Entry 14
ABBY:
Uncle looked menacing as he asked me to come and stand next to him. No one knew what he was about to say. Then he looked at both sets of parents and said:
“Mamas and Papas, I have held my peace and waited for this day to come. But before I say what I want to say, I will ask my wife a question. My wife, is there anything you want to tell me?”
Aunty looked around and replied,
“Yes, my husband. You have neglected your duties as a father just because you said you didn’t want another child. You haven’t carried your child or rejoiced at his birth. I’m glad our parents are here and can get involved.”
Both sets of parents looked shocked.
Then Uncle replied sarcastically,
“Is that all? Well, today we speak the truth. Abby, I want you to answer me truthfully. I know you won’t lie to me—remember, I brought you back from the village, I pay for the new school you’re in, and I buy you what you want. You’re a good girl. But now I will tell you why I brought you back and why your aunty sent you away. So answer.”
“I had my suspicions that your aunty was up to something—and you know what it is. I asked her why she sent you back and she said you were wayward, that she didn’t want you putting her in trouble. But I didn’t believe her. I suspect it has something to do with why she’s been coming home late from her shop most weekends.
So, Abby, tell me the truth and shame the devil. I can read you, and I know you won’t lie to me. Your parents are here and they know when you’re lying.
So everyone’s eyes are on you…
Has your aunty been having something with another man in her shop?”
Ahhh! All the parents shouted at once.
My aunty froze. Uncle looked towards me. Everyone was waiting for me to say something.
Let’s pause here for a moment.
Two things were wrong.
One, my parents knew me—as in, past tense. I was no longer the ten-year-old naïve girl who left the village.
And two, Aunty knew I was a liar. That might explain the calm look on her face as she smiled, nodded, and winked at me.
My dad also looked fidgety—I’m sure he was thinking, Abby’s not that innocent.
Anyway, considering all this—and the fact that lies and blackmail had already gotten me this far—I cleared my throat, looked Uncle in the eye, and replied:
“Uncle, thank you for trusting me. I haven’t seen Aunty with any man. The only person who comes to delay her at the shop is one aunty like this, who’s always reporting her husband to Aunty. They spend a lot of time talking about it until it’s really late. That’s all I know, Uncle.”
And I watched Uncle’s head slump.
Aunty’s teeth came out.
My father shook his head.
My mum smiled.
Each reaction meant different things: disappointment, elation, sadness, and joy.
Now all I could think of was—what do I want Aunty to do for me next?
But 11 years later, when the truth came out, I was no longer that naïve girl everyone believed I was. That’s when I remembered the question aunty asked me a week after that incident with the parents, “ Abby what kind of woman do you want to be?”
Hmmm…
CHRIS:
I froze, listening as Bisi cried and said:
“Mum, Dad—okay, okay! I’ll tell the truth. Chris is not the father. In fact, I’m not even pregnant! I just lied so that you would give me my inheritance. I need more money than you give me!”
Oh my Lord.
Bisi lied and put me through all that just because she wanted money?
Unbelievable.
That’s when her parents replied,
“Ahh, I’m glad you came to your senses.”
Her mother continued,
“I knew you wouldn’t bring a boy like Chris to us saying he’s the father of your child. You’re too selfish to get with a poor boy. We knew he was just a pawn in your next scheme.”
Then her father looked at me and said,
“Young man, we apologise for our daughter. You’re not the first boy she’s brought home with a cockamamie story—but you are the first poor boy. So, to compensate you, here is some money, We apologise on her behalf.”
I froze—confused and couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I don’t know who was the better actor—her parents or Bisi.
So they knew she was lying and played along?
I could’ve sworn they were serious.
Anyway, I sat there with the brown envelope, still thinking, until Bisi yelled at me:
“Chris, get your dirty arse off our couch. You’re done. Please leave. You’re of no use to me now.”
I stood up, feeling so ashamed that I had allowed myself to be used and paid off like the poor boy I was.
I said thank you to her parents and even apologised to Bisi—as she yelled and waved me out.
That day, as I walked to the main road to get a bus back to the university, I vowed to become very wealthy, no matter what it took.
Two years later, after graduating with a first-class degree in Economics, when Edward suggested we go see a prophet to tell us our destiny—
I jumped at it.
Hmmm…
