Let me start by saying this,
I am not pregnant. At least, not that I know of yet. But if you were to ask my aunt, she already knows not only that I’m pregnant, but also that the pregnancy is two weeks old. Imagine the confidence.
Here’s how it happened
A few days ago, I was in a playful mood. I made a bowl of mashed crackers in milk. Nothing unusual. But instead of captioning it plainly, I jokingly wrote, “pregnancy cravings.” It was just supposed to make my friends laugh. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Now, in all my innocence, I forgot that one particular aunt of mine had access to my WhatsApp status. And she’s the kind of woman who, for years, had mastered the fine art of minding her business. Because of this, I didn’t bother muting her from seeing my uploads. Well, apparently, she had just been saving her energy for the right moment to strike.
Instead of asking me directly or even sending one of those dramatic “Is there something you want to tell me?” texts, she went straight to my mom. Yes. Within minutes, my mother was on the phone, informed that her daughter was pregnant and even given a timeline. Two weeks, according to my aunt’s prophetic powers.
Next thing I knew, I had several missed calls from both of my parents. Wondering who died, I dialed my dad back. Worst mistake of my life. My dad, who doesn’t even care about the internet, suddenly wanted answers. And guess what? I’ve been summoned home for what might be the most awkward hospital trip of my life. A pregnancy test is waiting for me, thanks to one aunt who simply could not keep her discovery to herself.
Am I pissed? Absolutely.
Am I scared? Yes, because here’s the thing though(scratches head), I had unsafe sex last month(weeps) and now a joke has turned into a full-blown family investigation. I’m caught between laughing at how ridiculous this all is and crying at how African families can sometimes create mountains out of mere WhatsApp captions.
But here’s what I don’t understand:
Why are some aunties like this? Why do African aunties love to carry breaking news that nobody asked them to deliver? They move from hairstyles to body size to who you were seen talking to after church. They will analyze, report and the worst part is that they exaggerate. Privacy? Zero. Discretion? Negative.
Maybe the real pregnancy here is the way aunties incubate information until they can birth it at the most inconvenient time. And the worst part? They never stop to think about the emotional chaos they create in the process.
So yes, lessons learned. Next time I’m in my playful mood, my WhatsApp settings will be tighter than a pressure cooker lid. And as for aunties who can’t keep secrets? Maybe it’s time we start sending them their own medicine. Refrigerated ones like random updates about their own children they can’t confirm, just to keep them busy.
Until then, please wish me luck at the hospital. Not because I believe my aunt’s unsolicited prophecy, but because the thought of sitting between my parents while a nurse draws blood is enough to make me feel pregnant with regret.
