Short Story – Stop littering

“Don’t swallow me,” said Zakueeua, mocking Kambangane, who was yawning on a tented chair. Zakueeua squatted on a termite-nibbled log and sharpened a knife, all the while twitching his nose at the smell of sliced onions.

Thereafter, Zakueeua hid some crushed chillies under his tongue, as he salivated over the chunks of meat, which were served in large bowls. The two glued their eyes to the three-legged pot while cracking belly-turning jokes, such as riding on a rabbit’s back with a saddle. First, Zakueeua cleared yellow mucus from his throat and pointed a stick at the wind-blown papers hitchhiking on thorny branches.

“The thorns had pierced plastics into flowers,” said Kambangane, pressing his eyes at the blue birds beautifying their nests with plastic bags.