Kraalkop

A large group of tourists had gathered around the Zulu kraal. Rain today which means blessing. The small grass huts with cow patty floors been swept clean for the ritual to begin. The witchdoctor who had been hypnotically swirling for the last twenty minutes and now started chiming. The group who up to this stage were entranced by the performance couldn’t understand her language. Was it part of the show? The hillside they were situated on was rich with history. The parts of Northern KwaZulu Natal with British battle stories in the hundreds. She rang again. Maybe it was a call from the ancestors. That would be blasphemous.

“Hello!?” A high frequency tone on the phone for about thirty seconds. The group listened intently. The witch doctor nodded in understanding. A prediction perhaps. She puts down the phone and looks intently into the distance. “Funeral cover.”