I feel misunderstood but I don’t blame anyone for misunderstanding me. I had every right to tell a full story but I chose to tell a half story. No one can understand a full story from a half story so I take the blame. Those who insulted me, those who called me names and those who thought I was out of my mind, I’m not any of the things you said about me. Yes, I read all the comments. Some people even used me as a reason to fear women. I forgive you.

His name is Kalou. We broke up before I got to know I was pregnant. He was my boyfriend. He said he loved me and I believed him. I loved him too. He wasn’t working. He was the kind of guy who would disappear for a week and come back later to tell you he had a job in the hinterland so he went to do it.

When he reappears, he will take care of everything. He would give me money for my hair, money for food and even pay back the loan he took from me. He would be hanging out with friends, drinking and playing games until the money would finish and then he would disappear again.

The first person who warmed me about our relationship was my mother. She told me we didn’t have a future. She looked into my eyes and compared me to my junior sister who had a boyfriend who worked in the government sector. She said, “Look at your sister and the man she brought home. When you compare him to what you have, don’t you feel ashamed?”

I didn’t listen to her because I was suffering from love and its blindness.  One day he disappeared for almost a month without telling me anything. When he came back, I was so angry I decided to call the relationship quit. He told me, “It looks like your soul doesn’t like good things. You’re leaving me just when I’ve made it? I have a job now. You should be happy.”

I believed him so I changed my mind. I went back to him and pretended everything was ok. Later when I asked about the job he had, he told me he had been laid off. “They’ve laid you off? For what? You haven’t been on this job for a month so what happened?” He told me they gave him enough money as compensation so he would start something with the money.

He didn’t start anything until the money was wasted. He came for a loan and later came back for another loan. I asked what he did with the first one. That evening, Kalou nearly beat me. “Stop asking silly questions and give me the money. When I get money, who do I spend it on?”

My mother’s voice kept playing in my head until I decided enough was enough. I broke up with him even when he said he hadn’t broken up with me. I stopped seeing him. If I knew he would be at the west, I would pass the east side even if it’s a long route.

A couple of weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. My mom looked at my face and said, “You disappoint me. I placed all my hopes in you because you are the first child but look at your life. You allowed that guy to get you pregnant? You’re a shame.”

I met Kalou one evening and told him about the pregnancy. He jumped up and shouted for joy. He said, “Something will always bring you back to me. You can’t leave.” I responded, “I came to inform you I was pregnant for you. I didn’t say I was coming back.”

That very night, he chose a name for our unborn child; “A girl would be called Matilda. A boy would be Martin. Those are the names.”

So my son is called Martin. When I gave birth, I thought fatherhood would change him but it didn’t. He kept disappearing and reappearing and each time when he came back, he brought beautiful stories of work and happiness where he went.

He would buy things for his son and leave me out of it. He won’t give me physical cash because he felt I would benefit from it. He told me, “Until you change your mind and take me back, you won’t touch a pesewa of my money.” I responded, “A pesewa of your money is what I don’t need. It will finish but I would be here.”

One day he disappeared and didn’t come back again until the news reached us that he had been arrested among armed robbers. When his parents were going to see him, I went with them. I left my son with my mom and went to see the face of Kalou. He couldn’t look at my face once. He was talking to his parents and crying; “I’m not one of them. I was just in the vicinity when they came for the operation. I swear I’m not one of them.”

“Kalou, I’m not the judge. I pray they see the truth in what you’re saying and set you free,” his mother said. All I did was look him in the face and see if he would look back at me. He didn’t look at me once until when we were leaving he said, “Gladys, I hope you believe me?” I didn’t turn back. I didn’t want him to see my tears. I kept going until we were out of the place. His dad said, “That explains his disappearing act. Who goes out for a week and comes back with plenty of money to spread around?”

Weeks later, he was sentenced. I couldn’t go to the court that day. My heart was too weak to witness the occasion. When he was sentenced, I went there with our son once. Again, he didn’t look at us. It was his mom who took our child to him and asked him to look at a beautiful boy he had as a son.

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We didn’t visit again. A year after his arrest, I travelled out of town with my son for greener pastures. I found a new job so I left home. When I left home, I met the man who later became my husband. I told him everything about my life and how my son came to be. He said, “It’s alright. That’s in the past. We can build something new together.”

We both knew one day Kalou would come out of the prison and might want to meet his son. It was the reason we made my son aware that my husband wasn’t his father. We have three kids of our own. A boy and two girls. It’s a beautiful family we have here and I will do everything to protect them from harm and from everything that would break their spirit.

My son knows his father has travelled so when the call came and I got to know it was Kalou, I told him, “I’ve heard you’re out but from what I’ve heard about you, you’re not in a good state. Relax. Put your life together and I will bring him to meet you.”

He shouted on the phone, “What do you mean I should put my life together? Who said my life has fallen apart? Bring him to me. I’m ready to be a father.”

He didn’t have a job but was ready to be a father. How was he going to provide? All the years he was in prison, his family didn’t call once to ask about the child and how he was doing. I did everything on my own until my husband came along to support me. I was glad when Kalou called to look for us. I was happy but my son’s emotional and mental health is very important to me. He has a father figure in the house. He knows how a father should look like and how a father should behave.

So one day, I hold his hands and tell him, “I’m taking you to your father,” only for him to meet a man whose life is in shambles or who has nothing that looks like the father figure he grew up with. How do you think he’s going to take it? How do you think he would appear before his siblings? His siblings have model of a man as a father but he has a man that looks nothing like a father. That is why I didn’t agree to meet him in that state.

I love my son too much to expose him to what is not ideal so I told Kalou to freshen up, get something doing and put his life together. I didn’t say he should be rich or own a piece of the sun before I bring the boy. He should look like a portrait of a father. That was all.

But he went around threatening everyone, including me and my family. He told my parents if they didn’t produce me in one week, they would see the fire he brought from the prison. When he spoke to my best friend he said, “I know you know where they are. Talk before you experience the terror in me.”

So out of frustration, I thought of doing everything to cut him off until he put his life together. I was wrong about the adoption part. I said it out of frustration. I was looking for a solution with a hammer so everything appeared like a nail. My husband wouldn’t even agree. If he wanted to, he would have put his name on him long ago but he didn’t.

So those insulting me and calling me heartless, I have a heart and that heart beats for the welfare of my kids. Martin is still a young man. What he sees now can make him or break his spirit or even make him develop an inferiority complex. I don’t know a lot but I’m a woman who learns so I know the nuances of raising a child, especially a boy like mine.

Out of the abundance of insults and name-calling, a lot of good pieces of advice also came out. Silent Beads sent me a contact of a woman from Child Care who asked me to reach out to her and I did. She listened to my story and told me I had nothing to fear. She’s helping me and I appreciate it a lot. Come what may, I will get to the bottom of this. Kalou will agree to look like a model father before he sees Martin. Martin will go home proud and in high spirits because he met a man he could respect as a father. Kalou will win and my son will also win.

I Didn’t Tell Anybody Because I Enjoyed It

We can’t win with sentiments; that he has been in prison and has suffered so he has to be allowed to see his son blah-blah. If nothing at all, Kalou was once my choice. He wasn’t the perfect choice but I want Martin to hang onto a slight thread of hope that his mother made not too wrong a choice in the man she chose as his father. Is that a crime?

—Gladys    

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