By Baba Galleh Jallow

Our little town was not unblessed in its prayers to the powers that they grant our common townsfolk some guidance and light in those dark days of heathenism and spiritual blindness. Month after month, year after year, our common townsfolk prayed for salvation, for protection, for a light that would rise from the dark and shine its rays on the slippery paths of life. At long last, their prayers seemed to have been answered when a flamboyant guy who called himself the Guardian materialized on the scene. He was immediately welcomed with open arms and joined the crowds of our jubilant common townsfolk in rendering thanks and praises to the powers for sending them this gem of a townsfolk who, by his very first actions, showed that the dark forces of this evil world could easily be dispelled with the proper lighting, the obsequious peep, and the ultimate unmasking that could only be performed by folks of such superior intellectual clout and intelligence as himself, the one and only Chickenbrain Rattlemouth, alias Blokey Pokey of hum hum fame.

Now Chickenbrain Rattlemouth was one of those well-endowed folks who were absolutely certain that whatever they thought in their minds was a manifestation of the absolute reality. He never could have been appointed by the powers as the Guardian of our common townsfolk in those troubled days had facts and reality not been planted in his soul long before he was even born. Why else should he find himself in our little town and see himself as the pious guardian of the lost, the light that expels the darkness from the world if he weren’t blessed with the power to think in facts rather than in thoughts like other common folks? How else could he have been called Blokey Pokey of hum hum fame had he not been the naturally chosen and appointed dude with the piercing and infallible mind that could see beyond all the layers of fake meaning with which scheming hypocrites and sneaking parasites try to hide their nefarious designs and dark motives? Indeed, how could he have been possibly called, at birth, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth when his brain was but a dot and his mouth far from the days when it could offer the slightest coherent and intelligible syllable if he was not destined to become, as he became, the infallible and discerning guardian of our common townsfolk in those troubled days of pious demons and innocent looking monsters that pounce upon the unwary and try to hide in plain sight while acting out their evil deeds? No, it could not have been so in any possible way. The future was in the past and the past, well, that ruled the future in the clever personal philosophy of our indomitable Chickenbrain Rattlemouth, alias Blokey Pokey of hum hum fame.

And so having established himself as the ultimate Guardian of our little town, Blokey Pokey set out his schedule of daily activities, making certain that he left ample time and energy for the tasks of guarding and guiding some of the redeemable lost souls of our common townsfolk. So every day, and at every moment of the day and night, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth would make the usual discreet rounds around the silent and dark corners of our little town, taking particular care to creep stealthily among the dark shadows of the notorious alleys and carefully listen to obnoxious gossip or peep into dark nooks and crannies totally confident of catching some sneaky devil in the act or exposing some pious hypocrite or fly by night who paraded themselves as upright dudes during the day. Blokey Pokey particularly watched out for those of our common townsfolk who thought the world was a stage upon which they could act out their nefarious scripts, pretending to be this when they are that, pretending to say this when they mean that. That kind of hypocrite so angered our pious Blokey Pokey that he always took a minute to weep and whimper and angrily shake his head before taking note of the odious crimes that were to be brutally exposed to the amazed attention of our common townsfolk.

Sometimes, when he was at his best, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth, alias Blokey Pokey of hum hum fame, would pretend to be just a humble folk with no merit of note and no secret powers of discernment. In his guise of the humble innocent, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth would kindly smile and munch his cheeks and peer softly around as he mingled with some of our unwary common townsfolk. At such times, he was quick to offer some lofty yeses and vigorously nod his head in agreement with any and every opinion expressed by even the most unsophisticated of our common townsfolk. He would loudly laugh and hail all hi and say what a pleasure it was to learn so much in so little time. Having his full of the odious gossip, Blokey Pokey would kindly excuse himself with profuse apologies as befitted a true gent and walk quietly away.

As soon as he was out of sight of the chatting dudes, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth would get the Angry Poots and squat to the ground. He would slap himself and loudly wail and bitterly weep at the stupid audacity of those stupid folks. What had our world come to when we had such sloppy snakes! Such daft ignoramuses that strut around pretending to be wise! The very monstrosity of the idea made Blokey Pokey so mad that he would eat some sand and say a hundred hum to placate his soul and muster the will to carry on doing the good work that he was doing for our ignorant common townsfolk. Come rain come shine, he was going to shine the way!

Thus pacified in body and soul, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth would immediately proceed to the general meeting place at the center of our little town. There, he would launch into a serious and vigorous lecture about the evils of hidden deeds and the virtues of pious thought. He would wax lyrical and loudly rattle his moral saber and shake his captive audience to its core by deploying some really fantastic pointers to what he called the one and only Good Way. He would warn our common townsfolk of the evils of know-it-all and condemn the habit of pretending to be tall when you were nothing but a moral and intellectual midget of embarrassing proportions. His lectures never failed to elicit the most generous praises from our common townsfolk. When they asked him how come he knew all this hidden stuff, Chickenbrain Rattlemouth would slowly raise his arms to heaven and heave a heavy sigh and smile the Blokey Pokey smile. Then, in measured tones and honeyed tongue, he would drop his arms and kindly smile and shake his head and gently say, “well, you know, no tree is too tall to climb, if you know what I mean. To not see is see, to not know is know, wiri wiri ndaari.” Some of our common townsfolk would get so carried away by these ancient yet modern words of wisdom that they would swoon while others would loudly hail him Sir and called him Peeeep, Mbarass, and Wachabess!!