By Bunmi Sofola

WOULD you tell your best friend that her husband was having an affair? Would you keep a promise even if it meant lying to someone you loved? At some point, everyone has to face impossible situations —moral dilemmas where there is no clear right or wrong.

And, even worse, you have to live with your decision for ever. Like Keyi did, she’d lived a sheltered life and got married to her childhood sweetheart. Then she found out that her best friend’s husband was having an affair.

She agonised on whether or not to tell her. “I keep thinking that if only I hadn’t seen them together, I would never have been forced to make the decision I made and things wouldn’t have ended up in such a terrible mess,” she said sadly. “Not that I think Adaeze’s marriage would have lasted—she would have found out eventually.

But at least I wouldn’t have ended up in such a terrible mess and made to feel that the whole thing—the affair that almost shook their marriage’s foundation and the hurt—was all my fault. Ada and I have been friends since we were five years old. We went to the same primary and secondary schools; we practically lived in each other’s houses in our teens.

I would never have believed that anything could destroy our friendship. Just thinking about it still really upsets me. What worries me most is that it has made me feel bad about myself. There have been moments when I have even doubted my own motives in telling her what everyone else had known for ages—that her husband Jide—was a chronic womaniser.

“As things are now, no one else seems to understand why I did it either. My husband, Gbade is also a friend of Jide and Ada and he thinks I was crazy. Jide and Ada had been married for over nine years and always seemed to get on well together. I could tell that my friend was happy—she never would have looked at anyone else. They’d both spent some time with us the night before I found out. There was no hint of any tension between them. Ada even told me she’d successfully had an operation to enable her get pregnant again. Their only child was seven years old.

“The next day, I’d gone out early in the evening to get a few of the things I needed for the house before I joined Gbade at the club. As I left the car park I saw Jide and this other woman. I just looked up and there they were. They didn’t see me but I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. I didn’t want it to be true; I kept thinking I’d made a mistake.

But it was Jide all right, with his arm around the waist of a woman with well-groomed extensions. She looked quite attractive and about the same age as Ada and I. The way they looked at each other left me in no doubt that they were more than just friends.

“I was really shocked. You know that it happens all the time but it’s still a shock when it’s someone you think you know well. As soon as I got to the club, I told my husband. It was then I had my second shock. He already knew; and so did most of our other friends. I was furious. My first instinct had been to discuss it with Gbade, not knowing he had been hiding it. I really felt for my friend. Imagine everyone knowing that your husband was having an affair except you. And laughing at you! They probably weren’t, but I’m sure that’s how you would feel.

“When I asked my husband what we were going to do, he looked at me as if I were nuts. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. There’s nothing we can do. It’s none of our business.” I couldn’t believe he could be so callous. His view was that either the affair would burn itself out, so she need never know, or that Jide would tell her himself when the time was right. I didn’t sleep well for a few nights. How could I let this go on without telling my best friend? There she was, happily hoping for a second baby, living in a dream-world where husbands were loyal and didn’t lie to you. Was it really so cruel to shatter her fantasies by telling her? She might hate me for a while, but I know she’d do the same thing in my place—after all—we were best friends.

“But each time I mentioned it to my husband, he said, I was mad to even consider telling her. He said I was poking my nose in where it didn’t belong, and that neither Jide nor Ada would thank me for it. He ‘also hinted that he thought there was a bit of female rivalry involved, since once, many years ago, I’d had a fling with Jide. I felt that was totally unfair.

I tried to be honest with myself and examine my motives for feeling that I ought to tell Ada what was happening. Then I became convinced I had to do it. The bottom line was that I knew I would want to be told if it were Gbade. So, I rang her and arranged to meet with her for a meal. How do you put something like that tactfully. I just took a deep breath and told her what I’d seen and that I had reason to believe that her husband was having an affair….

“For a moment, she looked at me disbelievingly, and then tried desperately to reassure herself, saying she was sure that there was an innocent explanation, that her husband wasn’t the type—all the usual things people say to kid themselves, their partners are faithful. When I told her there could be no doubt, and that my husband knew too, her attitude changed completely. She became very angry and shouted: ‘So what are you then?’ Some kind of a detective? Just f *** off and mind your own business from now on.’

“She phoned and apologised a few days later. Said she’d gone home that day and confronted Jide. He had admitted to the affair, and they were trying to decide where to go from there. She sounded utterly depressed, but refused we should meet to talk about it. There was a kind of guardedness in her voice, as though I was an enemy she’d only just discovered.

“Later, I began to hear from mutual friend, that she was talking about what happened— but she was not telling me. Her husband was apparently furious that I’d interfered and ray husband took his side. I knew how Judas must have felt all those centuries ago. Three years on, Jide and Ada are still struggling to make the most of their marriage.

As luck would have it, last year, they had their longed-for child—another girl. I rarely see my friend; when I do, it’s always me that makes the first move to meet. We have polite, stilted conversations. It’s really pointless. I may as well give up because it certainly doesn’t make me feel any less guilty about her. In fact, it makes it worse. I get very upset as I still don’t know if I did the wrong thing. If it happened again, I know I’d react differently.”