My
two-year old son has no idea whom his father is. Three years ago, 2013, to be
more specific, my husband and I got married. It was a colorful wedding as we
had spent hundreds of thousands of shillings on it; such a perfect day for a couple.
We had planned on having two children, a boy and a girl, if possible. And I
longed for that.
He had promised to take me to Zanzibar for our honeymoon. And
immediately after the wedding, we travelled. It was during the honeymoon when
things got a little 'messy' and we decided to go ahead and have our first baby.
Two weeks later, we jetted back to our home in Nairobi. But I noticed something
different. My period had not stopped. I became worried, just a little bit
hiding my emotions from my husband.
No morning sickness, occasional vomiting, nothing at all; nothing
to reveal that I was expectant. I decided to take it slow, not to alert my husband.
What was the problem? Had I been cursed? Questions and thoughts of despair and
doubt took the better part of me. Being cursed only came to my mind as women in
my village had always talked about it.
Before the week could end, I visited a doctor to be examined. And
after keen testing and scrutiny, the doctor told me that everything was okay. What!?
It must be my husband! All the blame and anger in me shifted towards him. But I
wasn't sure how to approach him on this grave issue. I had to tread carefully
on this path. I had to be cautious. Informing him of the news was something I was
not sure of as it could have eventually led to a disheartening choice of
divorce - something I wasn't ready for.
I decided to formulate a plan; a plan that no one in my village could
ever attempt to undertake; completely forbidden. Earlier, my grandfather had
told us a story about a woman who was able to conceive with help of a witch
doctor; superstitious nonsense, of course, as no one could believe it.
Desperate for a baby and with fear of being seen as the odd- one
-out among my female friends, I decided to try it out. This plan looked simple
but really dangerous at the same time. The following weekend, I lied to my
husband that my mom had wanted to see me in 'shags'. Simple. He fell for it and
I left.
The truth is I never got closer to my parents' home, leave alone
the compound itself. I went straight to the witch's house located in some bushy
surrounding. And that's where all the magic happened.
Later I gave birth to a healthy baby boy and to this day I have never told my husband who the father of the child is. Do you think I should let him know the truth?