“It was always my dream to become the best rapper in Africa, even the best in the whole world, if it was possible,” Dumo said. “I knew very well that such a dream would require a lot from me. You cannot just dream of becoming the best and then it just happens. You have to work for it. Not just work, though, but you have to work hard to reach such level.

“With all the ambitions I had, all the money, the fame, and the power I wanted, this is where it has put me. I now wish I had never wanted all of these things because they have brought nothing but sadness in my heart and to my family.

“Elilizwe asilikweleti kwanto mntanam (We do not owe this world anything),” my mother used to say. “Asikho isizathu sokuba sibulaleke ngenxa yalo (There is no reason for us to suffer because of it),” Dumo recalled his mother’s words.

The crowd clapped, admiring Dumo and his mother’s words.

“Yes, we never had to suffer for this world or because of it, but what can one do if the world is watching him and rejoices every time he falls? Does he have any other option but to get up and prove to the world otherwise?” Dumo asked, standing up from where he was seating.

He had dimly lit the room he was recording himself in, and as Khwezi and Ziphiwo watched on, they did not recognise the place Dumo was in. It was not in one of his houses, or any hotel whatsoever.

“Where is this place?” Ziphiwo asked Khwezi.

Khwezi shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe he bought a new house,” she responded.

They continued watching until Dumo switched on the lights. Now the room finally became bright because of the bright lights. Behind Dumo, there was a ladder reaching the roof, and when he zoomed the camera, it showed a rope hanging from the roof. Khwezi and Ziphiwo gasped at the sight, and they could see from the stage that the crowd was also beginning to panic.

“Khwezi, my sister, and Ziphiwo, my love, I am sorry I have to do this,” Dumo said, climbing the ladder. “But I cannot live with this guilt anymore.”

Khwezi took her phone and tried calling Dumo, but his cell phone went straight to voicemail.

“I know you are probably trying to call me, but all my phones are off,” Dumo said, speaking with a broken smile. “And I am doing this for you. I am fixing my mistakes. I should have sacrificed myself instead of her.”

Khwezi and Ziphiwo started crying, not knowing what to do. If only they knew where he was or if they could speak to him over the phone, then maybe they could convince him to stop whatever he was doing.

“I loved my mother, our mother, with all my heart,” Dumo continued, climbing the ladder. “She was the reason I wished for a better life, and she was the reason I wanted to achieve this much. All the monies I have, the fame, and everything that comes with it, they are all useless now. I mean, how can one enjoy his riches if he is not happy? This money killed my mother, so tonight I am ending everything. No member of my family will ever be sacrificed for the sake of money.”

The crowd was quiet, as if they were seeing a ghost. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the big screen, hoping that what they were seeing would not really happen.

Tell us: What do you think is going to happen next?