I Exchanged The Lives of My Parents For a Second-Hand Car

My father went to bed one evening and never woke up. There was no warning. He had eaten supper, watched the news, and spoken to my mother before going to sleep. The next morning, my mother found him cold by her side. She called his name, touched his shoulder, and realised something was terribly wrong. She shook him several times. My dad didn’t open his eyes.

I was in Côte d’Ivoire working when she called me. I am the eldest of four children, so whenever anything happened at home, my name was the first one my mother mentioned. But that morning, she could hardly speak. She kept repeating, “Your dad wouldn’t wake up.”

My work arrangements didn’t allow me to leave the job site immediately. I got home after two weeks. By then, my mother looked smaller, as if the death of my dad had taken half of her being away.

READ ALSO: I Thought I Was Punishing My Wife. I Was Punishing Myself

I carried most of the funeral expenses. My three younger siblings were not in a position to contribute much, and I didn’t hold it against them. I borrowed some money, used my savings, and paid what needed paying. We buried our father, and I returned to Côte d’Ivoire carrying the guilt of not being there when my mother needed me most.

For months, she called at odd hours. She said the silence in her room frightened her.

As the first anniversary of my dad’s death approached, I visited my mom to hear her plans. That very day, we talked like lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. I travelled back home, slept so late, and woke up to see eight missed calls on my phone from my younger sister. When I called back, she was crying.

“Ato, we didn’t hear good news this morning. Mom didn’t wake up.”

She, too, had gone to bed healthy and bubbly and failed to wake the following morning. I kept asking myself whether we’d missed signs of illness. I didn’t have an answer, but my siblings found an answer of their own.

They believed something spiritual had entered our family and was taking our parents. They told me we should seek spiritual interpretation of what was happening. My sister mentioned a shrine, and my two other siblings agreed they would go there and ask what was going on. I didn’t go with them.

When they returned from the shrine, they were unusually quiet. Nobody told me what they’d heard. I didn’t ask. We had a mother to bury, and I wanted us to do that together.

Again, I paid most of the funeral costs. I was doing what the eldest child often does when everyone looks in his direction and waits for a decision.

After the funeral, when I called any of my siblings, they gave me attitude. They either didn’t pick up my calls or would pick up, say just two words, and hang up. Slowly, we stopped speaking as often.

The following year, I bought a car. It was a home-used 2015 Honda Civic. I wasn’t rich. I had no house, no land in a prime area, and no wife. I had a job, bills, and a small business that required me to move around frequently. I needed that car to help with my work.

During the festival in our hometown, I went with my new car. My aunts and uncles were happy to see it. My siblings saw me and moved back. They wouldn’t even shake my hand.

I asked my sister, “What’s the matter with you people? Since Mom died, you people have been acting strange. You meet without me, you talk behind my back. Today I’m here. Tell me what the matter is.”

My younger brother said, “You think we don’t know? This car is all we needed as proof of your devilish moves. We know you sacrificed our parents to get rich.”

Just before I had time to process what my younger brother had said, my sister asked why I’d suddenly found money for a car after our parents died. The other sibling joined in.

Their evidence was that I hadn’t returned immediately after our father died. According to my brother, those two weeks were the time I needed to complete the ritual. The car was supposedly the reward.

My sister added that I visited my mom, and the day I left, my mom went to bed and didn’t wake up again. They told everyone who had ears that I’d exchanged our parents’ lives for money.

The rumours spread. People I had known since childhood began answering my calls cautiously. After the festival, I travelled back home a loner. I cried until I got back to my place.

Eventually, my father’s younger sister invited us to a family meeting. I travelled home carrying my car documents and even my bank records containing the loans I’d taken.

My brother spoke first. He repeated the accusation with confidence until our aunt asked how sure they were. Nobody could speak with any credible evidence apart from the fact that I had been with my mom the day before she died and had not returned quickly after my dad died.

My aunt asked what the spiritual consultant had actually said. After a long silence, our youngest sister admitted that the consultant hadn’t named me. He had asked who stood to benefit from the deaths and who had been away when our father died. My siblings then concluded I was the one.

They had gone looking for an explanation and taken my name with them. When the consultant repeated their suspicion, they returned convinced they’d received proof.

I placed the car papers on the table. I showed my aunt what I’d paid, what I’d borrowed, and the dates. Then I showed them the documents for the loans I took for both funerals. Our aunt read quietly while my siblings stared at the floor.

My aunt gave a loud sigh and said, “Your brother was only doing what an elder brother would do. Why taint his name in this manner? Who would exchange the lives of two parents for a second-hand car and debt?”

They were all quiet. I thanked my aunt and left the room with anger sitting heavily on my chest.

A week after the visit, my brother called. He said he was calling as a representative of the other siblings. He said the deaths had frightened them and that seeing me buy a car had made everything the consultant said feel true. He apologised, mentioning the names of my two other siblings, and asked me to look upon the face of God and forgive them.

I told him I had nothing against them. I’m always going to remain their elder brother. My two other siblings also called. They talked about forgiveness and the need to unite in the name of our parents. I said I’d forgiven them.

When A Man Cheats And Doesn’t Disrespect You, It Should Be OK

Today, they think that forgiveness should result in me sending them money and taking care of them as an elder brother.

My two brothers have called asking me to give them money to start something for themselves. My sister learned fashion. She wants money to start her fashion business. I told them, “You saw the documents I showed you. You saw the loans I have taken. Life is not rosy even for me, but don’t worry. When I get something, I will share with you guys.”

I’d rather throw my money on the street for strangers to pick up than give a pesewa to any of them.

—Ato  

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******