African Tales by Kandey, Lagos (2025)

20/08/2025

Whatever you are going through, stay strong. Your story is about to change.

14/08/2025

I saved money today. Tomorrow the money will save me.😏🙄

12/08/2025

WHY I LET MY HUSBAND'S BROTHER TO IMPREGNATE ME EPISODE 4

Two days after the clinic visit, the house felt like a war zone — but only I could hear the gunshots.
On the surface, everything looked perfect. Uche was still glowing like a man who had just won the lottery. He was singing in the mornings, whistling in the evenings, and talking to my stomach like a proud father.
But underneath, I could feel Chidi’s eyes on me every time I passed by. Heavy. Watching. Waiting.

I knew I had to act before he did.
Because Chidi was the type to follow through on a threat.

That evening, I stood by the window, watching the compound. Uche was outside with two of his friends, laughing loudly. Chidi was leaning against the fence, pretending to scroll on his phone. I knew that “pretending” look — it meant he was listening.

I walked into the kitchen, put on the blender to mask my voice, and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years.

“Hello? Rita? It’s me, Amaka.”
The other end went silent for a moment. Then, “Ha! Amaka the ghost! You remember me today?”
“I need your help,” I said quickly. “It’s… about a man.”

Rita had been my roommate back in university — the kind of woman who never cared about rules. If there was trouble to be cooked, she was the chef.
When I explained my situation, she didn’t even gasp. She just laughed.
“Babe, no wahala. Men like that? You either cage them or kill them. And killing in this case means social death.”

Her plan was simple — too simple — but deadly: lure Chidi into something that could shame him so badly, he wouldn’t dare open his mouth about me.

The opportunity came sooner than I thought.
Uche was invited for a two-day seminar in Enugu. That meant it would just be me and Chidi in the house again.
Only this time, I wasn’t the one feeling nervous.

On the evening of Uche’s departure, I wore a simple wrapper and top, no makeup, no perfume — just the “innocent sister-in-law” look.
I cooked yam porridge, Chidi’s favorite, and served it without much talk. He ate in silence, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

When we finished, I quietly said, “Chidi, we need to talk.”

He gave a small smile. “Finally.”
“I don’t want to fight. I just… want to understand what you want from all this.”

He leaned back, eyes scanning me. “I want my child to know me. And I want you to stop pretending you don’t want me. That’s all.”

I looked down, pretending to be unsure. “So… if I give you what you want, you won’t tell Uche?”
He grinned, thinking he had won. “Exactly.”

That’s when I made my move.
I reached for my phone under the table and tapped the record button.

“Fine,” I whispered. “Then come to my room tonight.”

At exactly midnight, I heard his footsteps in the hallway. I left the door slightly open. He stepped in shirtless, smiling like a man about to eat stolen meat.
I made him sit. I poured him a drink. I kept my phone hidden under the pillow, still recording.

As he started talking — about how Uche could never satisfy me, how the baby would always be his — I just kept nodding. Every sentence he spoke was a nail in his own coffin.

Then, just as he leaned in to kiss me… a loud knock shook the door.

We both froze.
Another knock. Louder.
“AMAKA! OPEN THIS DOOR!”

It was Uche’s voice.

But… Uche was supposed to be in Enugu.

TO BE CONTINIE...
Like, Comment and Share for Episode 5

03/08/2025

WHY I LET MY HUSBAND'S BROTHER TO IMPREGNATE ME EPISODE 3

The next morning came faster than I expected.

I barely slept. My heart was pounding through my chest all night like someone banging generator on my ribs. Uche was sleeping peacefully beside me, one hand gently resting on my back like a loyal husband who still believed his wife was faithful.

I stood up before 6am and entered the bathroom, staring at my reflection like I was looking at a stranger. My eyes were darker, my lips dry, and my stomach… rounder.

It was showing. Not too obvious to others, but me — I could feel the change. The tenderness in my breast, the subtle ache in my waist. This wasn’t bloating. This was life — Chidi’s life — growing inside me.

