Short story by Kondwani Kamiyala First Published in The Weekend Nation on May 19, 2007 This earth is like a giant ant eater. We, petty men, are like ants. One by one, we are swallowed by the earth. It is no matter how we are swallowed by this aardvark: we may be rich or poor, great or not but at some point, an accident may lead us into the gut of the earth, if not, a lengthy ailment. Some are born dead, others go ripe with old age. Yet, we all meet that same unavoidable end—a yawning grave. To some, death comes like some form of healing to long incurable diseases, to others it is God’s most awaited call that beckons us to some higher realms to account for our lives. No matter how imminent death may be, no matter how prepared we may be for it, we all fear and tremble at the thought that some day, we will be gone. To look into the eyes of a dying man, no matter how young they may be, causes cold shivers ran down the spine. Such cogitations come to my mind as I hold Ndaziona, my only sist...