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Videos of the funeral were sent to him via WhatsApp by an old neighbour By Nhamo Muchagumisa He drank at this tavern on regular occasions. Although he said very little, his absence from the popular waterhole was very noticeable. What was it that had killed his thirst for the wise waters? Could he be ill and recuperating in hospital? There seemed to be nobody to ask as he was friendless, too reserved to earn another human animal's desire for company. Now he was back, and no sad story was sad enough to match his decrepitude. The body under his old, familiar clothes, looked sapless, like a cactus plant from which one had drained all the water. He sat in his usual corner in the tavern, drinking his favourite alcoholic spirit with the gasto of an imbiber with a spare liver to replace the one he was so willingly digesting. There needed to be someone with the audacity to intrude into his silent world. The revellers needed to know what was eating one of their own.