The boys refused to ride donkeys after Kambangane bragged about racing them on a rabbit’s back. Afterwards, the ageless chief scolded his laughable tales when a toddler choked, while Kambangane tickled him about skinning a python. 

Apparently, the Joker scooped chicken eggs from the snake’s belly. Now the sun dipped behind the mountains, while the pigeons cooed. A crowd of hunters squatted on their heels around the blue and yellow flickering fires. 

They were roasting sweetcorn and boiling the peacocks’ drumsticks in three-legged pots. Above them, a bedsheet of shiny stars witnessed this blissful night. Suddenly, between the flickering stars, Kambangane spotted a blinking star. He pointed his walking stick at the twinkling star, and cleared his throat from yellow slimy mucus. 

This time, he didn’t want to look stupid, so he zipped his mouth. The men were moving their jaws on brick-size drumsticks and thighs. Then he saw that the blue star was hanging lower than the other stars. His heart pounded, and his hand became soaked with sweat. Then he tossed a juicy drumstick towards the mongrels that were wagging their tails. “The star is falling,” he yelled. 

Immediately, after hearing his voice,  the children ran into the huts, and the women were frightened to look at the bright blue star. Kambangane shuffled his feet towards the chief and tipped him about the falling star. 

The popped-eyed chief spotted the blue star about a drop on the teeth-gnashing mountains. The grey-haired chief called the muscular men and the yapping dogs to hunt down the demonic star. The men took their lethal weapons: hockey-like sticks or bows and arrows. 

“I anoint Kambangane as my successor,” vowed the ballooned-eyed chief, cursing the other men for not spotting the danger. 

By now, everyone had taken a spot behind the rocks, with their arrows pointed skyward. Strange enough, the star whizzed and landed on a flat area. The dogs tucked their tails as the blue light dimmed. Afterwards, Kambangane pelleted swearwords at the muted dogs. It was a dark star, and no longer twinkling. As the sun peeked behind the mountains, it revealed a flying car. 

Mop-haired men carrying steel walking sticks jumped out of the winged car, and fearless Kambangane walked up to them. “Is this a star?” he questioned. The visitors shook their heads left to right. “Where’re you from?” he quizzed. “From the sky,” said the pink-haired visitor, pointing at the feathery clouds.