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True Confession: My Brother 

By Godlove*

( — Your ‘True Confession’ column is truly fascinating and instructive. After reading one of the editions, I wanted to write immediately, but felt intimidated by the literary skills of the writer. I ultimately decided to take my time and try to write a readable narrative, hoping that it will not be a laughing stock. I write this is an open forum because I badly need advice and the other persons involved in my story, and their entourages, will definitely not read it. They are not the reading type.

My confession is simple: I have been sleeping with my brother’s wife for over two years now. There are no twists and turns in my story. There is equally no complicated plot because I have not spiced my story. I am rendering it as it is.

It started in late August 2009. My older brother, a truck driver, was around Belabo in the East Region for work. There was nothing new about that. He often spent days and weeks away from home. But on this day, his wife, obviously acting under the influence of alcohol, decided that one brother is as good as the other.

On that day, she insisted I accompany her to a women’s meeting. The meeting was supposed to share out savings and was organising a small party to which husbands were invited. The meeting was conceived to help mothers save money for the new school year. My brother and his wife had no children, but were very responsible persons who helped relations financially. That is perhaps why Marie (not her real name) joined the women’s meeting. I was a benefactor of their generosity, having gone through university thanks to their unhesitating financial support.

At the meeting, Marie became extra-ordinarily talkative after consuming a few bottles of beer. Although I don’t drink everyday, I believe I can hold my own in a beer-drinking competition. Relatively more sober, I advised her to slow down, but she paid no attention. As the evening wore on, I also became a bit tipsy and stopped worrying about Marie taking too much alcohol.

A lot of booze was available. As a jobless person, I didn’t have that opportunity everyday to have a beer. So I decided to take advantage and have some fun. As the youngest man in the party, the women, freed by alcohol from certain inhibitions, were all excited about dancing with me. I guess some husbands were alarmed, but most of them warmed up to the fun as events unfolded. The party became very exciting and I didn’t mind staying out with Marie until very late in the night.

On a few occasions during the party, Marie interrupted women dancing with me, saying “Let me dance with my husband.” To which the women let me go after throwing jokes about Marie being a jealous wife. While we danced, Marie was especially romantic, holding me tight and rubbing her behind against me.

It was around 11:30 p.m. when we left the party. Marie was very drunk and I had to support her while we walked to the roadside to take a taxi. Although I was quite tipsy, I was still relatively stable on my feet. In the cab, she put her head against my chest and was romantic in other ways, but there was no cause for alarm.

When we got home, she insisted that I spend the night in their marital bed. That was when the red light started flashing. After some hesitation, the devil, taking advantage of the alcohol in my body, got the better of me and I accompanied my brother’s wife to bed, protesting, but not in earnest. That is how it happened the first time.

Panic gripped me when I woke up the next morning. It was Saturday. The house was dead quiet. My heart raced. What was happening? I jumped out of bed and rushed through the house. Nobody in sight!

I returned to my brother and his wife’s bedroom to see whether there were any signs that could hint me about something being amiss. That is when I saw the note Marie had left. She and her small sister had already gone to the market and there was breakfast in the kitchen, she wrote. Marie was a trader.

This calmed me down a bit, but I still felt psychologically tortured. Apart from fearing that my brother might realise a change in the atmosphere when he returned, there was Marie’s younger sister, in Form 3, staying in the same house. We shared a bedroom and I was wondering what she thought had happened when she didn’t see me in my bed the previous night and that morning. I also wondered whether she had overheard our discussions, considering that we must have been loud.

When Marie and her younger sister returned, they behaved very normally. There was no look of suspicion from the younger sister. Marie conversed normally and did not even seem to notice when I averted her eyes.

My brother returned a few days later and everything went on as usual. It was just as if nothing had happened at all. When he travelled again for work, the house was converted to a love nest for Marie and I. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

As weeks turned into months without any incident that could have frightened us into stopping our evil romance, we became more daring. When my brother was not around, Marie’s business suffered tremendously. She faked illness on many occasions so that she could stay at home with me in the mornings when her younger sister was in school.

At night, I went to join her in their matrimonial bed as soon as her younger sister went to sleep and tip-toed back into my own bed only around 5:00 a.m. It is not that I was not feeling guilty or bad. I was feeling terrible most of time. But whenever I thought of the nice times I was going to have with Marie, all my sense of guilt melted away.

At one point, I brought up to Marie the possibility of us being caught. She told me not to worry because we were never going to be caught. I also noticed at one point that her younger sister’s behaviour towards me had changed, suggesting that she had discovered the truth. But Marie assured me that her younger sister would never betray her.

My brother is nine years older than I. He was a big disappointment to my parents because he was no good at school, having dropped out in secondary school. He did an apprenticeship as a car mechanic, and then worked as a car mechanic for some years, before finally becoming a driver. He drove everything from taxi cabs, buses, bulldozers, before settling down as a truck driver.

Despite the disappointment of my parents in him, he was a hard working man with a good heart. When my father died, he became the pillar of the family.

He married Marie in 2005. Incidentally, she is only slightly older than I. At the time Marie and I started our secret romance, they had been married for four years. Marie sometimes lamented to me about her inability to bear a child. She said she had done several tests and doctors always said they could not find any problem with her womb. She had suggested to my brother to also go and see a doctor for a check up, but he won’t hear of it.

When I got a job seven months ago, I decided it was time for me to move out of my brother’s house. At that point, I thought frequently of my betrayal of his kindness and trust, and wished I could turn back the clock. Perhaps leaving the house could create the distance between Marie and I to bring about a natural end to our secret relationship. But my brother was strongly opposed to the idea of my renting my own quarters, arguing that I needed to save money before making such a move.

If I had left the house at that time, perhaps life would have been less complicated for me. As it so happens, I am in a deep mess right now. Marie informed me of her pregnancy about three and a half months ago. She said I was responsible, but of course my brother was not going to know the truth.

My brother is very happy about his wife’s pregnancy. When I see his happiness, I feel like a dagger has gone through my heart. I fear that he would one they find out the truth. I am in a dilemma. Should I let him live the lie? Should I flee to a neighbouring country with Marie, and write a letter to my brother confessing the truth? Should Marie do an abortion, and then claim it is a miscarriage? I don’t know what to do. Any piece of advice will be highly appreciated. Please write to:

* Name withheld on request

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