In the midst of all this, my main focus was to ensure that my mum did not find out about the pregnancy. In addition to wearing a cardigan throughout, I busied myself with domestic chores. I would wake up early to milk the cows, then work throughout the day in the farm, before retiring to bed late.

One day, my mum was unwell and unable to go to work. That day, I kept myself busy with chores around the home and the shamba. I even gave myself unnecessary duties just so that I would avoid her.

Suddenly, I heard my mother call out.

“Diana when you finish all those things you’re doing, please come here”.

I froze. There was something in her tone that made me suspect that she already knew. I wished the earth would swallow me.

But I still preferred to give myself more duties. I didn’t want to face her. How could I? I got hold of a jerrycan and went to fetch water. I was employing delay tactics.

Then I heard her voice again. “Diana did I call you or not?” I breathed in….and breathed out…. The day of reckoning was finally here. My nightmare was unfolding.

I slowly walked to her bedroom.

“Close the door behind you,” She said.

“I see you’ve been putting on quite some weight. Are you sure your health is fine?” she asked.

I kept quiet.

She went on.

“And since when did you start putting on a bra?” (I was the petite type and I had never worn a bra before). But even before I could think of an answer, she ordered me to take off all my clothes. I thought she was going nuts. I stood before her in shock, thinking I had not heard right. But she quickly clarified:

“Am I speaking a foreign language? Have you not heard me tell you to take off your clothes?”

Slowly, I removed my blouse. My growing breasts, neatly tucked in a bra, became exposed. My protruding tummy, with the dark line running from the navel downwards, stood out. I was six months pregnant. There was no denying it.

I saw tears form in my mum’s eyes. I had let her down.

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