True Life Story: My Family Accused Me of Killing My Mother For Ruining My Marriage-Pt2
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I came back from the market one evening and found my mother lying down on the couch in the sitting room, with her baggages littered all over the place. As soon she saw me, she started lamenting. She said that my beautiful ‘mammy water‘ of a wife had refused to touch her or anything that was hers, and had refused to give her food since she arrived. When l went into my bedroom, l found my wife sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed crying. She told me that she was tired of all the trouble and wanted out. She said that my mother spat in her face when she went to embrace her and pushed her away, calling her names.
I begged Ese to continue persevering, and she reluctantly agreed. But, every evening l came home to my mother’s lamentations, and Ese crying in my arms in the bedroom at night. It was just too much for me.
Then one afternoon, l got a call from my neighbor. I ran home and found my wife fighting with two of my younger sisters. I had to stop the fight by viciously slapping my sister. It happened that my mother threw a bowl of soup at Ese; and Ese, unable to restrain herself, threw back the bowl of soup at my mom. My mother had carefully chosen a day when my two sisters were around to carry out her vicious attack. They all swooped on my wife and almost beat her to death. I took Ese to a hospital, and we decided never to return home, but to stay in a hotel afterwards.
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I thought my mother would go home. But, three months later, she was still in my house, with two of my sisters, taking care of her.
I told Ese that l was going back home. She refused to go back with me, and suggested that we rent another house. We had a bitter argument, and she called my mother and sisters ugly names. I angrily slapped her, left the hotel, and went back home.
I thought that Ese would come back home and beg me for forgiveness, but she never did. I never knew that she had really gotten sick and tired of our marriage. Three weeks later, she sued for a divorce, and l simply let her go.
My mother was overjoyed that she had succeeded in driving Ese away. A week later, she brought home a young beautiful girl named Chinwe and said that the girl was her best friend’s daughter, and had come to take care of her, since my wife had run away!
Chinwe was 22 years old, and from the very first day she arrived at my house, she embarked on her mission to seduce me into marrying her. She cleaned my house until it sparkled. She cooked three delicious meals everyday. At night, she would always creep into my bedroom to sleep, but l kept turning her away.
Two months later, my mother had fully recovered but was still in my house. I told her point blank that she should go home and let me rest. I engaged her in a heated quarrel, and she cried for three straight days; calling upon my uncles to come to my house; that l wanted to kill her.
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Three of them came on a Sunday, and after protracted haranguing, they concluded that my mother must not leave my house until either l married Chinwe, or brought a new wife to show them. My mother must have bought all of them over with her money and stubbornness. They even resorted to seriously pleading with me; saying that they all meant well for me and that l should have mercy on my mother and produce a male child before she dies, or else, my mother will not rest well in her grave.
I caved in to the pressure, just for the sake of my own sanity and decided to give Chinwe a chance. l started sleeping with her.
Three months later, she was pregnant. We went back to her place in Orlu and got married traditionally. My mother was overjoyed.
Eight months later, Chinwe had a bouncing baby boy for me. Out of joy, my mother named him, ‘Nnamdi’, which literally means, ‘my father is alive’ in Igbo.
Finally, there was a semblance of peace in my life. My business was doing fine, and l even opened a small boutique for my wife, Chinwe, since she seemed so obsessed about owning one.
One recurrent problem with my son Nnamdi, was that he was so frail and sickly. I spent hundreds of thousands of naira on hospital bills and nourishment to make sure he looked healthy, but all to no avail.
Then in January 2022, Nnamdi had an health scare, he convulsed and fainted. We rushed him to hospital, and the doctor ran a series of tests on him. The doctor was able to revive him; but only for a short while, as my son Nnamdi, died that night.
It was only after he died, that the doctor took me aside, and told me that Nnamdi was of the ‘SS’ genotype; and that the fact that he was a sickler was a contributing factor to his death. I accused the doctor of being incompetent; telling him that it was not possible that my son was ‘SS’, since l was ‘AA’ and my wife Chinwe was ‘AS’.
The doctor sat me down in his office, called my wife into the office, and asked her which genotype she belonged to. She slowly answered ‘AS’, l was just too shocked to speak to her.
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And it was only when the doctor asked her to then explain how my late son turned out ‘SS’, if l was ‘AA’, and she was ‘AS’, that she collapsed on the floor, and started crying and begging for forgiveness.
It was shattering to discover that my wife had slept with another man, who fathered Nnamdi. She even confessed that it was my mother that convinced her to sleep with Aminu, my gateman, after my mother reasoned that l must be sterile; for not being able to impregnate Chinwe for the first three months that l slept with her. And that my mother was even planning for Aminu to impregnate her again, before my son died!
I took Aminu, my gateman, to the hospital. And a simple test confirmed that he was of the ‘AS’ genotype. The doctor also persuaded me to go for a fertility test; l did the test, and it was proven that l had a low-sperm count. But, the doctor told me that all hopes were not lost; since l still had the chance to boost my sperm count, with some special supplements and by adhering to a specialized diet.
I threw both Chinwe and my gateman Aminu, out of house and vowed to have nothing to do with my mother; who had finally gone back to Aba immediately after Nnamdi died, again.
But l was heart-broken. It was my mother that pushed Ese, the only girl l ever loved, out of my house. It was my mother that brought Chinwe into my life, it was her that masterminded what Chinwe did to me. Infact my mother just totally destroyed my life, just for her quest to see her grand-children before she died. How I hated her!
And worse still, l later learnt that Ese was now remarried, with two kids for her husband already.
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I went back to the doctor and started taking his supplements and following his recommended diet, to boost my sperm count.
Then l focused on my business, and tried to forget all the trauma my mother had put me through.
But a year later, my mother was back at my house. She said that she came to ask me for forgiveness. And to tell me that she was ready to accept any girl l chose to marry now; if only l promised her that l would immediately go and adopt a male child, after l remarry again!
I told her to go and die!, I was so consumed with bitterness that l called her all sorts of names. I simply just let loose all the anger and frustrations that had been bottled up inside of me, on her.
My mother reminded me how l virtually sponsored Ese through school with her hard-earned money, and how she was the one that sponsored my first wedding to Ese, and how she was the one that loaned me 5 million naira to go into business; money which l haven’t even payed her back yet, and which she had forgone for me.
Then she fell on the floor and wept bitterly, telling me that she was going to die, if l walked out on her without saying that l had forgiven her. I refused and walked out on her.
Finally, l did what Ese had once begged me to do, l rented another flat.
And for three months, my mother hung back there, waiting for me to come back home and forgive her. I didn’t even visit her for once.
Finally, my sister Nkechi came and took her back home to Aba.
Three weeks after she arrived back in Aba, she had a massive heart attack and died in her sleep.
I don’t know what to do now. I love my mother and l owe everything l have to her efforts. But the impression everyone in my family has is that l hated her to death. I bitterly regret having treated her so harshly. It never crossed my mind that she would die. I don’t know how l’m going to face my sisters and my uncles at my mother’s burial. Infact l don’t know how l’m going to face the whole village!
I don’t know how l’m going to live the rest of my life knowing that the only woman l ever loved is living happily with another man; all because of my mother. And that l was fooled for a whole two years by Chinwe; all because of my mother. And that l unknowingly killed my mother, because of these women.
I feel so empty with self hatred. I just feel like killing myself and ending it all.
I need help!
Someone please talk to me!
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