By 8:30am, we were at PrimeCare Clinic, the same place we had been to three times in the past year. The nurse who attended to us smiled like she was seeing an old couple trying again for their miracle.

“Mrs. Nwankwo, please come in for vitals,” she said. I walked in with trembling legs.

Uche wanted to follow me, but I signaled him to wait outside. He nodded and sat, scrolling through his phone with hope in his eyes.

They ran a blood test. The doctor smiled.

“Congratulations, madam. You’re pregnant. Five weeks, four days.”

Boom.

Just like that.

I stared at the doctor like he had just announced my funeral. But I forced a smile. “Ah… that’s wonderful.”

He asked, “Would you like me to invite your husband in so we can tell him together?”

My chest tightened.

“No,” I said quickly. “Let me tell him myself. It’ll be more… special.”

I stood up, legs heavy, sweat forming under my armpits despite the cold AC.

As I walked into the reception, Uche jumped up.

“Baby, how far?”

I nodded and whispered, “Let’s go.”

In the car, I looked straight ahead. My palms were moist.

Then he said it — the thing I had dreaded most.

“So? Tell me the good news now,” he said, smiling like a child waiting for his birthday cake.

I looked at him. That smile. That man. That husband.

I whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

He screamed. Like really screamed. He punched the steering wheel with joy.

“JESUS! JESUS! EH! Baba GOD!!” He opened the car door and ran around the vehicle in the parking lot like he had just won N50 million.

I smiled — but my smile was rotten.

He hugged me so tightly, I almost cried. Not from joy, but from the weight of my betrayal.

That night, our house became a celebration zone. Uche ordered fried rice and chicken. He called his mother, his father, his sisters. He even posted *“My testimony is loading...”* on Facebook with a baby emoji.

Chidi, meanwhile, stayed locked in the room all night. He didn’t eat, didn’t talk. I could feel his silence screaming at me from across the wall.

At midnight, when Uche finally slept, I tiptoed to Chidi’s door and knocked.

He opened. Shirtless. Eyes red.

“You told him?” he asked.

I nodded.

He said, “You go born this pikin and call am Uche’s name?”

“What choice do I have?” I snapped. “You want to tell him it’s yours? You want to ruin your brother’s life?”

He looked at me, then spat on the floor beside me. “You dey craze. You think I go keep quiet forever?”

I froze.

“You go just use me dump?” he continued. “You think say I no get sense? You carry my blood, my child… then you go dey form happy wife for man wey no touch you?”

I tried to keep my voice down. “Chidi, please. You want to destroy everything?”

He chuckled. “Everything already don spoil. I go tell am. Just dey wait.”

“Chidi…” I whispered.

He stepped forward, looked into my eyes.

“If you try hide this pikin from me, if you let them carry my child go church, name am after Uche, take family photo… I go burst everything. Facebook, WhatsApp, village group — I go scatter your life.”

Then he slammed the door in my face.

I returned to my room shaking.

I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

And now, the person I trusted to keep the secret…

Was ready to burn me to ashes.

But I wasn’t ready to go down alone.

Not without a plan.

Because if Chidi wanted war — then I’d show him I wasn’t just a weak barren woman he could threaten.

Let him dare.

Let him open his mouth.

I had a backup plan. One that would silence him forever.

TO BE CONTINUE...
Please like, comment and share for episode 4

29/07/2025

WHY I LET MY HUSBAND'S BROTHER IMPREGNATE ME EPISODE 2

The first time it happened, I couldn't sleep for two nights. Not because I felt guilty — that would come later — but because I couldn’t believe I actually allowed it to happen.

Chidi didn’t sneak out like a thief that night. No. He left my room boldly, chest out, as if he had just marked territory. Meanwhile, I was still lying there on the edge of the bed, wrapper barely covering my shame. My thighs trembled, my heart beat fast like I was in a deliverance session. But instead of demons coming out, I felt something else enter me.

