the end of times. There had been talk of the end of times many times before, when times looked strange and unnatural. But all those times had come to pass. Now, there was just no doubt about it because things never seen and never heard of were happening before the naked and tear-filled eyes of the bewildered people of our country.
 
The great consternation and resounding hue and cry in No-Talk Republic bounced back from the skies and drove all the birds from the land. The trees now stood naked and leafless, the rivers devoid of fish and crabs. Even the toads in the swamps and ponds had hopped away from the deafening noise raised by the distraught inhabitants of No-Talk Republic. Scenes of people beating their hands and heads against walls and tree trunks and angrily pulling their hair in the streets were common sights in our country these days. The more religious of the people of our amazed land sought refuge in endless prayer, raising their hands to heaven, and banging their foreheads on the ground, repenting for their sins before the sound of the great bugle boomed, announcing the end of days, before the cackling of the great fire from the east came and consumed them. Terrified folks gazed at the skies with tear-filled eyes, wet faces, and running noses, looking for the first signs of the skies beginning to fold, as they must at the end of days.
 
This great consternation in No-Talk Republic was caused by quite an unnatural phenomenon. Over the past few years, the spiritual guardians of the people, the venerable sheeks of the land upon whose holy shoulders the moral edifice of society rested had been willfully reduced to mere goat holders for General Buhubuhu. The enormously wealthy General had recruited the most prominent sheeks of the land and paid them fortunes to abandon their traditional roles as guardians of the people and become instead his royal goat-holders. The sheeks now spent their days and their nights holding still the goats of the land, as their generous patron indulged in his most favorite and hallowed pastime – goat-milking. The venerable General Buhubuhu spent his entire days and nights milking goats. The pious sheeks likewise spent their entire days and nights holding goat. It was a strange spectacle.
 
Every goat was milked, whether it was a male or female goat, for the goats of No-Talk Republic were all milkable. What shocked the people of No-Talk Republic was not General Buhubuhu’s fanatic goat-milking per se, but the enthusiasm with which the pious sheeks plunged into their roles as goat holders for the General. At every milking session, five to six sheeks, their boubous firmly wrapped and securely tucked around their waists, vigorously pounced on the goats and pinned them down so that General Buhubuhu could milk them to his satisfaction. Another couple of sheeks would roughly grab the mouths of the noisy goats so that their bleating would not violate the gentle sensibilities of the great General. Yet another sheek or two would spread their palms or hold their pious caps just under the goats’ backside to make sure that their droppings did not roll anywhere near the venerable person of the spotlessly clad General Buhubuhu. 
 
When the business of goat holding and goat milking reached a fever pitch and General Buhubuhu gently grunted and repeatedly belched with satisfaction at the barrels of milk safely stowed away in his enormous milk tanks, his excitement inevitably rubbed off on the loyal sheeks. At such moments, to make sure that their share of the milk would be particularly generous and their overtime checks particularly smiley, the sheeks would often break out into General Buhubuhu’s favorite song about the kind and gentle caliph whom God loved so much that He gave him enormous herds of willing goats that he could milk all his life and even beyond. General Buhubuhu particularly loved hearing that part of the song that told how God loved this caliph so much that He appointed the best among his people to be his loyal goat-holders. Sometimes, during short breaks when General Buhubuhu’s fingers got tired of forcing the milk out of the goats, one or another of the sheeks would suddenly improvise a heroic poem which he then recites in a pious and melodious tone amid unfailing ululations and shrieks of passion from his fellow sheeks. Sometimes, a sheek or two would suddenly see the light, feel the spirit, prance up, and swirl round and round like the dervishes of old to the utter satisfaction of the cool-eyed General and the utter amazement of the ordinary onlookers of No-Talk Republic. Those sheeks who fell ill and did not have enough energy to physically hold the goats nevertheless dragged themselves to the goat-milking sessions to recite specially composed poetry or sing General Buhubuhu’s favorite song about the great caliph whom God loved so much that He gave him the best among his people to be his loyal goat-holders.
 
It was this strange spectacle of the goat-holding sheeks that convinced the people of No-Talk Republic that the end of days had really come. It was this strange spectacle of the guardians of the people, the custodians of their great traditions of truth and nobility turned into singing and dancing goat-holders for the callous General Buhubuhu that convinced the people of No-Talk Republic that the sound of the feared bugle would soon boom, that the roaring of the great fire would soon cackle in from the east, and that one of these days, a corner of the sky would start rolling and folding like a carpet over their heads, and all the dead of the distant ages would rise from their graves, and the final judgment would be held. 
 
Yet, the sheeks, so engrossed in their lucrative business of goat-holding seemed totally oblivious of what was going on around them. They were totally consumed by the delightful specter of General Buhubuhu milking the goats, by the mouth-watering prospect of getting a generous share of the milk, and the even more delightful prospect of holding those bristling smiley checks in their pious fingers, or stuffing those bulging wads of new smiley bank notes into the great pockets of their generous boubous. For such delightful prospects, yes, they will grab and hold the goats down so General Buhubuhu would cheerfully milk them to his endless satisfaction. And yes, they would sing and compose pious poetry for General Buhubuhu, and they would gladly sing and dance the days and nights away. Were they not God’s pious favorites? How could they enjoy the great honor of being the great General’s loyal goat-holders if God wasn’t pleased with them?
 
But when the sheeks suddenly declared that General Buhubuhu himself was actually the sun, and that he actually manufactured the air, and that he never lied and would never die, and that what the people saw with their own eyes was not what they saw, and that what they felt was not what they felt, and that General Buhubuhu was actually all the people in one, then the people of No-Talk Republic started feeling really sorry for the bearded sheeks, for they knew exactly where they were headed!!
 
 
 
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