The art of being a charlatan is as old as sin itself. And the gullibility of those driven to seek their esteemed advice is so vastly amazing that Satan himself is probably being constantly surprised and wonderfully amused. And when charlatanism and witchcraft are mixed, the force for illusion and deception is multiplied tenfold; credulousness multiplies proportionately.
Throw in desperation and delusions of grandeur and the results can be tragically hilarious and incredible. Over the course of time, countless people have fallen prey to the promises of charlatans and quacks; and the lesson has never been learnt nor will it.
He was no exception. He wanted to get rich. And when the charlatan witchdoctor promised him that, yes, he would get rich, he salivated. The normal reservations that came into his mind when he heard the witchdoctor’s procedure, he rationalized by his belief that the procedure was so extraordinary, such that it really would work.
He was to drink the mixture the witchdoctor was to give him and after he was dead, his wife was to pick the maggots that came out of his body and store them. After a week, he would arise and the maggots would be cash.
He went home and told his wife all about the procedure; she did take some convincing but eventually she bought into the plan, the allure of wealth being too strong. He drank the mixture and after some time, sure enough, the convulsions started, the froth came out of his mouth, his eyes rolled backwards and...he was dead.
The wife wrapped his body and buried it in the other room and waited for the maggots. When the maggots came, she braved the smell; she picked them and stored them. But the week passed and the corpse did not resurrect nor did the maggots turn into cash. The stench became unbearable and the suspicious villagers came knocking at the door...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2018
Thursday, 22 March 2018
The Strongman
You wouldn’t have wanted to pick an argument with him, give him an insolent look or attempt to steal anything of his, or, much less, make moves on his wife. He was a man of few words; he preferred action. He expressed his words in the puffed up faces, split lips, lost teeth, broken ribs and aching bodies of all who crossed him. He wrote his words with a violence that earned him a nasty reputation around the countryside.
But where initially there had been grudging respect from the men and shy admiration from the women, now began a discontent against him because, lately, he had become exceedingly aggressive and indiscriminate. So people covertly resolved to deal with him. But how?
The fateful day came when one unfortunate soul got into an altercation with the Hercules. He was being beaten so badly that people saw that if they didn’t intervene, death was just a few blows away from the poor soul. Some men then rushed to the wife of the Hercules; maybe she could convince her husband to let up. The wife listened quietly and quickly got up but, to their surprise, she didn’t run in the direction of the fight but behind their house, where she rummaged about in the bushes. She found what she was looking for; a weird bundle of cloth and sticks and…the Lord only knows what else. She swiftly untied it and calmly walked back into her house and closed the door.
At the fight, the change was immediate. The Hercules staggered with a look of surprise and alarm on his face. The poor soul, who had by now been beaten so badly, even felt it because he was able to parry the next blow, and in a last-ditch attempt, he threw his arm in a wide arc, conking out in the process. The arm hit the Hercules and had the effect of cutting his forehead. Thereupon, one brave soul, also feeling a change in the tide of strength, rushed the Hercules. And poor Hercules got beaten so badly in turn...
It is still not clear what prompted the wife to betray her husband. Could it be that she also suffered at his hands? Could it be her secret sweetheart who had taken the heavy beating? Could it…? All we can do is speculate as she remains close lipped and the Hercules is now just another ordinary guy who can be beaten any time of the day...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2018
But where initially there had been grudging respect from the men and shy admiration from the women, now began a discontent against him because, lately, he had become exceedingly aggressive and indiscriminate. So people covertly resolved to deal with him. But how?
The fateful day came when one unfortunate soul got into an altercation with the Hercules. He was being beaten so badly that people saw that if they didn’t intervene, death was just a few blows away from the poor soul. Some men then rushed to the wife of the Hercules; maybe she could convince her husband to let up. The wife listened quietly and quickly got up but, to their surprise, she didn’t run in the direction of the fight but behind their house, where she rummaged about in the bushes. She found what she was looking for; a weird bundle of cloth and sticks and…the Lord only knows what else. She swiftly untied it and calmly walked back into her house and closed the door.
At the fight, the change was immediate. The Hercules staggered with a look of surprise and alarm on his face. The poor soul, who had by now been beaten so badly, even felt it because he was able to parry the next blow, and in a last-ditch attempt, he threw his arm in a wide arc, conking out in the process. The arm hit the Hercules and had the effect of cutting his forehead. Thereupon, one brave soul, also feeling a change in the tide of strength, rushed the Hercules. And poor Hercules got beaten so badly in turn...
It is still not clear what prompted the wife to betray her husband. Could it be that she also suffered at his hands? Could it be her secret sweetheart who had taken the heavy beating? Could it…? All we can do is speculate as she remains close lipped and the Hercules is now just another ordinary guy who can be beaten any time of the day...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2018
The Distinguished Guest At The Funeral
The gathering is a sombre affair. People are speaking in hushed murmurs and whispers. Faces are appropriately closed up with expressions of prim gravity. The heartbroken cries of the women slice the solemn atmosphere, scratching agony and sorrow into the heart of the ear...