When I woke up the next morning, I expected the house to feel different — for the walls to start judging me, or the ceiling fan to start whispering “ashewo.” But nothing changed.

Chidi greeted me in the kitchen with his usual “Good morning, Aunty.” Same boyish grin. No shame. No regret. He even asked if I wanted plantain and egg. I ignored him and walked past him like he didn’t exist. But my knees still felt weak.

I thought it would end there — one foolish, emotional mistake. Something that could be erased with hot prayers, dry fasting, and one special anointing from MFM. But it didn’t.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

It was like something had possessed me. A combination of loneliness, frustration, and deep anger I had buried for years. I was angry at my womb for failing me, angry at Uche for giving up on us, and angry at God for letting me wait so long for something so natural.

Every time Uche traveled for work, Chidi came into my room. Sometimes he knocked, sometimes he didn’t. At one point, I stopped resisting. I even started waiting for him. We didn’t talk about it. No love, no promises. Just sweat, silence, and sin. And afterwards, we returned to normal like nothing happened.

But deep down, something was building. My body wasn’t the same. My breasts started swelling, ni***es sensitive. I was peeing every morning like a pregnant goat. Still, I kept quiet. My mind told me it was just stress or maybe fibroid — something not serious.

Then one day at work, I fainted.

They rushed me to the hospital. The nurse on duty did a quick test and smiled when I woke up.

“Madam, congratulations o,” she said.

I blinked. “For what?”

“You’re about six weeks pregnant.”

I froze.

Pregnant.

The word echoed through my head like gunshot. Six weeks. That was definitely *not* Uche’s timing. He hadn’t touched me in nearly three months.

My first thought wasn’t even joy. It was panic. Then confusion. Then fear.

Who would believe that I — Mrs. Amaka Nwankwo — respected wife of Uchenna Nwankwo, born-again member of women’s fellowship, government staff, and proud daughter of the Nworah family — had gotten pregnant for her husband’s younger brother?

I took the hospital card and lied to my boss that I had ulcer. I went home, locked myself inside the room and cried like someone that just lost both parents. But deep inside those tears was something else — a small, wicked flame of happiness. I was finally going to be a mother.

That night, Chidi came back from his usual hangout, reeking of beer and pepper soup. I didn’t wait for him to settle. I called him into the room.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

He stared at me like I was speaking Turkish.

“Preg... what?”

“Pregnant. Six weeks.”

He rubbed his face and sat on the bed. “You sure?”

“I went to the hospital.”

Silence.

Then, he started laughing. Not small laugh o — full blown, chest-slapping laugh.

I was shocked. “What’s funny?”

He said, “Aunty Amaka, so I fit born? Hey! Them dey call me ashawo for village but see me now — I don shoot goal!”

I slapped him. “Will you shut up?! This is not a joke!”

He rubbed his cheek and looked serious for once. “So what do we do now?”

I didn’t know.

Telling Uche was not an option. I knew my husband. He wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t fight. He would just pack his bags, disappear, and never speak to me again. I would be finished. My family’s name would be dragged in mud. My father might even disown me.

That night, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. I started thinking wicked thoughts. What if I told Uche it was his? After all, he used to touch me once in a while. Nobody would suspect. The pregnancy could pass as a miracle.

But something kept disturbing me — what if the child looks like Chidi? What if the baby has his exact nose, or that his strong jawline? Even babies can expose secrets.

Days turned into weeks. I kept pretending like nothing was happening. I hid the test card in the ceiling. I started taking folic acid in secret. I used pillow to cover my stomach when lying down.

Then, one morning, Uche returned from offshore.

He hugged me like he used to. Smiled, held my waist.

“My baby, you’re looking fresh,” he said.

I wanted to melt and vanish.

We sat down in the parlour. He opened his bag and brought out two baby rompers — one pink, one blue.

I stared at him.

“Uche, what is this?”

He smiled, “Babe, guess what? I went for a test... at the company hospital. They said I’m fine. My s***m count is good. The problem is not from me.”

My stomach turned.

