— An Nhyira FM Obra Show Exclusive, With a Twist of Apotoyewa Wisdom.

KUMASI — The baby has arrived, but the father is still stuck in traffic. Or so it seems.

In a plot thicker than Auntie Mansa’s jollof at a funeral, the search for the true father of a teenager’s bouncing baby has twisted yet again — this time, clearing the initial suspect, Isaac Addae, whose DNA test returned negative faster than a boyfriend being asked about his Mobile Money balance.

This ongoing drama, delivered fresh on the Obra Show this past Friday, has gripped the nation tighter than a new wrapper on a harmattan morning. Ghana’s WhatsApp aunties, Facebook philosophers, and Twitter truth commission have all convened in the court of public opinion — and business is booming.

It all began when Esi Nyamekye, the mother of the teenage mother (yes, the lineage is as tangled as old extension cords), accused young Isaac of being the baby’s father. Isaac, reportedly blindsided and backed by his family of budget-conscious philosophers, denied paternity with a “one corner” excuse: “It was just one time.” Apparently, one time too many.
But science, that unforgiving elder, spoke — and Isaac was ruled out. DNA doesn’t lie, unless of course, it’s being cross-examined in a local barbershop debate.
Now here’s where it gets juicier than mango season in Mampong.

After initially proclaiming she was untouched like pure white calico on Easter Sunday, the girl later revised her gospel. “Well… actually, there were three other gentlemen: Martin, Jeremiah, and Frank Owusu.” You could hear jaws dropping from Suame to Santasi.

Each man appeared on the Obra Show, adjusting their voices and memories like schoolboys before a PTA meeting.

Martin, with the passion of a preacher and the caution of a porcupine, confessed: “She said she was a virgin. Midway through, she cried. I panicked and stopped. I didn’t come. I can’t be the father.” A performance so confusing, even the ancestors in the room were scratching their heads.

Jeremiah, the apparent sugar-daddy-in-waiting, received gentle praise from the girl herself. “I was already pregnant when I met him. He was good to me, so I didn’t say anything.” Indeed, Ghanaian proverb says: “He who feeds a child must not ask whose child it is” — but in this case, even Jeremiah has asked for a receipt.

Frank Owusu, meanwhile, arrived with a calendar, a scan, and more confidence than a lotto winner. “She said she was pregnant two weeks after we met. The scan showed she was already one month and two weeks in. I checked the math — I’m innocent.” Frank’s alibi was tighter than a tailor-made agbada.

So far, only Isaac has been officially ruled out. The rest await DNA results, while the public awaits answers, popcorn in hand.
But as the Akans say, “When the drum beats, the story is not over”. With all these twisty revelations, some are now asking: could there be a mysterious fifth man? Or perhaps, are we dealing with a case of immaculate deception?

Social commentators have weighed in: “This issue is bigger than just paternity. It’s about sexual education, responsibility, and honesty,” one moralist remarked, while stirring his nkontomire stew. Another said, “In our time, pregnancy came with a name, a timeline, and a funeral list. Now, it comes with DNA tests and reality radio.”

As we await the next DNA results with bated breath and bated kenkey, one thing is clear: this is not just a story about a child’s father. It is a saga about growing up too fast in a world that’s spinning faster than a trotro wheel on Kejetia Road.
Let the DNA dance continue — and may the real father please stand up (with his test results in hand and his Mobile Money account verified).

Until then, we say: “If you don’t know whose child it is, don’t call the village elders — call the lab technician.”
Stay tuned. Same time. Same station. Same paternity puzzle.