Read Online Gods and Soldiers by Rob Spillman - Free Book Online Page A

handsome man: not too tall and not too short either, and definitely without a pot belly, which she abhorred.
    Not long after Zulai mentioned Mr. Rafique to her family, rumor reached their ears that he was a drunkard. The family didn’t worry too much about the rumor, hoping that, “even if it were true, he will change his ways once he is married and saddled with the responsibility of looking after a family of his own,” as Baba Mina said.
    At the time of the wedding, Zulaikha was nineteen, three years older than the age at which most girls were married. She was only two years shy of finishing middle school, and some among Baba Mina’s clan pleaded that he allow her to finish, but the father said to them, “Of what use would schooling be to a woman? She is going to end up in the kitchen, after all!” With those words, the father sealed off the mouths of those who pleaded with him. Customary rituals were hastily carried out after that, paving the way for the marriage ceremony, which turned out to be one of the grandest functions the city of Kumasi had ever seen. Not that anyone expected less from the bride’s wealthy father.
    The marriage was on shaky ground from the very beginning. Certain things Zulaikha had not given any thought to before suddenly developed into uncomfortable situations that were rife with the potential of creating serious problems for the marriage. The first involved having to live in the same compound as Muntari, the young man who had deflowered her. Although Muntari’s room was located outside the main compound, he went inside at least twice each day to fetch hot bath-water in the mornings and to pick up his supper in the evenings. And as much as Zulai attempted to ignore Muntari’s presence in the compound, the two still ran into each other. Now a married woman, Zulai was quite embarrassed about this situation and lived with the constant fear of her pre-marital affair with Muntari being leaked out to her husband.
    Zulai’s other problem concerned something quite different. Like most buildings on Zongo Street, their house did not have a toilet, which meant that she had to be escorted for about three hundred meters to the public latrine. For Zulaikha, who grew up using a glass toilet in the privacy of her parents’ house, to empty one’s bowels in the presence of five strangers, all squatting in a row, was not only barbaric and shameful, but depressing. She took care of that problem partly by going to the latrine only at night when the latrine was often empty. She stuck to that schedule, no matter how desperate she was with the need to relieve herself during the day.
    However, Zulai’s third and last problem was more serious, one that made the first two seem trivial. And here is what created it:
    Though Mr. Rafique’s womanizing lifestyle prior to his marriage had reached legendary status on Zongo Street, he had somehow failed to keep his erection on the couple’s first night together. What occurred was peculiar and shocking to both husband and wife, who had expected nothing short of fireworks on their maiden encounter.
    What exactly went wrong that night Mr. Rafique could not understand. When his penis became limp in the middle of intercourse, his first thought was to get up and send a child for a cup of strong coffee from Mallam Sile’s tea shop, hoping the hot beverage would re-charge his battery. But Zulaikha, who had heard so much about Mr. Rafique’s many affairs with women, was set upon giving him a splendid first night. As he lay pondering she crawled all over him, caressing and kissing his chest and ribs. She grabbed and rubbed Mr. Rafique’s penis with her fingers, something he detested when his penis was not erect. He made some gestures to thwart her moves, all the time thinking of the right moment to get up and send for that revivifying cup of coffee. But Zulaikha, who was as aroused as someone on a Malian aphrodisiac,