“I even fasted and sowed seed again. This year must not pass us by.”

I wanted to scream.

This man, this man I betrayed, was busy praying and sowing seeds while I was busy getting laid by his brother. Guilt swallowed me whole.

I stood up and ran to the toilet to vomit.

Uche rushed after me. “Are you okay?!”

I wiped my mouth and smiled weakly. “Maybe malaria…”

He looked at me, suspicious. “We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.”

I nodded and hugged him. My mind was racing. I had less than 24 hours to come up with the biggest lie of my life.

TO BE CONTINUE.
Like, comment and Share for Episode 3

25/07/2025

WHY I LET MY HUSBAND'S BROTHER IMPREGNATE ME
EPISODE ONE

The first time I realised something was truly wrong with my womb was the day my period didn’t come for two months straight, yet the doctor said I wasn’t pregnant. Instead of joy, I left the hospital with a fresh prescription and a fresh wound in my heart.

You see, when I married Uchenna five years ago, I was that lucky girl everyone envied. He was the first son, working with an oil company in Port Harcourt, fine, tall, gentle, and the breadwinner for his whole family. I met him in Owerri when he came home for Christmas and by Easter we were already engaged. His mother danced like she had won jackpot.

The wedding was big. My father slaughtered three cows. People said, “Ego dị ya” — he has money. But no one warned me that money doesn’t buy children.

Two years into the marriage, no pregnancy. Three years, nothing. Four years, tears every month. My mother-in-law started visiting our house too often, dropping hints with her eyes. Once, she sprinkled holy water in our bedroom when Uche was at work. Another time, she gave me a special soap to ‘wash my waist.’ I did it all — prayers, fasting, bitter herbs, hospital tests, village prayers again. Nothing.

The shame ate me slowly. Neighbours started greeting me with pity. Aunties back home asked stupid questions on phone — “Any good news?” What good news? Even my own mother once whispered, “Are you sure Uchenna is not the problem?” But I couldn’t even think about that. He was my husband — my crown, my covering.

Uche never insulted me. He never called me barren or useless. But I could feel the distance. When we made love, it was silent, duty-like. Some nights he would roll over and pretend to snore, just to avoid my pleading eyes. I knew he was tired too.

Then came Chidi.

Chidi, my husband’s younger brother, was everything Uche wasn’t — loud, playful, reckless. He was the last born, the black sheep they said. He was always in and out of the village. He had a mechanic workshop in Nnewi but liked to come stay with us in Port Harcourt anytime he ‘needed to cool head.’

At first I didn’t like him around. He smoked w**d sometimes and drank Gulder straight from the bottle, leaving the cans in my sink. But he also had this charm — he could make anyone laugh. Whenever Uche travelled offshore for work, Chidi would stay up with me in the parlour, gisting about politics and football. He told me stories about his useless ex-girlfriends. I laughed too much for a married woman but what could I do? He made the house feel alive.

One rainy night, the light went off as usual. I was in the kitchen trying to boil water for tea with the gas stove when I heard Chidi’s voice behind me.

“Aunty, make I help you na,” he said, pulling up his wrapper, chest bare. I could smell alcohol but not too strong. I told him I was fine. He didn’t leave. Instead he pulled a stool and sat beside the kitchen sink, talking about how his friend’s wife just gave birth to twins.

Twins. That word burned my ears.

I tried to smile but tears betrayed me. He paused and looked at me properly. “Aunty, why you dey cry?” he asked, softer now.

I wiped my face quickly. “It’s nothing. Go and sleep, biko.”

But he stood up and pulled me gently into his chest. “No vex. I know say mummy dey disturb you. Na God dey do all these things.”

I wanted to pull away but his arms were warm and strong. The house was too quiet, the rain too loud, the air too heavy.

I don’t know how long I stood there but I felt something shift. His hand brushed my back, then lower. I pulled back and slapped him, not too hard. He smiled a foolish smile and left the kitchen. I should have told Uche. I should have told him that same night. But I didn’t.

