Striking Revelation

STRIKING REVELATION

     “Dad,” Dabere called.

     “Yes son.”

     “Mum,” he reiterated, facing his mother.

     “Yes Dab.” responded the mum.

     “I have come to inform you about my latest plan.” He hinted, stylishly shook his car keys.

     The three were seated in the family’s sitting room. Dabere Uzor, the last child of the couple – Mr. and Mrs. Uzor who could boast of three children, had left his place of residence that fateful day being Wednesday to meet with them on an appointment. The 35-year-old bachelor was resident in the same city with the parents but he rented his personal apartment somewhere away from theirs; he only came around when necessary to check on them or whenever he had something very tangible to discuss with them just as this very one. His elder siblings – a female and a male respectively, were both happily married; needless to say that his parents were living alone, although in the company of a house-help.

     The couple were seated together in the parlour cushion whilst the young man clad in red native attire was separately seated directly adjacent to them.

     “What is it about?” Mr. Uzor inquired, while his wife listened attentively.

      Dabere smiled. “I want to settle down.” He disclosed hesitantly.

     “Are you serious?” quoth Mr. Uzor excitedly.

     “Yes dad.”

      Mrs. Uzor dished out a dazzling smile. “With who, my son?” She anxiously inquired.

     “Chinyere, of course.”

     Chinyere who happened to be of the same age with him was the lady he introduced to them few months back. Interestingly, her birthday coincided with his, which was one of the main reasons that made him see her as his ‘missing rib’. And his parents approved of her having met her thrice.

     “Oh, that’s lovely!” Mrs. Uzor exclaimed.

      Mr. Uzor was elated. “You are indeed a true son of your father.” He teased.

     “You can say that again, dad.”

     “This is good news,” quoth Mrs. Uzor. “Let me get something for you to eat.” She informed, stood up and walked into her kitchen.

     Some minutes later, she returned to the parlour with a tray containing a delicacy – wheat and vegetable soup. “But son,” she called as she served the salivating meal.

     “Yes mum.”

     “I suggest you see our family pastor by the weekend,” Mrs. Uzor thought aloud. “And tell him about your intention.”

     “I think your mum is right.” Mr. Uzor concurred.

     “Okay, I will do that,” Dabere assented. “Probably, on Saturday.”

     “That’s my boy!” His mum applauded cheerfully.

      The meeting lasted for almost three hours. He left there for his apartment, which was about fifteen kilometers away, at 6:15pm.

                           * * * * *

     “Good day, pastor.” Dabere greeted the moment he stepped into the pastor’s office.

     “Oh, welcome Dab!” Pastor Nduka replied. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

     Pastor Nduka was the family’s cleric he was asked to see. He had earlier called to inform him of his coming.

     “Thank you, pastor.” Dabere appreciated as he assumed his seat.

     “Dab, why are you having an affair with your sister?” Pastor Nduka said as soon as the guest sat down, appeared like someone in the spiritual realm.

     “How?” Dabere enquired. “How do you mean, pastor?”

     “I can see you dating your blood sister.”

     “Dating my blood sister?”

     “Yes,” responded the cleric. “You are even engaged to her.” He visualized.

     “I don’t understand, pastor,” quoth Dabere. “You are making me so confused.”

     “Calm down.” Pastor Nduka enjoined. “There’s a lady in your life, right?”

     “Yes, Chinyere.” Dabere replied. “That’s the lady I want to marry.” He added, paused. “That’s the reason I am here.”

      The cleric smiled unfriendly. “No, you won’t marry her.”

     “What’s wrong, pastor?”

     “That very lady is your sister,’ the cleric revealed hesitantly. “In fact, she’s your twin sister.”

     “Twin sister..?”

     “Yes.” Pastor Nduka insisted, nodding frantically.

     “How?”

     “I think your parents would tell you better,” quoth the cleric. “I suggest you go and see them.”

     The striking revelation had to do with the unknown fact that Dabere and Chinyere were twins. Thirty-five years back when Mrs. Uzor gave birth to them, she was told by the nurses in the maternity that one of the twins couldn’t make it, unknowingly to her that the female twin was sold out by the health workers. The abductor who was a single mother later named the kid ‘Chinyere’.

