When I was young, I caught my mother having an affair with a man who lived next door. Not once but twice. But after I had seen them with my own eyes, I still saw them at places that made me suspect what was going on was bigger than my little brain could understand.

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We lived in a compound house. That man’s door was a few meters away from our door. His name was Bugyei. My dad was a serial traveler and trusted Bugyei as a friend he lived in the same house with. So whenever we didn’t have something and Bugyei had it, my dad freely went to him to ask.

So when our TV was not working, we went to his room to watch TV. When our iron developed a fault, we used his to iron our shirts. One morning I was dressing up for school when I remembered my mom had entered Bugyei’s room to iron my little brother’s shirt and mine. I entered the room to ask for my shirt when I saw my mom and Bugyei behind the curtain that divided the room.

They quickly put themselves together while I stood there watching what was happening. They thought I didn’t see them because of the curtain, but the curtain was too thin; you could see the silhouette of things when you looked through it. I could see my mom down and Bugyei up. When they got up too, I could see them quickly putting themselves together.

My mom came out first to shout at me to leave. “Don’t you know how to knock when you enter people’s room?” The uniforms were still there; they hadn’t been ironed.

Another day too my mom had entered to watch TV when he asked us to go and sleep because it was late. I slept and woke up to see my mom not there. I got up to go and look for her and that late night, they were sprawled on the floor dancing to the tunes only the gods can play. Again, they quickly put themselves together. My mom warned me with the god of the village that if I ever spoke of it, the gods would come for me.

I was indifferent about it but I knew something wasn’t right. My dad was also a tyrant so you couldn’t get close to him to have a conversation with him. I didn’t talk about it until not long ago when I heard my dad saying our last sister, the one who came after me and my brother, was born by accident. According to him, he had planned not to have another child but my sister came accidentally.

Then memories started to click. We were just two, me and my brother, when I caught my mother twice with Bugyei. Much later, my sister arrived. Could it be that my sister isn’t my father’s daughter?

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

You look at my sister and she doesn’t resemble any one of us, not even my mom. So I have set out to investigate. My problem now is how to get her to do a DNA test without ruffling feathers. She’s currently twenty-six and I’m thirty-six. My brother is thirty-three. Even the age difference tells half of the story.

—Julius

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