The next morning, Chidi acted normal. He even greeted me with ‘Good morning, Aunty’ as if nothing happened. I convinced myself it was the beer.

But my dreams were restless. When Uche came back that week, I tried to hold him close in bed. He turned me gently and whispered, “Let’s try next time. I’m tired.” That ‘next time’ never came.

Days passed. Chidi stayed. One afternoon, I was washing clothes at the backyard when he came out shirtless again, pouring water on himself like he owned the place. He called me ‘beautiful Aunty’ and winked. I pretended to hiss but my stomach turned in a strange way I couldn’t explain.

Something about being noticed again made my body remember it was still alive. Uche had not touched me in two months. He didn’t even see me as a woman anymore. But Chidi did — or at least he made me feel so.

I should have sent him back to the village that week. I should have called his mother. But I didn’t. Because some nights, when Uche was offshore, I stayed awake, imagining… things I shouldn’t imagine.

I prayed it away. I used holy oil. I did midnight prayers. Yet the thoughts stayed. One night, it wasn’t raining. The house was silent. Chidi knocked on my door to ‘ask for matchstick’. I opened the door, foolishly. He was wearing only boxers. I should have shut the door immediately — but my feet froze.

He stepped in. No words. Just breathing. He looked at me the way Uche used to look at me five years ago when he undressed me on our wedding night.

I should have run. But my feet stayed.

That was how it started — one stupid, sinful moment. A moment that would grow into the biggest secret of my life. The moment that would bring a child I desperately wanted — but from the wrong man.

Like, coment and share for Episode Two

11/07/2025

THE GOAT THAT BROUGHT SILENCE
A Heart-Touching African Tale of Family, Ego & Betrayal

Once in a quiet African village, there lived two brothers. Obinna and Chijioke, Born of the same mother, they were as close as twins. They shared everything: food, laughter, secrets, and even suffering.

But as they grew older, life dealt them different hands. Obinna, the elder, remained in the village, farming the land and caring for their aging mother. Chijioke, the younger, left for the city with nothing but dreams.

Years passed.

One day, Chijioke returned in a convoy of cars, wearing gold chains and shoes that shone like mirrors. He came with loud music, proud steps, and a bag of money. The villagers rushed out. Everyone celebrated.

Obinna stood quietly, with dirt-stained hands and sun-darkened skin. His heart was happy for his brother—but something inside him felt uneasy.

At night, over a small fire, their mother said,
“Chijioke, your brother stayed behind to take care of me. You owe him more than money. You owe him love and respect.”

But Chijioke laughed.
“Respect? For a farmer? He should be thankful I brought him something.”
He threw a bundle of cash at Obinna’s feet.

Obinna said nothing.

The next morning, Chijioke woke to find the money on his bed—and his brother gone.

Months passed. One day, news came: their mother was very sick. Chijioke rushed back, only to find she had passed. The villagers whispered:
“She called Obinna with her last breath… but he didn’t come.”

Chijioke was confused. He searched for his brother and finally found him, living humbly in the hills.

“Why didn’t you come home?” Chijioke asked with tears.

Obinna looked at him and said,
“You broke something that money cannot fix. You stepped on love with your ego, and now you cry for what your pride buried.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Chijioke with silence heavier than gold.

Before their mother died, she left a message:
"A goat that forgets its roots may return with a full stomach, but no one to share the meat with.

Moral lesson.
Family is not tested by success but by humility. Ego can destroy what money cannot replace.

Have you ever seen ego tear a family apart? Let’s talk about it in the comments.👇🏾

09/07/2025

📌

07/07/2025

I second him! 😂

African Tales by Kandey

07/07/2025

I got over 4,000 reactions on my posts last week! Thanks everyone for your support! 🎉

07/07/2025

A writer is needed for a blog.
He or she must have experience in SEO.
Comment if you are interested for further discussion.

06/07/2025

People can't destroy what they don't know.

African Tales by Kandey

African Tales by Kandey

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