"You can't be serious, doctor. What are you saying?" I was in denial of the obvious.
"I'm sorry Mr Onuoha, but you're not the biological father of your last three children. "
"This must be an expensive joke."
"DNA does not lie."
"Doc, those children calls me Dad."
"It doesn't make them your biological children. "
I knew the doctor wasn't lying. I only came to his hospital to reconfirm what a previous test had confirmed. Among my four children, only the first is my biological child.
"Doctor Dibia, I've been the father of those children right from the time they were conceived. How could this happen to me?"
"Kacy my friend, in this profession I've seen such cases many times. Some men will find out and choose to bury the secret because of shame, while some will take drastic measure."
"I'm finished, doctor."
"I'll advice you calm down and go home. Your wife has got some explanation to make."
"Sure, Chioma has got some explanation to make. And it better be a reasonable one."
What have I just said? A reasonable explanation? Can there be any explanation reasonable enough to justify this act? That I, Kelechi Onuoha, is not the biological father of Shedrach, Meshach and Abednego. Children that I love so much and loved their mother more each day for giving me three boys. I remembered when Abednego was born, I bought a brand new CRV four-wheel-drive for my wife in appreciation.
Rant HQ has finished me. Suzan Ade Coker has ruined my life. Why did I even join that group? Oh Chioma! Chioma, you have killed me, Chioma. Ewu a ta m igu n'isi.
I rushed out from the hospital, rushed into my car and drove off like the devil was after me. Anger was boiling in my stomach, pain was beating drum in my heart, and confusion was pounding yam in my head. In an instant I was becoming a miserable wreck.
I'm coming, Chioma.
FLASH BACK:
It was about a week ago that my friend, Mr Gbenga, called me on whatsapp.
"Omo Igbo," that was his usual hello.
"Omo Yoruba," was my hi.
"O boy, I want to add you to one crazy group like that."
"What group is that?"
"Where people rants two-four-seven and dey do amebo."
"Amebo? Abeg add me sharperly."
"There's something I would like you to read anyway."
"Ok."
Few minutes later, notification came on Facebook, "Gbenga Ajayi added you to a close group, Rant HQ." Before I could click, another notification, "Gbenga Ajayi mentioned you in a post", followed by a message on messenger, "Please, go through the comments on that post."
Something seriously needed my attention for Gbenga to have gone to this length. I opened the post, made by Suzan Ade Coker, which was asking men if they're sure of the paternity of their children and of the surprises a DNA test could reveal. What has this got to do with me? Why did Gbenga drag me to the post? I began to read the comments.
Then, gbagam! I saw it. My beautiful wife, Chioma, was a member of the group. Her comment was attracting a lot of attention. It wasn't just a comment. She was practically raining fire and brimestone on the poster, accusing her of trying to break "happy" marriages. She asked for the post to be pulled down or her god will strike the poster.
As I expected, members were attacking her. One said she was a suspect. The other said maybe her gateman was the father of her children. Another one said she probably don't know who the real father or fathers of her children are. I couldn't believe what my wife was ranting. Why being so defensive if she was innocent? Why spitting so much venom?
Yes, her comment made her a suspect. Okwu ya achiputala ya ukwu n'ama. And I must get to the bottom of this.
BACK TO PRESENT:
Wahala dey. Big wahala dey.
To Be Continued.
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