The Room of Four: Masculinity, Silence, and the Digital Ghost
In the quiet of a Zimbabwean night, a bedroom can become the most crowded place on earth. It’s not just you and your spouse; it’s the expectations of your ancestors, the mocking echoes of social media, and the betrayal of your own body. The Room of Four By Lawson Chiwara The paraffin lamp flickered, throwing long shadows against the cracked plaster walls of the bedroom. Outside, the Zimbabwean night was alive; crickets sang their endless, rhythmic chorus, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked at nothing. Inside, the air was still and heavy. Pauro Saungweme lay stiffly on his side of the bed, the mosquito net hanging limp above them like a quiet witness. He adored his wife—more than words could hold. Tonight, with the children gone to their grandparents in Gutu, was meant to be theirs. He had told himself all day, a mantra of masculine intent: “Pauro, tonight you give her everything. The house is ours.” But when her hand reached for him under the faded floral blan...
