Anyone’s guess was as good as another’s. Whatever the reason, the fact of the matter was that King Dabulamanzi was attending the festivities out of coercion, rather than out of a sense of duty. This became evident when he seemed completely out of touch with the reality of the proceedings taking place. In addition, he was spotted more than twice dozing off in his chair and nearly slumping onto the couch.

At one point, he forcibly gave himself the platform to address the crowd, but was snubbed. King Dabulamanzi owed the masses a lot of explanation today. There was an immense amount on pressure placed on him. He needed to clear his name and all the misgivings that people had about him.

One way to do this was to try and take part in the spirit of fun and celebrations. From within the crowd, a woman burst out singing with a cracking sound. The cacophony of her voice was high pitched and metallic, rising and falling like a copper wire cable struck by a strong wind.

King Dabulamanzi awoke to the sound with a start. The King was generally a very shy man. Now, in a rare display, he exploded onto the stage to showcase his dancing skills, amidst mounting boos from the crowd.

“Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!” chanted the crowd, but the King buried his head in the sand.

In a performance clearly calculated to steal the show, the King lifted his right leg high into the air in a trademark Gezi traditional dance. He then let loose his bare feet, and they came tumbling down onto the ground in a spectacular dance move, raising a thin fog of dust. For a long time, the crowd was on the edge of their seats as they watched this scintillating display of fancy footwork.

But then disaster struck. Out of sheer misjudgement, the overzealous King mistimed his landing position in the frenzy of the dance. As a result, he slipped and toppled onto the podium with a shuddering sound that temporarily jolted the earth, like rolling distant thunder. Unfazed, the King picked his bulky self up and launched himself back onto the dance floor with a greater determination.

At this point, things suddenly went horribly wrong. A menacing appendage peeped out from the King’s loins. In its length and girth it resembled the trunk of a baby elephant. It quickly untangled in a long dark mass, like an enraged serpent.

The appendage struck the back of a fellow female dancer with a gentle thud, in much the same way that a stick would fall on the hindquarters of a mare. The King had his work cut out for him as he tried to contain the appendage in his cupped hands, to the horrified fascination of the jovial crowd.

While this theatrical spectacle provided its own thrills and spills, the elders in the crowd were beside themselves with concern. They saw this display as a foreboding sign of bad things to come and they grew increasingly agitated.
A concerned woman observer rushed onto the stage with a cloak to cover the nude form of the King and to save him from prying eyes and a potentially embarrassing situation. She quickly whisked him away. Moments later, the two of them reappeared, with the King dressed in new regalia.

Although King Dabulamanzi had set the tone for an explosive celebratory mood and an electrical atmosphere, it was Deputy King Ncengani’s voice that cut short the fun with a tone of unmistakable authority.

He addressed the crowd with a loud and crisp voice: “And now, my people, a little present for your eyes. This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the unveiling ceremony, so that you can see with your own eyes that the evil pest that has been terrorising us is no more.”

The commotion in the crowd died down, and King Ncengani lifted the haversack high so that its contents could tumble out freely onto the ground. For the second time that night, King Dabulamanzi stared at his Deputy with a malevolent eye filled with rage. The crowd’s attention shifted to the haversack in the air. King Ncengani unknotted the top of the sack.

Beneath his seat, King Dabulamanzi was hard at work performing his magical theatrics. He gesticulated with his head and hands, while issuing verbal commands to as yet unknown sources, like a choirmaster directing a band of opera singers. He continuously tossed two sticks into the air, so that one could have mistaken him for a hired magician performing on a grand stage.

Suddenly, the sack rippled with a violent movement, but there was too much commotion in the crowd for anyone to take notice.

***

Tell us what you think: Why is the sack moving? Is the beast still alive?