After skipping showing up for my daughter’s birth, rumours over her paternity prompt me to punch Timo. PHOTO | BD GRAPHIC
Now I understand why many men run away from their homes once there is a new baby. It is because their houses become impossible to live in.
My house has become something else since my daughter Carrie Gatwiri came into this world last week. I will never forget the day she was born because of all the attendant drama that came with it.
As if getting Shiro to hospital was not bad enough, we had a near fight on accompanying her to the labour ward. Call me old-fashioned but there is no way I will enter the labour ward.
We had the same argument during Maingi’s birth and the outcome was the same. However, Shiro thought that since I have been accompanying her for prenatal checkups, I have changed my position.
On the D-day, Shiro brought up the topic again saying how I would be holding her hand. I knew better than to argue with her but I also knew that there was no way I was entering the labour ward with my mother around.
We had been in hospital for about four hours and the doctor came and told us that “we still had some time to go.”
I knew this was my opportunity and so I told Shiro, “Why don’t I go home and drop mum and pick up anything that you need then I come back.”
She seemed to buy my story and said, “you can go and please do not be too long.”
When we got home, I made every deliberate move to take my time. I logged into my work email to attend to some work, took a nap and even waited for my son to arrive from school. Strangely enough, Shiro did not try to reach me so I assumed that all was well.
At about 7pm, I started making my way to the hospital. En route, I decided to get some liquid courage by stopping at a bar for a few beers. To cut a long story short, by the time I got to hospital at 9.30pm, our daughter was already here and Shiro was too exhausted to argue about my no-show and the smell of booze on my breath.
Two days later we brought the baby home and my house has since then become a beehive of activity. All week, I had to put up with numerous visits from family and friends who want to see our new born. To be honest, I have only held her once or twice, so I am yet to confirm who she actually looks like.
I have been reduced to an errand boy, picking supplies and groceries for the visitors. My mother is loving it all since the new born is named after her and in her books, Shiro can now do no wrong.
On Friday, I joined the boys for a congratulatory drink, which turned out to be endless rounds being sent my way.
At some point in the evening, we got into a heated debate about the merits and demerits of accompanying your wife all through labour. I cannot believe that some of my friends actually consider the whole process “emotional and inspiring.”
By 1 am, only my friend Timo and I were still standing as we consumed pint after pint. Timo then told me, “Josphat, I have been hearing some strange rumours about your wife.”
“Do not tell me about rumours unless you heard them from a credible source and you can repeat them tomorrow when sober,” I told him. He hesitated and said that he had heard the story from two pastors at the church.
“What did you hear?” I bellowed.
What he told me shocked me. He said, “My guy, word in church is that Shiro has been having an affair with a colleague for the last one year and that your second born might not be yours.”
And that is how I ended up in the cells after punching Timo.
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