African Adhesive part 2......

Where i am from, the sun shines brightly. And sometimes a little too brightly for me. I feel the scorch almost pierce my soul and from the sun, i can hide nothing. Only ofcourse at night when i creep out of my hut to visit Adansi, but even then i swear the moons tells of my infidelity to the sun, because come morning it is back with a vengance, and unlike my wife not as forgiving.
The water in the town well has dried up and it is the women, proud bearers of our seeds who have gone in search of the creator's natural drink. In the meantime the men will go out and hunt. But i lie, for the men are all gathered under a big dree drinking palm wine. We will sit there, talk, fight, make merry and get drunk. That is until our wives return and scold us for not venturing into the woods. We will slap their bottoms and drag them into our huts in attempts to stifle the tirades which will inevitably ensue. The women like to think they are the adhesive that hold us together, but we know it is us, the proud warriors that feed, clothe and protect our world.....without us they are nothing.
I break away in attempts to clear my air and indeed hear myself think for it is impossible when draga begins to tell tales about his wife's many talents. Everyone laughs not because they think it isnt so, but because they know it isnt so. At present, my dilemma threatens to consume me and i am exhausted simply thinking about it. Adansi's words keep ringing in my ear and i am still in shock that she carries my seed. I should be happy that my family is expanding and that i will hopefully finally have a son who can work on my farm. But Adansi does not belong to me and i have no licence to marry her. However, as quickly as the thought of my trouble enters my head it is gone and replaced by the image of her beautiful face. I erase the smile budding at the tips of my lips and replace it with my warrior's scowl. I sigh, tomorow will take care of itself, a warrior can never worry.
And with resolve to tend to the matter later, i re join my pack. The smell of manliness has never been as apparent as it is to me now, surrounded by my tribesmen. The treadmills of the ground have turned our thighs into tree trunks and our arms into merely connecting bulges of strength. We are men, pure and simple. But even as we sit together, we are unaware that a storm is brewing, one which we can neither out run nor pierce with our swords. For me, my storm is imminent and where I am from the sun shines brightly and although it the life that makes our plants grow and makes our children smile, it is a constant reminder that we cannot hide, we are always being watched.