A TikTok showing six hyenas crushing a faceless man into chunks of meat reached Musarakuumba. Afterwards, Zakueeua pranked Kanairombe that the chewed to bits shoes belong to Kambangane who’d been missing. 

Luckily, Kambangane had strayed into a bush-fenced graveyard and gathered a bundle of twigs. Immediately, he tripped over an unmarked grave. Instead of running after disturbing the dead, he spotted a finger-like tombstone. Instantly, he pressed his eyes at the deceased person’s name. Suddenly,  his jaws dropped and he cupped his mouth after reading his name written backward on the marble gravestone. 

“When did I die?” he questioned, wagging an index finger at the gravestone.  The date of birth matched his, but a black paint had spilled over the date of death.  Later, he squatted on the red rocks that decorated the gravestone. Then he picked up that the grave had no termite-chewed coffin.  

“They didn’t bury me inside a coffin?” he quizzed, cursing Zakueeua for this grave mistake. Indeed,  it was a bottomless grave and the boiling anger choked him.  In a blink, Kambangane slipped into the grave, but luckily he gripped a chocolate-brown leaf and pulled himself out of the nightfall pit. Then, he removed his sandals and whizzed home. He was behind his elephant’s poo plastered hut, when crocodile tears’ mourners sang his name and marched around a hill-size elephant’s  poo faking his body because he had no cows. His best enemy, Zakueeua tickled the grieving crowd about the day Kambangane took a jolly ride on the wings of a dung-rolling beetle. 

“I’m about to inherit Kambangane’s wife, ‘a man who disfigured a fly with his pinkie finger,” Zakueeua stuttered, his words melting Kambangane’s heart. Afterwards, Kambangane’s  heart skipped after seeing pictures of spotted hyenas swallowing chunks of meat on his wife’s lap. First, he looked at his red shirt and then at the shirt torn into pieces by the greedy hyenas. 

“Where’s the coffin?” he asked a mourner, begging on his knees and asking Kambangane’s ghost to spare him for stealing his black goat. Then Kambangane walked over to another mourner, whose salty tears flowed into her mouth. “Who’s dead?” Kambangane queried, wiping tears from the mourner’s cheeks. 

“Kambaa is gone,” she wailed, but when she looked up, her foggy eyes clashed with Kambangane’s  moon-size eyes. “You’re a ghost,” she cried, and everybody ran in different directions, but Kanairombe ran into his arms. Her death-cheating hubby tore her widowed dress and swore he’ll never die.