     On her part, Chinyere’s fake mum – Adaego never even told her that she was adopted let alone disclosing that she was an abducted child. Rather, she lied to her that she was her biological daughter, though begotten out of wedlock; all efforts made by Chinyere to meet with whosoever that was her biological father proved abortive. When Adaego abducted her 35 years back in the maternity, she never knew anything about her parental background neither was she told that the kid in question was a twin, thus she (Adaego) never in any way suspected where Dabere was coming from even when she learnt he was born on the same day with her acclaimed daughter.

     On hearing that his parents would be in a better position to tell him more, Dabere hurriedly left the church for his parental home in his car. If not God’s intervention, he would have been involved in a fatal auto-crash while on his way.

     “Dab, is everything alright?” Mr. Uzor said the moment Dabere walked into the sitting room where he was unwinding with his wife.      
     “Dab, what is it?” Mrs. Uzor reiterated.

      Dabere furiously sat down. “I am just coming from Pastor Nduka’s office.” He managed to utter.

     “So?” Mr. Uzor said curiously, while his wife was attentive.

     “He said I am engaged to my blood sister.”

      “Engaged to your what?” Mr. Uzor enquired, astonished.

      “My blood sister.”

      “That you are engaged to your blood sister..?”

      “Yes.”

      “How?” His mum chipped in.

      “He said Chinyere is my twin sister.”

      “Chinyere, your twin sister..?” Mr. Uzor ranted.

      “Yes,” responded Dabere. “He further told me that you both would be in a good position to explain.”

      “Oh, my God.” Mrs. Uzor screamed. “We are finished.”

       Dabere had earlier been notified by his parents that he was born a twin but his twin sister died immediately after birth, as they reportedly learnt. So the disclosure made by the cleric didn’t totally sound weird to him.

      Every finding thereafter confirmed that Chinyere was indeed Dabere’s twin sister. The hospital in question was shut down indefinitely by the relevant law enforcement agency having captured the medical director, and Adaego – Chinyere’s abductor was as well arrested by the police. Chinyere was reunited with her original family after placing her alongside her twin brother on a rigorous deliverance.

     However, few days later, Dabere who couldn’t mentally withstand the memories of the incest was overtaken by dementia; he consequently took to the street. The unannounced repercussion, which was self-inflicted, threw the entire Uzor family in a disastrous mood. 

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Tainted Omen (II)

TAINTED OMEN (II)

    “Jessy,” Jessica’s mum, Mrs. Rita Annan called as she entered into her (Jessica’s) room.

    The encounter was taking place immediately after Jessica’s return from Kumasi. She had arrived home at about 7:45pm (GMT) after the ugly experience she encountered at Francis’ home. The moment she got home, she snubbed her parents, Hon and Mrs. Annan who were seated at the sitting room when she arrived; she walked passed them and went straight to her bedroom looking pale and rejected, thus her mum followed her to the room to ascertain what was actually wrong. The parents had earlier been making frantic effort to reach her via her cell phone but the gadget wasn’t reachable.

     On his part, her dad Hon Mike Annan who had sensed what could be the problem was still seated in the parlour seemed like an armed robber in the police net who would soon be charged to court. Since he got married to his wife, Rita, he was yet to share with her what he did to his girlfriend called Kate when he was still single in spite of his eventual encounter with Francis, which would have propelled him to do so.

     “Mum.” Jessica responded in a very low tone as she lied bitterly in her bed.

     She went to the bed as soon as she entered the room having removed her foot-wears; never minded to undress herself.

     Her mum walked closer, sat at the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” She inquired. “Besides, what happened to your phone?”

     “I switched it off.”

     “Why?”

      Jessica was speechless.

     “Jessy, talk to me,” Mrs. Rita urged. “This is supposed to be one of your happiest moments; on the contrary, you are looking rejected.”

     “That’s the issue, mum.” She hinted, began to sob.

     “Oh my God,” Mrs. Annan exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you?”

      She sobbed heavily. “Go and ask daddy.” She managed to utter amid the weep.

     “Your dad?” Mrs. Rita verified. “You mean, my husband?” She reiterated, placing her left hand on her chest, seemed mesmerized.      

     Jessica nodded. “Yes mum.” She replied in a jiffy.

     “Is okay, is okay.” Mrs. Annan surrendered. “I will be right back.” She assured, stood up and dashed out of the room.

     “Has she confided in you?” Hon Mike inquired anxiously the moment his wife joined him in the parlour, still seated.

