The New Brew

It was news all over the village to those in the know. The village brewer had added a new brew to her menu. And it was proving to be a hit. It was a bit pricey, taking a better part of a day’s earnings out of one’s pocket but...for saliva's sake!...was it worth it!

He worked hard that day at his sand dredging labour, determined to make more than normal so that he could sample the new brew that evening.

So the day passed and evening came when the cattle, tired and exhausted from a day of eating and moving from place to place to eat some more, walk into the kraals and the dogs find comfy nooks and curl up, always alert for the odd bit of bone thrown their way and the chickens quieten down their incessant pecking at the ground and the children gather round the fireplace as the mothers cook the evening meal and the men of the village gather at the village brewer’s to slack the thirst scratching in their throats.

The new brew was the star, of course, and he was delighted with it. He ordered gourd after gourd. And the night deepened and soon it was time when the gathered men started dispersing, each to his home. He did the same and stumbled home singing his heart out on the way.

Well, he got lost but he didn’t know he was lost. So let’s go with him as he stumbles and staggers and sings and talks to himself and laughs at his own wonderful jokes. Let’s go with him as he says, ‘Ah! Finally home!’ Let’s go with him as he enters and sits down and makes himself comfortable and starts calling for his wife to bring him his evening meal.

Let’s see him work himself up as she does not answer. Let’s see him make such a cacophony of noise that the villagers are roused from their slumber and start flocking in the direction of the noise. To the village church where they find him yelling at the top of his voice for his evening meal…

Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2019

The Ghost In The Mill

When he snuck inside the place that night and found a nice comfortable spot and slept peacefully throughout the night, little did he know what a commotion he would cause early the next morning...

In the village, the day broke. A wonderful sunrise enveloped everything, casting mesmerising shadows and the light rain that had fallen in the wee hours of the night, added freshness to the air and aroma to the ground. Everything glowed anew; the trees, the dogs, the cattle, the goats, the sheep, the chickens, the children, the women and the men.

Women busied themselves with various chores; some to draw water, some cooking the early morning meal on their fires, some to the fields to till the land, some to the forest to collect firewood and some to the maize mill to have their maize converted to flour.

Let’s follow these women flocking to the maize mill. We see them approaching the maize mill. We see the owner of the maize mill emerging from his nearby house with keys in hand and going to the door of his mill. We see him fumbling with the lock. We see him succeed in opening the door and we see...

...what is it?...

From inside the maize mill, here comes an apparition, stumbling about. The assembled women take one look and hysteria invades them. They scream and scatter about. The owner himself feels his heart jump into his mouth and involuntarily feels his legs speed away at the sight of the white figure...

⧫⧫⧫

He woke up to the beautiful sounds of the cockerel and the faint light streaming through the shutters of the building. He could hear the distant sounds of the early morning activities outside issuing from the villagers. Into his conscious, came the realisation and remembrance that he had best go as he the owner of the place would not be pleased with him if he found him there.

But he soon realised that he must have overslept because he could already hear the sound of keys at the door. Well, there was no help for it but to face the music. He got up, rubbing the sleep from his red eyes and stumbling to the open door, he sprang out into the open air...

...and was amazed by the commotion that unfolded before his eyes. Women were screaming and running away and even the owner of the maize mill was hurrying away, with a look of fear on his face. Why?

⧫⧫⧫

The owner of maize mill soon regained his presence of mind and reason reasserted itself over his fright. He looked again at the apparition and through the whiteness which enveloped the whole being, which he now perceived was a heavy coat of flour, he recognised the village idiot!

So much for the juicy story of the ghost that turned out not to be a ghost at all. Still the village spent a whole day tittering about the terror the idiot had caused.

Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2019

The Dog That Stole But Was Not A Thief

They sent the child to purchase the small fish colloquially known in this part of the world as ‘bonya’. This would be their lunch, as well as supper, for the day. The child dutifully embarked on her errand to the market, successfully buying the treasured relish packed in a small plastic paper bag. She proceeded to saunter jauntily back home.

