Location: KIKODEP, behind Ziwa La Ng’ombe Primary School in
Bombolulu. I had gone to seek advice about Community based organizations and
Management of Non-governmental organizations from my friend Livingston Nyando
who has been in that field for over 10 years. After I was contented with the
information he unselfishly shared with me, I though better consult him on a
personal matter that had been disturbing me for months.
Ten years ago while on my early morning exercises at Mombasa
beach, I met an attractive young woman sitting by a rock. The tide was low and
it was chilly. She exuded something I didn’t understand but rendered my limbs strength-less.
Women allure mostly when they smile, but this sad one definitely sparkled me. I
played a hero and started with “The only thing that can bring a beauty at the
beach at this hour in sadness is a breaking up marriage.” I wanted to use “broken
heart” instead of a breaking up marriage but thought I should cease the chance
to get her marital status. You never know. “Unfortunately my marriage ended
last night.” She said while taking a look at me from head to toe. Although I was
sweating, I believed to be in my advantage to look athletic.
Well, she was a damsel in distress and a straight man does
not lose golden chances like these. I took her somewhere safe where she could
vent and see that after all her misfortunes I was there for her, physically. Somewhere
I could look straight to her eyes, pass on a message, and sneak a kiss while
she was still wondering. She was agreeable, we made love under white fluorescent
light and unmade bed. The first time I felt like a starving animal. She was
good, and I think I was good too.
Two weeks after when I called her, she said she got back
together with her husband and it would be better that I deleted her number from
my phone. I didn’t, but I did not disturb her too. It had happened to me before
so I cannot be a cry baby about it. I continued with my work, exercises and
other activities until I got a job in the Middle East. I got married too, but didn’t
work out. A lot of years have passed and I’m not even in the Middle East
anymore.
A month and a half ago, I met her again at Naivas
supermarket in Likoni. We said our greetings as friends and she introduced me
to her son Maulidi. He was around ten years old and looked almost the same as
as how I see my pictures when I was ten. Innocently, I asked the boy when his
birthday was and he gladly answered 12th June. Maybe his mind was on
a birthday gift. As I raised my head, Sakina, her mum, was looking at me with
disbelief. She motioned the boy to the counter and they disappeared.
Sleep eluded me that
night, and the day after. And for two weeks I could not be contented with forty
five minute sleep per night. I felt like my blood was calling. The boy’s birth
date was about 9 months after I met his mother. Sometimes he came to my dreams
and calls me daddy. It was painful to realize that my son was being raised up
by another man. Whenever I thought about it, I felt my blood pressuring against
my veins. It was calling, in resonance.
After several efforts and threats, Sakina agreed to meet me
in private to discuss the matter. However, she continued denying my fatherhood.
When I told her about the dates, she said the boy was born prematurely. As for
the similitude, she said it was just luck. After disagreeing, she asked me what
is it that I wanted? To break up her marriage, confuse her kids, or that I wanted
her because she surely doesn’t? She told me she is having a good life and a marriage
and two kids, and begged me not to wreck it for her.
All my friend Livingstone could advice about it was: - A kid
born inside a marriage belongs to those married couple, no matter who the
biological father is. The boy eats well, goes to school, and generally lives a
good life. You should not interfere in that, because things will not only go
wrong for the kids, but also to their marriage. Marriage is sacred; it should
be helped to bloom, not to be broken down. And furthermore, the boy could not
even be yours. You can’t claim him just because you think he looks like you. I am
against it; the society is against you for laying with a married woman. And the
law is also against you.
I was not contented with my friend’s advice. And I did not
lay with a married woman. They had broken up even though not divorced. Maybe
she thought they would not get back together. She should have told me the truth. Instead she
said her marriage was over, which technically absolves me from any intentional
wrongdoing. I did not want to continue feeling the guilt, so I had to claim my
right. I applied through a lawyer a request in the courts to compel Sakina and
Her husband to the boy’s paternity test.
We were at the Mombasa law courts this morning at ten.
Sakina’s husband shook my hand when I introduced myself, but she didn’t. We
waited for our turn and we went in for the proceedings. After a lengthy
argument, the judge declined my request. There would be no DNA test; the only
thing that would prove to the world that he was my boy.
I was disappointed, but it seemed I was not alone. Sakina
and her husband did not talk the whole time we were in the courts. And it
seemed they were about to take different transport means to their home. I headed
for the hubby to plead with him one last time. I thought even though the law
was on his side, he would be understanding enough to heed the cries of a true
father. I hoped my face this morning was convincing enough to make him know the
boy and I are one. But instead I received a heavy unexpected punch on my face. In
less than a minute, I was down and he was stepping angrily on my face, ribs and
legs. I cried out so that the hawkers and street vendors around the court
parking could help.
These are the things conscientious people do. I felt I was
responsible and it was my duty to fight for my son. My flesh and blood. It was
not about society or law, but my right. Marriages breaking up and confusion in
families would just be collateral. But how could I go on normal living while I know
my son is raised in another family and doesn’t know his true father?
Luckily, I did not die. The guy was arrested by policemen. But
I could not rise or walk by myself. An ambulance was called and I was rushed to
Coast General hospital (Makadara). I must have passed out for some hours while
doctors were working on me in the emergency room. But I’m a little better now,
with bandages. Doctors say they would have to watch me for at least four days, that’s
why they admitted me. I’m now laying on a hospital bed in one of the wards on
upper floors, with bandages and still having some pains.
PS: I look hideous, don’t come to visit me.
