I grew up with a mother who was angry at me most of the time. I know that children can be infuriating but my mother’s anger was always extreme. It was as if she was channeling all her anger at the world at me. I even used to question if she was my biological mum. Oh, I am not saying she was a bad mother, far from that. She ensured that I never lacked anything. I went to a good school, wore nice clothes, and always had a full stomach. I love her, and she also loves me in her own way. I just wished she wasn’t so angry all time the with me.

One day I casually asked her, “Tell me about your childhood.” As soon as I said that, a dark cloud settled on her face. For a minute I thought she was going to shout at me, but she didn’t. Unlike me, her childhood was difficult. Her mother was not in the picture. Her father raised her as a single dad until he got married. She thought she was finally going to get a mum, but she ended up with a stepmother who could not stand her. She endured whatever cruelty her stepmother dealt her with until she turned eighteen.

At eighteen, she left her father’s house in search of her mother. Her search led her to Accra. She met her mother living a luxurious life with her wealthy husband and their three children. “I expected my mother to embrace me and kiss away all my pain, but I ended up disappointed. My own mother looked at me as though I was a speck of dirt that would dirty her clean and happy life,” my mother told me. She said my grandmother’s husband loved her, but my grandmother made her miserable. She withheld every good thing from her and found creative ways to maltreat her.

It is one thing to be hated by your stepmother, but to be despised by your own mother is something else. I felt bad that my mum had to endure suffering at her mother’s hands. I understood her better after she shared her story with me. I empathized with her anger. I prayed for her that she would find some peace and eventually happiness. Lord knows she deserves to be happy after everything she has been through.

While on the topic of happiness I asked her about my dad. I wanted to understand why their marriage was cold and bitter. That one too has a long story, but I will do my best to shorten it. My mother told me, “My mother used to send me to school on empty stomach so I got tired and quit. I tried to learn a trade but that one too, my mum wouldn’t let me do it in peace. She inflicted misery on me until I got tired and quit. So I had no prospects for a career. My only hope at that time was to marry someone who could take care of me. You would think my mother would at least let me have that. Well, she didn’t. She drove away every man who came my way until I was utterly alone.”

According to my mum, she met someone when she least expected it. He was a handsome young man who was in the university. He loved my mum, and she also fell in love with him. While he was in the picture, another man also came into the picture. He was physically unappealing and she did not feel an iota of affection for him. So she always drove him away. However, this man was relentless. He lurked in the shadows waiting patiently for my mother to change her mind and give him a chance. While he waited, my mother was getting to know and enjoy the company of her handsome young man.

When her siblings found out about her relationship they discouraged her. They told her, “This guy you are following will leave you when he meets an educated woman. Leave him and go for the other man you rejected. He has what it takes to provide for you.” She didn’t want to listen at first but they kept talking about it until she became convinced. Besides, her young man was living with an aunt. He could barely fend for himself let alone, her. My mum did menial jobs but my grandma always took her wages from her. She said it was payment for her accommodation and utility bills. So my mum had nothing. That’s why she needed a man who would give her a little help.

Due to her situation, she gave the other man a chance. When her handsome boyfriend found out he had competition he fought hard to win my mum. My poor mother who was torn between both men ended up sleeping with them in the same month. That is how I was conceived. When she found out she was pregnant she gave the pregnancy to the other man, the one she didn’t like. His name is Ansah. However, when I was born I looked like the handsome man she loved, Duah. Everyone who saw me commented, “This baby looks like Duah. Are you sure he is not the father?” Through idle gossip, Duah heard about his resemblance to me and came to visit.

The moment he saw me he said I was his, but my mum said I wasn’t. He could tell I look like him so he wasn’t deterred. He tried to convince my mum to choose him so we could be a family but she refused. She was scared. She felt she was not good enough for him. And she also insisted I was Ansah’s child, no matter what everyone saw and said. Duah stuck around until he got the opportunity to travel outside the country. He lost touch with my mum after that. So she stayed with Ansah. They say love grows sometimes but my mother never grew to love the man she chose. I could tell from the way she lit up when she spoke about Duah that she still loves him.

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She asked me, “What will you do if I tell you Duah is your father?” I frowned, “What?” She then laughed and said it was a joke. I didn’t find it funny but this is a can of worms I don’t want to open so I left it alone. Just the other day I was there when she asked me to look for Duah and talk to him. “Why should I talk to him?” I asked her. She shrugged, “He is a good man so I want you to know him.” It was very clear in her speech that she loves him and probably wants to talk to him again.

I wanted her to be happy so I looked for the man on Facebook. When I found someone I believed could be him, I showed his photo to my mum. This woman almost jumped with excitement like a lovestruck teenage girl, “Yes, that’s him.” It was the first time I ever saw my mother express joy. Now she is asking me to talk to him. “Ask him what he will do if he finds out that you are his daughter,” she said. Again, I frowned at her, “What?” This time too she laughed and said it was a joke.

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Her behavior is making me feel someway about this whole thing. It didn’t help matters when my aunt saw me recently and said, “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Duah? He is your mother’s ex-lover.” Now I am concerned. I was so sure that Ansah is my father but there’s a little voice in my head saying I could be wrong. I am sure that if I go digging for the truth and I find out that Duah is my biological father, I will be angry. I will hate my mother for purposely giving me the wrong father. While I feel bad for everything she has been through in life, this is not something I can easily sweep under the carpet.

I am almost thirty, and the man I know as my father is called Ansah. What good will come out of knowing that I have been lied to my entire life? This is my dilemma. Is it necessary to try and find out the truth? Because if it turns out she lied I won’t talk to her again. So why ruin everyone’s life for this information in the first place? This is why I haven’t bothered to contact the man. I don’t want to stir up any drama. What do you guys think? What will you do if you were in my shoes?

– Ansah’s Daughter 

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