The ceremony of the funeral of the young man is at an advanced stage and the sad crowd respectfully stand up as it is now time to escort the deceased to his final resting place at the graveyard. As per custom, the men rush to carry the coffin and gently place it in the back of the pickup truck that will transport it at a dignified and serious pace to the cemetery. The driver starts the car and moves forward and the assembled people move in step.
Suddenly there is shouting in front and a commotion arises spreading like a ripple in a pool throughout the crowd. Shouts of confounded disbelief; excited yells of baffled incredulity; sceptical scoffs of cynicism; hysterical screams of terror from the women and girls. Women are seen running away; men are seen scattering into nearby fields; but some brave souls are seen rushing forward...
...after a figure that is a little ahead.
What is happening? Who is he? What has he done? Has he stolen something?...
Soon it becomes clear what has occurred. The figure in front is none other than the deceased young man himself. There he is! Running towards the graveyard at great pace. The courageous men running after him also quicken their pace and run hard and fast. He runs into the graveyard with the brave souls at his heels. And for a space of time, time is suspended as people hold their breath. After an unbearable pause in the stitch of time, people see the brave souls coming out of the graveyard. They report that as soon as they entered the graveyard, they lost sight of the young man...
When things settle down somewhat, there is still the coffin lying in state in the pickup. The body is still there but now everyone is sceptical of it and fearful. Nevertheless, it must be disposed of. The crowd, what is left of it, enter the graveyard and with constant, jittery looks around, swiftly conduct a much shortened version of the burial. Even the gravediggers do not do a proper job of covering up the coffin...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2017
The ceremony of the funeral of the young man is at an advanced stage and the sad crowd respectfully stand up as it is now time to escort the deceased to his final resting place at the graveyard. As per custom, the men rush to carry the coffin and gently place it in the back of the pickup truck that will transport it at a dignified and serious pace to the cemetery. The driver starts the car and moves forward and the assembled people move in step.
Suddenly there is shouting in front and a commotion arises spreading like a ripple in a pool throughout the crowd. Shouts of confounded disbelief; excited yells of baffled incredulity; sceptical scoffs of cynicism; hysterical screams of terror from the women and girls. Women are seen running away; men are seen scattering into nearby fields; but some brave souls are seen rushing forward...
...after a figure that is a little ahead.
What is happening? Who is he? What has he done? Has he stolen something?...
Soon it becomes clear what has occurred. The figure in front is none other than the deceased young man himself. There he is! Running towards the graveyard at great pace. The courageous men running after him also quicken their pace and run hard and fast. He runs into the graveyard with the brave souls at his heels. And for a space of time, time is suspended as people hold their breath. After an unbearable pause in the stitch of time, people see the brave souls coming out of the graveyard. They report that as soon as they entered the graveyard, they lost sight of the young man...
When things settle down somewhat, there is still the coffin lying in state in the pickup. The body is still there but now everyone is sceptical of it and fearful. Nevertheless, it must be disposed of. The crowd, what is left of it, enter the graveyard and with constant, jittery looks around, swiftly conduct a much shortened version of the burial. Even the gravediggers do not do a proper job of covering up the coffin...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2017
The Married Guy Lovestruck... Not With His Wife
A love enchanted dude was caught by his wife making moves on her mother!
He was telling his mother-in-law that she was more beautiful than her daughter and he was regretting not meeting her, the mother, first.
The wife was irate and the mother was upset too. Together, they ganged up on the poor love struck fella and gave him a tongue lashing as only women can give which consequently drew the whole village's attention.
Awkward...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
He was telling his mother-in-law that she was more beautiful than her daughter and he was regretting not meeting her, the mother, first.
The wife was irate and the mother was upset too. Together, they ganged up on the poor love struck fella and gave him a tongue lashing as only women can give which consequently drew the whole village's attention.
Awkward...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
The Dead Old Woman Who Refused To Be Buried
Grave diggers were left very exhausted and wonderfully puzzled when a grave for an old deceased woman kept filling back up.
They would dig up to neck level and then, inexplicably, would find that the grave was only up to knee level. Several attempts to dig the required six feet deep proved futile. So in anger and bafflement, they buried the old woman at knee level.
Needless to say, everyone is uneasy because knee level does not give a good guarantee that the old woman shall not rise again...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
The Man With The Pocket Whirlwind
A certain dude was heavily beaten up at our Lunzu Trading Centre in Blantyre, Malawi, on suspicion that he was moving around with a 'kamvulumvulu' (tornado or whirlwind) in his pocket.
Every time he passed by this particular market, people would notice a whirlwind. And, unaccountably, they would notice some of their money would go missing. It took several such strange occurrences like this for people to put two and two and then six and six together to come to the all perfect conclusion that the whirlwinds were being 'thrown' by the man..
So he needed to be taught a lesson to take his magic elsewhere. Next time they saw him, the irate crowd accosted him and duly proceeded to sort him out...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
Every time he passed by this particular market, people would notice a whirlwind. And, unaccountably, they would notice some of their money would go missing. It took several such strange occurrences like this for people to put two and two and then six and six together to come to the all perfect conclusion that the whirlwinds were being 'thrown' by the man..
So he needed to be taught a lesson to take his magic elsewhere. Next time they saw him, the irate crowd accosted him and duly proceeded to sort him out...
Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2015
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)