      Mrs. Rita walked closer, sat very adjacent to him. “No,” she responded hesitantly. “She refused to speak.”

     “What could be the problem?” Hon Mike thought aloud.
     “That’s why I am here,” quoth Mrs. Rita calmly. “She said I should ask you.”

     “Ask me?”

     “Yes.”

     “Of what?”

     “I don’t know,” she said. “But the way she sounded, it appeared you know much about what she’s passing through.”

     “She just returned from Kumasi,” quoth Hon Mike. “And both of us have been here waiting for her arrival.” He said, paused.

      His wife was quiet and attentive.

     “So, how would I know her plight?” He rode on in pretence. “When did I become a prophet…?”

     Before he could finish the last sentence, Jessica joined them in the parlour, really appeared pale having wiped out her tears. “Dad, you are aware of my predicament,” she interrupted. “Stop pretending.” She emphatically enjoined, standing.

     Her mum looked at her in awe. “What exactly is going on here.” She eventually uttered. 

     Hon Mike was left with no choice than to tell the tale which was long overdue, thus he began to speak therein.

    “You did this to a woman?” Mrs. Annan ranted after the story, which lasted for about fifteen minutes. “My fellow woman?” She added.

     “Dad, you are wicked and heartless.” Jessica shouted, forcedly sat on one of the white cushion chairs in the room.

     “You were lucky she didn’t pour you acid.” Mrs. Rita notified furiously, looked weird. Paused.

      There was a brief tranquility.

     “And, you never bothered to tell me all these while,” she continued. “Not even your daughter who is dating her son.”

     “I am very, very sorry for the inconveniences I have caused you both.” Hon Mike broke his silence. “Just that, I thought I would cause more harm than good if I shared the story with you, especially Jessy.” He concocted.

    “You thought?” His wife quarreled. “Just listen to yourself.”

     Jessica was speechless, looked mean in her seat.

     It was about 8:30pm (GMT)

    “So, why did you do that to her?” Mrs. Rita inquired, referring to the jilted Mrs. Kate.

    “Someone told me he caught her with another man,” Hon Mike hesitantly replied. “So I couldn’t imagine settling down with a cheat.”

    “Someone told you…?” quoth Mrs. Rita. “You amuse me.” She added, paused.

     Jessica shook her head.

    “That means,” Mrs. Annan proceeded. “Someone can as well tell you I am cheating on you, and you would attempt to divorce me without finding out the truth?”

     “I really messed up,” Hon Mike appreciated. “I was even ashamed of myself.”

     “I wish all your children are here to listen to you.” His wife said.

      Jessica was the first child of the couple, and none of her four siblings – all males, were living with the family.

     “Please, let’s stop this blame game,” Hon Mike pleaded. “Right now, we should be concerned with how to make amends.”

     “So, what do we do?” Mrs. Rita enquired having seen reason with him.

     “I suggest we pay them an unscheduled visit.” Hon Mike said. “Thank God she’s happily married too, so she wouldn’t take it too hard on us.” He foresaw, referring to Mrs. Kate.

     “I pray your thought becomes a reality,” quoth Mrs. Annan. “Because I can’t afford to watch my daughter remain in this tattered mood.”

      Jessica stood up calmly, walked back to her bedroom.

     “My dear, take it easy, okay?” Mrs. Rita conscientized Jessica as she (Jessica) took her leave. “All will be alright.” She added, still seated alongside her hubby.

     First thing the following day being Sunday, the three embarked on a journey to Kumasi for the proposed tour. When they got to their destination, their unannounced visit was highly welcomed by the intended hosts, if not the aggrieved Mrs. Kate Ababio who felt like releasing a bullet on the man she had described as a monster; initially, she couldn’t withstand sharing the sitting room with him until her hubby, Chief Ababio sensitized her on the need to do otherwise.

     Hon Annan on his part was very calm and silent, but his wife pleaded on his behalf while kneeling down. “I am your fellow woman,” quoth Mrs. Annan having made several pleas. “I understand exactly how you feel.” She landed, stood up and resumed her seat.

     “My dear,” Chief Ababio called his wife. “Please forgive him...” He asked.

     “Mum, please…” Francis interrupted.

     “If not for anything,” Chief Ababio rode on. “At least, for the sake of these children.” He said, pointing at Francis and Jessica who were closely seated.

