These exorbitant funeral rites have also brought pressure on the families of the bereaved to break the bank to cater for the mourners.
It is customary to rush back to the home of the deceased for a plate of food, preferably with a colour-film menu of assorted vegetables and meat. Anything less will be frowned upon.
In fact, if word got out that there was no beast slaughtered at your funeral, the number of mourners would dip exponentially.
I have discovered that the only winners at a black funeral are the family dogs, which will be spoiled for choice for leftovers, and the slay queens who will likely score with a big spender to cater for their weekend entertainment.
After they've gorged themselves on the food, the mourners will make a bee-line to the liquor store to host their 'after tears'.
Although Johnny Clegg had imbibed and internalised Zulu culture, his final journey was freed of the excesses of bankrupting township culture. The only people I know who bury their dead within 24 hours are the Muslims.
With my black people, it can take anything from a week to two weeks while we wait for the arrival of a broke uncle whose whereabouts have defied even Khumbulekhaya.
We may have been battling to put food on the table, but will pull out all the stops to feed the multitudes when we have a funeral.
Perhaps the time has come to re-look the societal pressures of hosting expensive burials. If a decorated French knight like Clegg can get away with it, Vusi should not break the bank to impress fake mourners with expensive booze and dessert at such a solemn occasion.
Brown bread peanut butter sandwiches should do just fine.