One hundred and fifty years ago Jackal lived at 328 Limpopo -- that's three hundred and twenty eight miles upstream of the Mozambique port town of Xai-xai on the mighty Limpopo River. He was a virtual outcast in his community because of the belief he was unable to raise an erection, which made him impotent as a spear-thrower. He was supposedly shunned by the woman folk as a result of that belief, emphasis being on 'supposedly'.
The reality was Jackal had it made which is why this story is being retold to ensure it survives. His small tribe of eighty-eight souls comprised the survivors of a much larger tribe that fled from their homeland hundreds of miles away and were pursued by the bloodthirsty invaders.
Only that small number made it to settle on the banks of the river marked on at least one map as Loiter. The tribe survived by stealing off other tribes when they were in stupor after raiding, pillaging, and doing ungentlemanly things to the women with the captured men tied up and made to watch.
It was uncouth sport really but the missionaries had never had influence on Jackal's tribe so the men were able to enjoy themselves without being made to feel guilty.
Jackal who was just nineteen was considered a moron by the men but was useful because his job was to empty the night pots next day and renew the rolls of toilet paper purchased from the trading post. For performing that duty he was fed and allowed freedom of the village, even when the men were away, because what mischief could a young guy do who was unable to carry an erection?