     “Please.., Kate.” Hon Annan finally uttered. “That was one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made in my life.” He submissively asserted.

     “I have forgiven you.” Mrs. Kate notified with much ado, smiled.

      Everywhere became agog on that Sunday morning on hearing the last statement. Everyone present including Francis younger ones who were privileged to witness the reconciliation couldn’t hide their joy. At the end, unalloyed harmony was felt among them.

    Behold, the taint eventually metamorphosed into a condiment!

    Two months later, Engr. Francis Ababio walked down the aisle with the bride of the moment, Miss Jessica Annan. It was a remarkable and epoch-making event, to the glory of God.

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Tainted Omen

TAINTED OMEN

    “Angel,” Francis called.

    “Yes Honey.” responded Jessica.

    “It’s high time you met my parents.” He thought aloud.

     Miss Jessica Annan, the 34-year-old Ghanaian-born broadcaster who hailed from Accra the Capital city of Ghana was engaged to Engr. Francis Ababio who was also a Ghanaian and both of them resided in Accra, Ghana, but the former was yet to meet the latter’s parents who lived in as well as hailed from Kumasi - a distant province from Accra. On the contrary, Francis had severally met with her parents because she lived with them. This time, the equally 34-year-old promising bachelor thought it wise to disclose his intention to balance the equation as they were catching their funs at a relaxation joint situated in the vicinity of his place of residence. It was about 5:15pm (GMT) on Tuesday.

    “Really?” Jessica elatedly exclaimed.

    From the look on her face, she had been longing to embrace such moment. She was dark-complexioned, pretty, plump about 1.56 metres tall and was clad in a pink gown, plaited hairs, designer perfume and a pair of ash sandals coupled with her various jewelries. Right before her was an already opened bottle of cold soft drink positioned on the white round plastic table they were making use of; it was accompanied with a white straw.

     “Ya,” said Francis. “It’s time to harmonize the deal.”

     On his part, an equally opened bottle of cold stout was facing him. His white polo, blue jean trousers and white leather slippers to match made him looked smart and younger. He was sparingly fair, slim and about 1.67 metres tall.

    “The pleasure is all mine,” she enthused. “Thanks a lot!”

    “You’re welcome, dearie.”

    “So, when shall we be heading for Kumasi?” She anxiously enquired, sipped her drink via the straw.

     He sipped his too. “By the weekend.” He answered. “Would that be okay by you?”

     “Hmm….,” she murmured, recalling her schedule for the week. “Yes, of course.”

     “Fantastic.” Francis appreciated. “So we have a deal, right?”

     “Yep,” replied Jessica. “What day precisely?”

     “Probably…, Saturday.” He suggested. “What do you think?”

     “Saturday would be fine.” She assented, nodding.

       Francis glanced at his wrist watch; it was almost 6pm (GMT), which was about 7pm Nigerian time. “Wow,” he exclaimed in a low tone. “You need to be on your way now.”

      She quickly looked at hers. “You’re absolutely right,” she consented. “They must be worried now.” She added, referring to her parents.

      They both stood up, walked towards Francis’ red Toyota Primera car. “Lest I forget,” he recollected. “There’s something unclear about your dad.”

    “What’s it?”

    “I think he doesn’t feel comfortable each time he sees me around you unlike your mum.”

    “How do you mean?”

    “Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

    “Honey, why are you insinuating such a thing?” She cautioned. “Maybe he’s just being protective.”

     “Protective?”

     “Yes, you know I am his only daughter?” She thought aloud. “So, he wouldn’t like anything to happen to me.”

     “Well, if you say so.” He said, hopped into the car, and started the ignition.

     She hesitantly joined him, and they drove off.

     By the weekend, Saturday precisely, Francis and Jessica arrived Kumasi to meet with his parents as planned; they travelled in his car. The intended hosts had already been notified about the visit. The moment they got to their final destination, the hosts (Francis’ parents) likewise the guests were closely seated on a two-in-one cushion chair; their chairs were situated directly adjacent to each other.

     “Francis,” Chief Ababio called. “Go to the bar and get a bottle of Champagne.”

    “Okay, Dad.”

    Within a few seconds, the wine was served among everyone in the room in the company of four similar long glasses. Thereafter, Francis resumed his seat, crossed his legs.

    “Make yourselves comfortable.” Chief Ababio urged.

