Costly Family Feud

My Dad sat in the living room sipping a cold glass of whiskey. The air-conditioner was on. I was sitting on the sofa opposite him. My eyes were calmly scanning the pages of a newspaper I had bought when I was returning that morning from the short trip to the market. The smell of cooking drifted to us from the kitchen and my belly responded to it with a slight rumble. My sister, Jennifer, knew her way around with pots and pans, and her food always delighted the tongue of whoever ate them.

I noticed dad had not changed out of his chieftaincy attire. When he returned that morning, he had merely removed his red cap, and flung it on the low center table, gotten a bottle of wine and sat to drink. Presently, I folded the paper and placed it on the sofa besides me and lifted my face to him, but his mind seemed to be far away, like I wasn't in his thoughts at all.

I cleared my throat a bit loudly and succeded in attracting his attention. His gaze rested on my face a few seconds then away. I ventured to speak to him.

“Eh…sorry dad, about that your decision…”

He was calmly watching me for some time, a scowl seemed to hover on his face.

“Which decision?”

“Your decision to marry a new wife.”

“What about it?”

“Can I…can we do anything to change your mind?”

He didn't reply. One of his arms was resting on the arms of the sofa. He seemed to be looking at the bottle and glass of wine on the table. Then he took out his handkerchief and cleaned his face, he seemed to be sweating despite the fact that the air-conditioner was humming ceaselessly.

“My son…” He began.

The scowl was gradually fading from his face and his countenance was becoming more friendly.

“When I married your mother years ago, I made her a promise that she was going to be the only woman in my life. I loved her like any man would love a woman. But I can no longer keep that promise.”

Some of the reasons for his decision played vaguely at the edge of my mind but I decided to ask anyway.

“Why?”

He lifted his face to me in shocked surprise.

“Of course you know why.”

His words came out in a brusque manner, like he felt slighted by my question. His countenance was like he was saying 'stupid boy, don't ask me that.’

His words came out as the words of a lecturer teaching a class of troublesome students. It was slow and measured and carried an undertone of annoyance. Before the chieftaincy title, dad had been one of the most cheerful and accommodating people I've ever known. There was always a smile on his face or a friendly word in his mouth. Only some years ago he was still a Reverend Minister in one of the churches and people flocked to his sermons because of the lively atmosphere it created. But he had resigned his ministerial position and soon afterwards took the chieftaincy. Now he was going to marry a new wife.

When he had raised this issue during one of our family meetings, everyone, including me and my sisters and mother had disagreed with him, but he had ignored us. He wasn't seeking our permission, he said. After the meeting, I sat with mom as she told me the kind of man he was when they got married and how power and money had changed him. She even mentioned something about him being a member of an occult group. People were shocked when they heard dad was about to marry a second wife. You can imagine it as the the shock of the disciples when Jesus told them about the mishandling of the ministry's purse by Judas.

The church leadership had cautioned dad but he paid them no need. When they sanctioned him, he simply stopped attending altogether.

He said he could not keep the chieftaincy title if he didn't have a second wife, as per the law of the land. And two, he wanted other sons besides me, who was the only son, in case anything happens to me, so his lineage could remain intact. For one to retain the chieftaincy they had to have at least two male heirs.

In the coming weeks, the marriage was being arranged. Wine was taken to the young woman's extended family whom dad planned to marry and the two families got acquainted. I refused to be part of these proceedings as a way of strongly voicing my dissent. I traveled out of town and only visited the house to see my mother and my sisters.

As I was sitting at my office desk one fine breezy morning, I cast my mind back to a time a married couple had come to my dad for counseling. He was still a minister then, a fiery and reputable one for that matter. The wife of the man had worrry etched all over her face. She protested her husband's decision to remarry to my dad who counselled them both out of the scriptures. One of the things I love about dad was his extensive knowledge of the Bible. He could quote chapters and chapters and knew almost every verse of the holy book. Sometimes, when speaking to us his children or other people, he reinforced his points with timely quotations from the scriptures. He also quoted famous figures and popular books. It was an easy thing to listen to him for hours on end, spellbound.

After the couple had gone, mum and dad dwelt for sometime on the issue of marrying more than one wife. My dad had strongly confirmed that such thoughts would never come to his mind, not while he was still a servant of Christ. I sat on the sofa and didn't say a word while listening to them talk.

That version of my dad had sadly vanished. He had gotten his master's degree shortly afterwards, and went overseas for his PhD. When he returned he took up a job as a lecturer in one of the prestigious universities. Years later he was given a political appointment. The bishop had warned him to turn down the appointment but he refused. That was when he began to change.

I attended the wedding just to honor him as my dad, and because I was his only son. My sisters did too. But there was already an abyssal gap between us and him. He was on one side and we and our mom was on the other.

The marriage failed to produce a male heir in there first few years. But dad kept hoping. His second wife had given him two female children. My dad was blindly clinging to the chieftaincy title at the cost of dividing his own household. Mum had moved out of the house for him, half a year after the new wife moved in. She said he rarely acknowledged her presence in the house and the disrespect was becoming too much to bear. Mum was living with one of my sisters, Janet, who had married a wealthy medical doctor in one of the western states.

After more than 5 years, dad failed to procure a second male heir. He had to let go of the chieftaincy position. Those days there was always a dark shadow resting on his countenance. He was always broodingly absent, I thought, whenever he was with people. Those were the days he made feeble efforts at reconciliation which wasn't a great success. By this time, he was considerably aged and sick, and most of his lavish weath had gone with the wind. In the end, his second wife had to leave with her three daughters and dad was left alone.

I was at his bedside sometime before he passed. We all were, my sisters, my mum and I. He apologized deeply for his indiscreet mistakes that tore our home apart. He wasn't asking us to come back into his life, he was simply asking for forgiveness, he said. He hadn't much time to live anyway.

I caught a sniffle or two among my sisters, five of them sitting close by with heads bowed and arms folded. Tears crawled from Dad's eyes to the pillow his head rested on, but he seemed not to care.

“I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me”

he said in a weak but passionate voice to mum. Mum didn't reply. Dad stretched out his weak and trembling hands to mum's and held it. Mum didn't disengage her hands from his, and I knew she had a accepted his apology.

“Now I can die with peace in my heart and a guaranteed place in the presence of the Lord.” He said.

His seemed focused on the ceiling and the fan that swung round and round.

“Now Lord, lettest thy servant depart in peace according to thy word…”

He was quoting Simeon in the Bible when he held infant Jesus in his arms. The tears came to my eyes and I quickly wiped them with my handkerchief. Dad died in his sleep a few hours later.

All images generated with MetaAI.

The End.