First things first, I am not a saint even if I promised my wife when we married over 19 years ago that if I ever caught her pants down with another man, I would not walk away from the marriage. And, yes, I have told myself countless times that such a promise is a dumb one. But can one help being totally in love? I meant those words when I stated them those many years ago as I mean them now. I love my wife more than anything in the world. I also love all my three children even the first, the one I have come to discover is not mine. But that is only biologically, in all other respects, the child is mine.
I am telling my story in the light of the recent development where a man is said to have sued his wife upon discovering that the child he has called his all along was fathered by someone else. The man is said to be particularly irked by the fact that he has spent a fortune bringing up the person only to discover the sad reality. But like someone I grew up with would ask, to what percentage would his new stance benefit the parties involved in the matter. Can they indeed turn back the hands of time to a place that will favour the wife, husband and child? This is one reason I am willing to let sleeping dogs lie in my own case. I know that our society has developed a notch higher than it was a few years back what with people trouping out to protest molestation which used to be taboo with people willing to go to all lengths just to keep it quiet. However, if I were to out my wife now, how would that help any of us involved?
But it has been a very painful five years, which is how long I have known that our first child is not mine. I don’t want to bore you with the details but you don’t have to be a father to know the pain that such a discovery could entail. But upon reflecting on all the positives in our union, I came to the conclusion that there is no point to rock the boat. I will not be that man who will call out my wife to the detriment of our happiness even if there are those who would argue that the said happiness is built on a lie. The one my wife has told over the years without uttering a word. Some will even say that such a lie is the most painful. But what if she does not know for a fact that this is what is happening? I am also willing to play the devil’s advocate in this matter because I have come to know her intimately over the last 20 years and suspect strongly that if she knew for a fact that I am not the father of our only daughter, she would have damned the consequences and come clean.
When I met Princess, which is my wife’s name 20 years ago, she had been in a relationship that was not going anywhere. She was dating this dude called Magnus and had actually moved in with him. Not only was he abusive, he also didn’t see anything wrong with how they were carrying on as if there was no future to plan for and didn’t care. Princess had come from a traditional family where the women were supposed to know their place and let the men take control. No one told her she could be anything she wanted to be even if she didn’t have a man in her life. In fact, the contrary was the case and any man, even the misfit that was Magnus was drummed into her head in the same way that the society forces girls to believe from a tender age that they are nothing without a man to marry them. It was my duty to change all that. I rescued her from a marriage that would have enslaved her and made her miserable for the rest of her life. Yeah, I know that sounds just the same as the society I was castigating but this was a different kind of rescue which she could have carried out herself were she equipped to do so. I am not implying that she was all dumb and waiting for me to enlighten and educate her. Princess just didn’t have all the information she needed to succeed as a grown woman. The little she knew in that department she had to either garner from experience or from the books she loved to read. Books were what brought us together by the way. I joined a book club four or so years after I came to Lagos in search of a job upon completing my university education at the University of Ilorin. I eventually took up a position in a corporate organisation based on Lagos Island. My life then revolved round work, church and home. I did a lot of reading but had no social life except the mingling I did with tech types at work. To correct that, I joined a book club. One rainy Saturday afternoon while five members of the book club were discussing Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus at Bogobiri in Ikoyi, someone ran into the space apparently seeking shelter from the pelting rain and our discussion was halted. I don’t know what was going through the minds of the others, that is, the two guys and two girls that together made up the book club. What I can tell you clearly as if it just happened are the lewd thoughts that were going through my head. Princess was the kind of woman you wanted to bed and drenched the way she was, had the power to accentuate your sexual senses. I wanted her and it became my life’s work to get her and nothing, not even Magnus or Princess’ mum, who was to become a major stumbling block to our union could stop me. I literarily moved mountains to be with Princess.
“Hello Princess, welcome to the party,” I recall saying then to break the silence that had taken over after she made her entrance. And she looked at me as if I had uttered the f-word in church.
“How did you know my name? Have we met before?” she queried.
“Your name is Princess? What a perfect name for a true princess. Mine is Jude. This is Tega, Braide, Iquo and Anne; we are members of Muse Book Club and are happy to have you,” I said, realising that I had hit the jackpot and staking my claim.
What was to follow was not as easy a taking a walk in falling rain for I had to contend with a long raging storm to get this Princess to my side and now you want me to walk away because our first child is not mine?
Continues next week.