     His wife Mrs Kate Ababio smiled, appeared very elated.

    “Thank you, sir.” Jessica appreciated.

   “You’re welcome, dear.” the Chief Host said.

     There was a brief silence. “So my dear,” Chief Ababio the Chief Host broke the silence in haste. “What do you do?” he asked Jessica.

     “I am a broadcaster, sir.”

      Mrs. Kate smiled, felt fulfilled. 

     “Interesting,” Chief Ababio applauded. “Radio or Television?”

     “Radio, sir.”

     “Okay,” he rode on. “So, what’s your full name?”

     “Jessica Annan.”

     “Annan?” the female host chipped in.

     “Yes ma.”

     “From Accra, right?”

     “Yes ma.”

     “What’s your father’s name?”

     Chief Ababio alongside his son, Francis was so surprised how the woman took over the interview; more fascinatingly, hers was proceeding in breakneck speed.

    “Honourable M.P Annan.” Jessica replied.

    “Honourable Mike Annan?” She verified.

    “Yes, ma.”

    “That bastard!” Mrs. Kate thought, soured her face. “You again?” She hinted aloud, pointing one of her right fingers at the female guest.

    “What’s it, ma?” Jessica inquired.

    “What’s it?” Her hubby reiterated.

     She became moody, thereby ignoring the enquiries.

    “Mum, what’s it?” Francis added.

     She remained moody, seemed brutal.

     Jessica who couldn’t fathom the scenario, likewise others, seemed electrocuted that she almost peed on her panties.

     “You again in my life?” Mrs. Ababio reiterated, furiously stood up. “Nooo…” She ranted loudly, walked towards her matrimonial room.  

     Francis followed her to the bedroom whilst Chief Ababio and Jessica were still seated in the parlour, embarrassed. When he got to the room, his mum was already seated on the bed, looking very mean.

    “Can someone tell me what’s really going on here?” Chief Ababio shouted, seated still.

     Jessica began to sob, stood up and attempted to walk away.

    “Jessica…” Chief Ababio called tenderly. “Sit down, my dear.” He urged, paused. “I must get to the root of this, today.” He eventually assured her.

    She heeded the advice, went back to her sit, still sobbing.

    Immediately, Francis and his mum returned to the parlour. “Mum has something to share with us.” Francis announced having gotten the awaited gist, then went back to his seat and cuddled his fiancée. “Be strong, okay?” He enjoined her.

    Jessica nodded, became sparingly strong again.

    Mrs. Kate joined her hubby in the chair, then took time to share the unknown story, which was long overdue.

      Down the memory lane; about 36 years back, Jessica’s father Hon Mike Annan jilted Francis’ mother Mrs. Kate Ababio when they were still single. Then, the young Kate who was obsessed with Mike was engaged to him and they were about to tie the connubial knots, not until one fateful morning when Mike boldly walked up to her and notify her that he was no longer interested in the proposed marriage for an undisclosed reason. More painfully, few weeks later, she learnt that he had wedded another woman who later begot Jessica among others. Mrs. Kate had some time ago shared the memorable story with her husband, Chief Ababio, but it seemed he couldn’t recall the name of the man in question.   
     So, when Mrs. Kate Ababio shouted ‘You again?’, she was actually referring to Hon Mike Annan; she couldn’t imagine that the image of that very man who she could best be described as a ‘monster’ would appear in her precious life again.

    This is exactly the reason Jessica’s dad had been uncomfortable whenever he saw Francis around his daughter; he was definitely suffering from guilty conscience. And, he was of the view that their proposed marriage wouldn’t work if Francis’ mum got to realize Jessica’s parental background.

     “What?” Jessica shouted the moment she absorbed the gist as being narrated by Mrs. Kate.

     “My dear,” Mrs. Kate called Jessica frankly. “My son can’t marry you.” She declared unequivocally.

     “Mum, please don’t talk like that.” Francis quarreled.

     Chief Ababio who recollected the story the moment it was disclosed to the gathering was speechless, couldn’t utter even a word.

     Jessica hastily stood up, dashed out of the sitting room. Conspicuously she couldn’t withstand the tainted omen. Her fiancé joined her but she warned him to steer clear of her. Therein, she set her journey back to Accra in an aggressive and devastated mood.

    Who knows what would happen to her father when she got home? Think about it, till we meet next week!

       

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