If I had known, I would not have played the America visa lottery. The lottery I played had put indelible scar on my heart, causing me pain daily as I move closer to the grave. I am now 64 years of age.
My undoing was the visa lottery I played in 2007. Prior to this time, all was well, and going smoothly in our family. I had married my wife in 1985.
We were blessed with 3 boys and a girl.
The girl, Moyosore was our first child.
She was born in 1986. The boys came there after in 1988, 1990, and 1994.
My wife was a full time house wife. She had everything at her request. A chauffeur driving car, two house helps, and other conveniences were at her disposals. I was a senior management staff at the defunct NITEL. A trained and accomplished electronic engineer.
I travelled round the country. My assignments most times, were between the Federal Capital Territory, and Owerri in Imo State. I however ensured am in Lagos at least twice a month to see my family. This was between 1986 , and 1997.
I retired in 1999 to start my own private company, which has continued to triumph to God’s glory.
In 2007, I joined several other Nigerians to play the visa lottery of the United States. I was part of the few thousands that won. I was happy, not because of myself, but because of my two younger children who will have the benefit of automatic citizenship of America. My older children; Moyosore, Aanuoluwapo were already schooling in Canada as at the time.
Hmmmmm, one of the major conditions of granting the visa is blood screening, and conduct of DNA for beneficiary’s dependants.
I had submitted necessary documents, and made payments for our screenings at the popular St. Nicholas, Lagos Island. We did the tests as recommended. The results were to be sent to the Embassy. I got a letter at a later date that I should present my passport and my wife’s for visas.
On enquiry, they said the kids I presented weren’t mine. I almost lost my sanity! My kids weren’t mine? “Is that possible” was my song.
I found it difficult to comprehend. Because it happened near my birthday celebration, I invited Moyo and Aanu home under the pretence that they were coming to celebrate with me, and had their DNA carried out.
Alas, only Moyosore was my authentic child!
I became sick, and almost passed on. I was hospitalised for a month. I eventually lost the opportunity to complete the processing of the visas, as I was no longer myself. Abi, of what need is the visa without my kids?
When I got over the shock, I confronted my wife. She was mad with me. She called me unprintable names and a failure. I kept my peace and moved on.
The following week, I invited her to a friend’s party. On our way back, I parked the car and pulled out of the road. She asked why, and I told her not to worry. I then raised the matter again. She rained abuse on me, and called me a drunk. At that point, I pointed a pistol at her side, and threatened to kill her, and dump her on the abandoned road.
I showed her copy of the DNA I got on Aanu, and the notification I received from American embassy.At this point, my wife became parrot.
She swallowed her pride, and confessed. She said Aanu was fathered by David, a friend and colleague, who was more of a brother than friend. We had been friends for almost 30 years.
Tunde and Bidemi were sons of our househelp, Kingsley. Kingsley was from Benue. He worked with us for almost 15 years. I had noticed my wife special interest in him, but never knew he was sharing her with me.
It has been 10 years after the ugly incident, and revelation. I survived the shock, but Adunni never! She died two years after. She couldn’t wait to tell the kids and sort out the problem and havoc she caused.
Till date, the children are not in the know of my predicament. The children are doing good.
The last, Bidemi now 23 is working in a multinational company. He graduated at 19.
So also are the other brothers and their sister, who are doing great in Overseas.
Now, I am 64. I have written my will again and again. I have deleted the names of the boys from my last will, even though I have not gathered enough courage to inform them that am not their biological father.I have not told anyone either, and its killing me day- by- day.
Should I inform them all, or tell only my own daughter? Or I should just die with the thought?