But then, after the baby was born, he stopped calling regularly. The money also stopped coming. One night, a woman answered his phone and said, “Stop calling my husband.”
That was when I started to look for the truth. I discovered he had a second home in Kericho, with another woman who thought she was his only wife.
The betrayal almost broke me. He died in a car accident just two weeks later, before I could talk to him about it.
What hurt the most was being completely forgotten. I wasn’t even mentioned in his obituary. I didn’t come to ask for sympathy. I came to tell my truth and to claim my daughter’s right to know her father’s legacy.
I told everyone how he supported me during my pregnancy, how he chose our daughter’s name himself. I even played the last voicemail he sent me, where he called me “mama mtoto wangu”, which means “mother of my child”.
The silence that followed was heavy. That woman jumped up and called me a liar, but the mood began to change. The elders asked for a private meeting with both families.