The Unforgivable Deed

Written by Editorial Staff

Editorial Staff is a team of writers and editors trusted by over 50.3 million readers from Northern Nigeria

March 22, 2022

It didn’t have to take a soothsayer or a magician to tell me that Abba was mad. Of course, I’d envisioned it, it was bound to happen, I knew this was how it would turn out, but knowing didn’t make it easier. There was a fraction of me, just a little part of me that had hoped Abba would understand, that the man who had loved and raised me so well would dare to trust me, just once more like he always did. His face said otherwise.

“Saminu”. Abba called out, I cringed for disappointment was laced heavily in his voice. “This is what I get for all my efforts, right? This is what I get for using my hard-earned money to send you abroad to study, right?”

I sat up a bit from where I sat, the brown rug a sharp contrast from my white kaftan. The air conditioner was on, making the room cool and airy, but I still felt sweat perspire down my forehead. Abba had always been a reasonable man, but now, reason had gone out the window.

“Abba, I know you’re angry and rightly so. But when you come to think about it, it’s not all that bad. This is something that has changed life, brought happiness and created many new opportunities and will even continue to do so. Science has just brought a new way of making life easier”. Even as I rambled on, I could see Abba shaking his head disapprovingly. He didn’t agree with my point of view.

“Listen, son, you young folks think you know everything. There’s a way the world operates and come thousands of years, it will continue to do so. There are things that will always remain the same. Samir, don’t argue this with me and I forbid you from doing what you planned to do. I fear that if you go ahead and do this, you won’t have someone to call your father”.

I gasped for I knew that my mind was made up even before I broached the topic to Abba. It was time to choose myself, to trust in what I believed was right, even if it meant losing a father.

Four years had passed without setting eyes on the man I formerly called father, it has been four lonely years of wishing I could see him, touch him, hug him one more time and tell him about the man I’ve become. The man he had raised me to be, a man of honest virtue, and to let him know that despite who I am and what I believe, I was still his son.

It has been four years since I became a sperm donor.

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