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
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