Free Gods and Soldiers by Rob Spillman

hope that he would be able to lie with his wife. He spent most of his time away from the house, either at work during the day or in front of Rex Cinema in the evening, where he played da-me, a complicated version of checkers, with friends until well after midnight. Mr. Rafique’s sorrows grew even worse: Zulai acquired the habit of waiting for his arrival each night so she could pick fights with him—fights in which she did nothing but assail his inability.
    As time went by, Mr. Rafique assumed the un-Islamic and ungodly act of blaming the “old witches” on the street for his problems. He thought of having a talk with his wife, to tell her “face to face” that her aggressive sex manner was the main cause of his inability. But in the end he feared coming across as a wimp with such an open admission of unmanliness. So he remained silent.
    Night after night Mr. Rafique lay awake on his bed, next to his wife, staring into the darkness and contemplating the doom that awaited him the moment Zulaikha opened her mouth to her folks about his inability. He knew that was bound to happen sooner or later, unless a dramatic change occurred, which he couldn’t fathom.
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    After three months of bridal incarceration—the period when young brides were prohibited from leaving the house without an escort, usually a girl or a woman from the man’s family—Zulaikha’s veil-lifting ceremony took place one Thursday morning. It marked the partial lifting of the ban on her movement, as she was limited to visiting her parents, attend naming ceremonies or funerals, and most importantly, walk to the public latrine without her usual escorts of young girls. In another three months, Zulaikha would be permitted to go wherever she wished to go, as she was naturally expected to be carrying Mr. Rafique’s child by then. This custom—traditional rather than religious, which demanded brides to be virgins—enforced a young bride’s loyalty to her husband during the first six months of marriage.
    So far, no one except Mr. Rafique and Zulaikha knew anything about his inability. She considered revealing the secret to someone in her clan, but decided against it, afraid that it might be taken as a ploy for divorce, as used by some women. But Zulai knew she must do something, not only about her husband’s inability but her involuntary celibacy. She began to have fantasies of Muntari, and even thought of seducing him into her bed. The young man obviously didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a marriage scandal; as if he had gotten wind of Zulaikha’s designs, he departed for Agégé, joining the exodus that swept away Ghana’s young men and women to the Nigerian city, in search of a better life. The couple’s problems grew even bigger. They took to quarreling every night, cursing one another in front of everyone in the compound.
    One evening, Mr. Rafique said good-bye to his wife and left the house for the cinema-front, to play da-me with friends. He realized on reaching the game place that he had left behind his pack of cigarettes. He immediately returned home. But when Mr. Rafique arrived Zulaikha was not in the house. Zulai, who had gone to the latrine and didn’t expect her husband back until much later, had stayed talking to friends she had met on her way home. Mr. Rafique picked up the pack, but decided to wait for his wife’s return—he had been suspicious of her comings and goings lately. He paced around the living room, his mind brimming with anger. He glanced at the wall clock at two-minute intervals, growing angrier each time.
    Half an hour passed and Zulaikha had not returned. The longer Mr. Rafique waited, the more distrustful and suspicious he became. He stormed out of the room in a great fury and walked across the courtyard to the compound’s main entrance. He stood there like a sentry, and lighted one cigarette after the other while he cursed the