I don’t remember things clearly. I was young. I didn’t know a lot of things that were happening around me then. I saw some of them. I remember some of the events and how they happened but the interpretation I gave to them was different. But as I was growing up, I started asking questions. I started developing an interest in what was happening around me. That was when the story unfolding around me got told in its proper context.

I didn’t have a father. According to my mother, the man who got her pregnant didn’t accept responsibility. They were hiding and making love because they were scared their families wouldn’t accept them for tribal reasons. They dated for two years in secrecy and I came along. I was the one who pushed their love affair from the dark to the light. According to my mom, my father accepted responsibility at first but told her not to tell anyone about it. She also accepted not to tell anyone but when the pressure from her parents started breaking her neck, she confessed to her father, “It’s David. David is the one who got me pregnant.”


Her father was very disappointed. He said, “Of all the proper men in this world, you didn’t get anyone to get you pregnant but this man from that silly tribe?” Her mom also felt the same way about her but they had to meet my father’s family and discuss the issue of the pregnancy with them and see the way forward. According to my mother, the day they went to my father’s house and his parents called upon him, he denied ever knowing my mother. They were both young and living with their parents. My mom was hurt but she was holding on to the hope that one day my dad would come and claim me.

She saw my father around. When I was one year old she told my father about it and he said, “I don’t know you or your daughter. I’m not the father. Look for the one responsible and stop worrying me.” When I started school, my mother went to him again; “Your daughter is starting school. Please help. At least you can pay fees and I would take care of the rest.” My dad was very angry. He screamed at her, “If you don’t stop coming around with your bastard, I swear I will do something you’ll never like the next time you come around here.” On my sixth birthday, my mother went to him again, asking him to at least look at me and see the resemblance. The man looked at me and said, “She resembles all the twenty-something men you slept with before you gave birth to her.”

My mom got angry. She cursed him and cursed the day she met him. She cursed the bed they both slept on and cursed the sperm that fertilized her eggs to make me. She said, “If it was possible to take anything away from my daughter, I will take the part of you that contributed to making her. You shame the gods that gave you your manhood. A man who runs away from what he himself has created doesn’t deserve his manhood. You’re a shame to your ancestors and an embarrassment to those who gave you a name.”

After that fight, my mother didn’t go to look for him again. Instead, she fell in love with a truck driver who came around often to buy from her. According to my mom, his job didn’t excite her but the fact that he loved to play with me anytime he came around made her fall in love with him. He drove a big truck that loaded cocoa beans and other things from villages to the port. Sometimes he’ll travel and won’t come back for weeks but when there was nothing to carry to the port and he had to stay home, he’ll spend all the time with my mother, playing with me and bringing me candies and chocolate he specifically bought for me on his way. They dated for a few months and got married. Click to continue reading
https://uwagood.com/2022/07/16/i-never-knew-my-dad-was-not-my-father-what-a-big-tragedy/

Chill, everything has a reason so you need to also put yourself inside his shoe's and know the cause

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