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"My wife always cries after we have s*x, and though I am a strong man who can clear a whole forest with one machete, I do not know how to wipe the salt from her soul."

​The moon was hidden behind thick, black clouds, and the night was very still in our village. Inside our small mud hut, the only light came from a single oil lamp on the floor. The flame danced, making long, scary shadows on the walls. I am Obi, a man with muscles like the Iroko tree and hands that are hard from many years of farming. My greatest pride is my wife, Nneka. Her skin is dark and smooth like the water-stone, and her eyes usually shine like the morning sun.

​Tonight, we lay together on our woven mat. Our love was strong, heavy, and very deep. We moved together with a graphic heat that made the cold night feel like a furnace. It was an intense and raw connection, the kind that makes a man feel he has conquered the world. But as soon as the fire in my body died down, the darkness moved in. Nneka did not smile. She did not rest her head on my chest.

Instead, she turned her back to me and began to shake.

​It was not a small cry. It was a heavy, rhythmic weeping that came from deep inside her heart. Her whole body was slick with sweat, glistening in the dim lamplight as the tears flowed like a river down her face and onto the mat. The salt from her eyes mixed with the sweat on her skin, making her look like a person who had been pulled out of the great ocean.

​"Nneka, my wife, my life," I whispered, reaching out to touch her wet, shaking shoulder. I tried to pull her close, to wrap my strong arms around her and shield her from whatever was hurting her. "Did I do something wrong? Is my strength too much for your body?"

​She turned to look at me, and her face was a picture of pure, graphic terror. "Obi, it is not you," she gasped, her breath coming in short, painful hitches. "But every time we are one, a shadow falls over me. I see a tall woman in a white wrap that is torn and stained with mud. She stands at the edge of the forest with an empty clay bowl. She tells me that I must fill it with my tears to pay for a secret our grandfathers buried in the earth many years ago. She says if I ever stop crying, the ground will open up and swallow every house in Umu-Ogidi."

​I felt a cold fear crawl down my spine. I am a warrior who has killed leopards, but I do not know how to fight a ghost that lives in my wife's eyes. I realized then that Nneka's tears were not just water; they were the "interest" on a debt I did not sign for, and our bed had become a place where the dead came to collect their pay.

MY WIFE ALWAYS CRIES AFTER WE HAVE S*X - CHAPTER 1.

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