Why I stopped judging

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She was a beautiful, elegant and attractive young lady. She had the features every girl dreamt of having someday; she was tall, had full hips, a tiny waist, beautiful legs, a long neck, high cheekbones and a good complexion. 

The topping on the icing was the fact that she was rich. She lacked nothing; she wore expensive clothes carried designer bags and drove a brand new car. She had a luxury boutique right in her compound and so hardly ever had to leave her home except she was travelling. 

She was a snob and so picked and chose who she spoke to. She was arrogant and did not care how she made people feel by her words or actions. 

 Human beings are interesting because you would think that people would not want to be associated with her yet a lot of women did all they could to be identified with her. A few who never wanted to associate with her were only careful not to let her close to their husbands. 

Rumour had it that she was made to leave her husband's over allegations of infidelity but no one could say for sure. There were also speculations that one of her many children was fathered by her ex-husband’s friend. 

Some said she was a snob to avoid opening up to anyone about her circumstances. She was shrouded in mystery, she kept to herself, never visited anyone but always had carefully selected friends vist her occasionally. These were very rich ladies; rich by marriage and they were acquainted with this interesting lady because she taught them high-class fashion and living: they wanted to belong. 

A luxurious car parked outside her home almost every night and yet again rumour had it yet again that the owner of the car was a prominent man who could only visit her in the dead of the night so he could hide his identity; he was married of course. 

It was not long before neighbours uncovered him could be through his driver who sat in the car with the engine running throughout his boss's visit to his lover. They even talked about the meaning they heard whenever the man was around and they said he had to be taking something because it lasted for over an hour non-stop just short intervals. 

People looked at that child believed to have been fathered by a different man from his siblings with pity like he was an outcast but to everyone’s surprise, he thrived. It could have been as a result of the love his mother lavished on him. 

She treated him like he was truly special and spared nothing to make him comfortable. 

You could accuse Agbomma of anything but not being a bad parent. She raised them to be confident even though she spoilt them rotten; they were arrogant like her but kinder than her. 

People who believed that the special child they termed illegal would amount to nothing watched him grow and soar while their legal children struggled to survive. Before that “illegal child” Nwachukwu turned thirty-five, he’d bought his mother a home, at which time he had gotten married and had beautiful children. The naysayers still struggled and some even wish the illegal child was their own. 

I stopped judging a long time ago, because things are never how they seem.  The recent story of a lady who had a child for another man made the rounds and she ignorantly tried to justify her stupidity. My advice to her is; be like Agbomma, own your mistake, don’t try to justify it, shut up and focus on giving that child who could be made to pay for your mistakes the best that you can give, loads of love and attention, make restitution for sins and mistakes made and focus on a better tomorrow for the innocent children caught up in the mix,  relying on God's grace. 

It is not right but who are we to judge? I'm sorry for her to have made such a silly mistake but her lack of wit is appalling. 

*All names used are fictitious for the sake of privacy*