CHAPTER 2 – “THIS FAMILY CALLED MINE: COLOUR US UP”

©️ Opeyemi Akintunde

“We are going to party hard, ‘cause it’s your father’s death day…Go shawty, it’s your father’s death day!”

The chanting of multiple male voices grew louder as I sat in the kitchen, waiting for everyone’s arrival.

Sometimes, I wondered why I was the way I was. Always caring, always trying to hold this broken family together. There was something in me that loved my family…be it blood or step.

I had wished our home was a place of peace, a place of love, but my father had ensured that was never possible.

Growing up, we were the hated girls. And then, one morning, our reality shifted again…

We woke up to the shocking revelation that our father had a second family…a family he was done hiding because, in his words, they were the legitimate family.

Their mother had given him what my mother couldn’t…two sons.

Adeori, the firstborn of the second family, was three years younger than me.

The story went that the moment my mother gave birth to me…her third daughter…my grandmother took matters into her own hands. She sought spiritual consultations, and when the verdict came that my mother would never bear a son, she gave my father permission to take another wife.

They called my mother all sorts of names.

A cursed woman.

A mermaid who could only give birth to other mermaids.

Their belief was confirmed when, at the same time my mother gave birth to our last sister, the woman my grandmother arranged for my father gave birth to a boy.

That was it. My father checked out emotionally.

And so, my father built a new family while leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Adeori and Tobiloba were my father’s sons, his pride. But they didn’t come alone. Their mother, a twin, inherited her late sister’s three kids;  two boys and a girl.

Now, try to imagine what our home became when that second family was brought in…

There was my father, a biased man who couldn’t stand the sight of us girls.

There was my mother, who became a shadow of herself as my stepmother arrived like an armored tank in a knife fight.

And then there was poverty.

My father was broke, yet he thought himself worthy of two wives, six biological children, and three adopted kids.

We were always last.

My Father was always first to eat.

My stepmother came next.

The heirs followed.

Then the cousins of the heirs.

And finally, my mother, my sisters, and I….even if it was my mother who cooked.

The real suffering began when my father hit a jackpot.

A gallery abroad bought his paintings and gave him an exclusive contract. Suddenly, we weren’t just poor anymore…we were outsiders in our own home.

My stepmother knew something about his success that we didn’t. She had something to do with it. I knew because my father always threw words like…

“Useless mother and useless daughters! See how Adenike gave me sons and also brought me good luck in business!”

I wasn’t stupid. There was more to that success.

****

My phone beeped, pulling me back to the present.

I figured it was one of my lousy stepbrothers calling to ask where I was. After all, I was the only person everyone in the family spoke to.

But I was wrong.

It was AdeWale.

My maternal stepbrother.

Yes! You read that right.

My mother, the so-called cursed woman, also had a son.

She had tried to fight back by doing exactly what my father did…she had an affair.

And unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for her), it resulted in pregnancy.

That was how ADewale was born.

And the truth?

He was the only one doing well.

He wasn’t suffering like my sisters and I. He was free from the Clarke bad luck.

It almost felt like because he wasn’t my father’s son, he was blessed.

To be continued…

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