Suddenly, a dog appeared and before anyone could react, it snatched the packet out of the child’s hand and ran for it. No-one managed to catch the dog and the child was left reduced to tears.

Meanwhile, back home, the parents were busy doing their various chores. The mother was busy in the kitchen preparing other food as she awaited the relish the child had gone to purchase. What was her amazement when she saw an unfamiliar dog, carrying in its mouth a plastic bag and trotting towards her! It dropped the packet at her feet and swiftly went away. The woman opened the paper bag and saw it was full of ‘bonya’. She was amazed and confused at the occurrence and was busy discussing the strange incident with her husband when they heard crying and saw their daughter coming towards them, weeping her eyes out.

When the two stories were full on the table, everyone was astonished and perplexed.

Of course, when strange things happen, it is man’s nature to put them down to the unnatural. Thus, the community ironically deduced that the dog that had stolen was not a thief and was not a dog but something else entirely. What it was is up to the imagination of the supernatural.

Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2019

The Carrier Pigeon And Its Ignominious Fate

It came one day from the sky. And the people in the village were excited and bewildered; they had never seen such a thing before.

The pigeon had a piece of paper tied to its neck and this, in this part of the world, was a very strange thing. They caught it and untied the piece of paper to see what it was.

It was a message but in a language none of them could read. So they searched throughout the village for someone who could read it. Eventually, after a day, someone was found who could read it. It turned out to be a mediocre message, meant for someone to go to South Africa. Nevertheless, everyone agreed that it was a very strange way to convey a message in these days of cell phones.

While the whole village was abuzz with this strange occurrence and were engrossed in discussing it, one man viewed the whole issue in a very different way. To him, his interest lay in the pigeon itself, not the message. He strode up to the place where the pigeon was and grabbed it and, before anyone could blink, twisted its neck. He then proceeded to unfeather it and eventually to cook it.

It was a shocking way of ending the discussion. The crowd slowly dispersed with him sitting under the eaves of a tree over a fire, with his braii on a stick, singing a hymn happily as he slowly but surely chomped away at his meal.

Peculiar News Compilation
'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2019

Picking Pumpkins

It boils down to theft, of course. But, I guess, in her defence we can look at her desire to feed her children, one of whom was strapped to her back.

She knew the pumpkins in the old man’s field were particularly tasty. Maybe, it was not the first time she had picked them from it. So it was with this knowledge that she made her way there to pick up some. Otherwise, other fields could have served just as well.

She furtively entered the field, the maize crop shielding her from spying eyes. She harvested three well ripened pumpkins. Not satisfied, she decided to harvest a fourth one. She stooped to pick it up but try as she might she couldn’t get it off the ground. Puzzled, she put down the other three pumpkins and redoubled her effort to pick up the difficult pumpkin.

She managed to pick it up and now in a hurry to get out of the field, she stooped again to pick up the other three and was puzzled again when she couldn’t pick them up! She strived rigorously, sweat cascading down her face and panic mounting in her breast.

Something clicked in her mind that she had better get out of the field. But when she tried to drop the pumpkin in her hand, she couldn’t! She flailed her arms about but the pumpkin stayed in her arms.

Horrified she started shrieking. The baby on her back, startled by her mother’s cries, started wailing as well. The noise attracted the attention of passers-by who rushed to her aid and were also baffled by the occurrence. Some ran to get the old man, who calmly told them to get the village chief and meet him in his field.

In time, everything was sorted out. The old man ‘released’ the pumpkin from the woman’s hand, who by now was in such hysterics no one had the heart to berate her so much. Nevertheless, the village chief fined the woman who, horrified and ashamed, slunk off to her home where she stayed inside her house for several days.

And the village, for several days, also fed on the wondrous occurrence.

Peculiar News Compilation

'The Telling Is Mine; The Story Is Not'
© Dingiswayo Allan Sambo 2019