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Lilian Face-to-Face with her Abandoned Albino Daughter
Lilian Faces up with her Albino Daughter
We stopped when Lillian had found her abandoned daughter Robinah. But with some questions to answer; how to tell her daughter (Robinah) that she was the real mother that abandoned her with Doloka? What about Walter whom she deceived that she had a miscarriage? What about her husband David and son Mack, for she had caused them…
“Hajji Ashraf, sometimes, when you see people driving big cars, with nice homes and fat bank accounts, never ask God to be like them, because many of them have very tough problems to solve. God might give them to you, too.
“For me, I had sleepless nights; a year and half passed before I could solve this problem.
“Robinah was now so close to me. I had built a new house for Doloka and left the old one intact. I did all this in a guise that I was thanking her for saving my son from imprisonment. I started a lawyer chambers for her, young as she was. With my influence, she started employing even senior lawyers. She went for holidays anywhere she wanted.
“My husband, David, and Mark, my son, were always happy for her and supportive. I thought that Robinah was really happy.
“In the second year since we met, I asked her what gift she wanted. She kept quiet for some time, looked straight into my eyes and said; ‘Mummy, you have done everything a child would need from her rich parents. Maybe that is why God made my mom abandon me in the forests of Kyaggwe. God wanted me to be happy like this. Now, that God is love, and forgiving. I have also today forgiven my mom. Mummy Lillian, for my birthday gift I ask you please, help me find my real family’.
“Haaa! Hajji Ashraf, that statement from my daughter is still ringing into my mind.
“We were seated at the dining table. Tears were about to betray me. So, I stood up walked to her, embraced her and affirmed that we shall find them.
“She thanked me and walked out. You know, it was now, routine, for her to come to my home, and have breakfast with me. I had bought a house for her near ours. It was around this same time that Mack was organizing his graduation party for his Masters degree. He wanted it at the Sheraton ballroom.
“I saw some chance here. I asked him to have it at Doloka’s. Mark laughed, and thought that I joking, but I was serious. We argued a bit. He said that I was going too far; that he had his own family, why was I holding his big party at a stranger’s house. He said that what I had done for Robinah was enough to thank her.
“He was about to walk out, when he saw tears rolling down my face. He had not seen this before. He looked at me closely and wondered; ‘Mummy you are crying? Why? Okay, I agree let’s do it as you wish’. My husband, David, never disturbed me. He accepted my wish straight away.
“I talked to Robinah and Doloka, who were welcoming, too. I organized this party myself. Mack gave up on me and just looked on what I was doing. I hired the best events’ organizers in town. I went to Doloka’s village and gave out the invitation cards myself. I went to churches and the mosque and invited them.
“I had earlier given Robinah money to build an altar for the Catholic Church. I had bought iron sheets for the Anglican Church and mats and paint for the Mosque. I was paying back for their generosity towards my daughter, but they thought it was Robinah doing it.
“I invited the late Bishop Misaeri Kawuma of Namirembe as the chief guest. I went to Walter’s office to invite him to my son’s party. His jealousy had not died away. I begged him and he accepted. I gave him a peck before I left. I saw that he was heart-broken, but I knew he would come for sure.
“Rumours went around the village that Robinah was going to introduce her fiancé; that the man, Mack, was disguising it as a graduation party; that he feared that people would say that he was going to marry an Albino. By that time, this village knew me as the woman who had adopted Robinah.
“That day there was a lot of food and drinks from tonto, sodas, to beer. Five cows, ten goats and many chicken had been slaughtered. It was a big feast.
“Walter came with two of his daughters, and not surprisingly, one was an Albino. I asked Robinah to sit him on the high table. Walter sat next to David. The function was well-organized and I saw Mack and his friends were happy. We had Segico Disco – the best.
“The tents were raised in front of the old house where had I left Robinah 27 years ago. I had a reason for doing that.
“Ha! Hajji Ashraf, the village was on fire. All Mark’s relatives were present. The speeches started and it was all praise for Mark, Robinah and Doloka and the village that provided for Robinah.
“Usually it is the graduate to speak last but I requested the Master of Ceremonies to call me last after Mark. When I stood up, I kept quiet for over a minute before I started talking. My quietness attracted a lot of attention. I had already talked to the bishop about it, the day before. He saw me breaking down and he came near me and held me by the shoulders. This got people to be more attentive than ever. I became firm, and I started:
“‘The year was 1975, when as a girl, I became pregnant by a young boy, Walter…’
“Hajji, I said it all, but I kept the name of that girl up to the end. The location was so quite that you could hear the fall of a needle. At the end of the story I said; ‘The woman I’m talking about is me. I’m the mother of Robinah and the father is that one there, Counsel Walter’.
“I was about to break down but the bishop held me firmly. And he started singing: Tumutendeze, Yesu. The whole congregation started singing with him. I saw excitement everywhere.
“Robinah, who was seated next to Mark, stood up and ran into the house – crying. Walter followed her calling her to come back. David came to me and held me firmly. Mark remained standing; he could not believe what was happening.
“Hajji, that is my story. Robinah was very welcomed into her family. Doloka died three years ago; and I’m happy with my David – very happy.”
At this point Lillian invited Robinah who was in the car to greet me, Hajji Ashraf.I was so happy for them, bambi. Thanks for reading Lillian’s story.
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