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The atmosphere was suddenly dull because something exploded on the sun. After the last big rain-season, the rain did not want to fall again. Botswana was dry and red of the dust. The bush was withered and brown, with no honey in the beehive.  In the cracked earth-crust, there was no sign of a little moisture or green moss. In the village, the children began dying of hunger and thirst.

On the watchtower no guard was at his post. Therefore nobody saw smoke rising from the bush. In a sea of flames, hell burst out like a fury. The fire devours the last bit of precious food. In the subsequent big misery, with a lack of eros, the population growth completely collapses.

The soldiers ask for pay and leave. Yes, for the gathering of families at the graveyard.  But over this the government reacts cold and rude. Times are too bad and there is little left to save Africa out of her misery.  Therefore everyone leaves their position and post. With the army, police and media that begin to desert without further ado. Nobody takes any notice of the rulings of law or court.

With nowhere a piece of edible steak or sausage, Foot-and-mouth disease now becomes the ruling prince. Death spreads its grey blanket across large parts of Africa. And in a sad lamentation, all the inhabitants desperately hit themselves on the chest.