I celebrate you everyday dad.

Dad, you may never fully comprehend the joy you have given me in my life. I have had a father, a dad, a best friend and a confidant. You have always noticed when I had tears in my eyes and sorrow in my voice, and with that realization, you did everything in your power to make me smile. They always called me your favorite, but they were wrong, you never played favorites, you love us all equally! You are my hero, my best friend and my inspiration.

Life is all about love

I may not have the most accurate perception of a father for some, due to differences in societal upbringing, but I do have the best. I took a moment to look back to at the defining moments in my life transition with my dad. These moments have defined for me what fatherhood entails. Cheers to the man who made all this possible.

A fathers love once felt can’t be extinguished

Being there for your children when they need you the most, providing for them even when it puts a strain and smiling when they are happy seems like an easy job but its more complicated. He has always strained to ensure he puts a smile on his family’s face in all circumstances. I can’t recall a day dad put us second when we needed him.

Last year, around December, I fell terribly ill. When I went home, I had lost weight, my clothes no longer fit, it was too emotional. He asked my brothers to make a bed in the spare room next to his bedroom so that he could watch over me. At night, he would call my name just to make sure I was still breathing. In the morning before he left for work, he made me drink warm water, as he stirred porridge in the kitchen, which he would encourage me to drink until I finished a cup before sending me back to bed. He would constantly call to ensure I had taken my meds eaten. Long story short, despite having a busy schedule, he made room for me to ensure I felt loved and cared for. At times being put first enough to put us back on our feet.

Disciplining a child is not all about beating it into them. I do not recall a day my father laid a hand on us. We learnt to respect him rather than fear him. He chose a different way to discipline us and it worked all right. I listened more every time he spoke because I noticed he taught more with his words than the rod.
I was a very notorious child growing up, mischief was my companion. My favorite adventure in lower primary was truancy. This day, my dad drives by our neighborhood and am sitted, with my younger brother, who had joined me in my adventure during class hours to go chew sugarcane. He drove by, but I knew he had seen us. Later that evening, he came home with this serious cane, but he never hit me. He instead gave me a serious lecture on the value of education and threatened to use it next time.

Dad, how you care never ceases to amaze me

It’s easy for children to pick up habits from parents as they grow up, these habits can either be positive or negative. Dad is very compassionate, he sees the best in the worst of us and channels his energy into bringing out the best version of a person. He does not hold back when giving, and if there is one trait that has rubbed off on us, it is joyful giving., and contentment.

One night as we roamed in town with my younger brothers, we came across a distraught mum with her children in the cold. She said she was lost and hadn’t eaten. I remember my dad watching us as my siblings handed the crying children the reminder of the snacks we were eating and our jackets. We didn’t need to know each other to help, it was the right thing to do. Later that night, when we went home, dad asked us why we did it. The answer was obvious; we did what he would have done if he were in position. We did what we wanted someone else to do for us if we ever were in need.

One thing my father taught me, is that life is to short not to live and laugh. Life is too short to think twice before taking a risk. Life is too short to hold grudges. Life is too short to define love by tribe, color and status. While you can still breathe, live, love and laugh.

Family time is always a feast with dad

When my dad met my brother’s fiancée and my sister’s fiancé, different occasions of course. He did not need to know their tribe or financial background. All he asked was for them to ensure that their children loved and smiled. Happiness was all that mattered in the midst of this earthly confusion and complicated definition of what love was. Am still waiting for my official turn but am sure things will be the same.

Throwback to 2015… With his sons

A father shapes the behaviours of his son and gives his daughter guidance on just how a lady should be treated by her man. A father determines if his son will be abusive in his relationships or if his daughter will be too broken to walk away from a broken relationship.
Growing up, I have never witnessed my father lose his temper, degrade or fail to appreciate our efforts or ridicule our ideas. He has been supportive of decisions we have made correcting us when he felt we were going astray.

Encounters with my father in my transition from childhood to teenage hood and finally to adulthood have shown me that life isn’t really complete without a father’s love. We have so many memories together that wouldn’t be expressed easily on paper. Happy father’s day dad, I do not need a day to celebrate you, I celebrate you every day.
Without forgetting, for some of us, the father figures we had in life are our strong mothers, who either by choice or circumstance were forced to raise us alone and they did an amazing job. Bravo to all mothers out there who raised strong sons and daught ers on their own!!!


Little miss perfect

I always watched her from a distance, the little miss perfect.

Her smile; it lit up a room, it took the prowess of a stalker to realize the frown lines that accompanied the bubbly face.
Pretense; it was a game society had taught her perfectly, and she had perfected her skills you wouldn’t really realize her pain.
I watched the sparkle in her eyes, everyone commented on how bright it made her face look, but I noticed the glitters were from unshed tears she constantly kept in check. She would blush, a tingling rose would color her cheeks, then look down in nervousness. Her constant perfect-it shadow commended herself for her achievement but deep inside she ached to be freed from the cage that was her life.
I watched her from the shadows, the little miss perfect.

She had to please everyone she loved, even if she didn’t want to do it. Slim was the theme of the society. I watched her puke her meals to attain the perfect figure. Bad boys were the flavor of the year. As she skipped from one abusive relationship to another unfaithful lover, she sighed, but she had to keep up with appearances.
I saw the dreamy look in her eyes, as she tried to cover she slits that escaped with her wrists from her skimpy long sleeved dress. She wanted an out, but she had people to please. Her parents needed to notice her existence, the school needed to be proud of their valedictorian, the hood, alas, this was her perfect killer crowd, but still, who would like to hang out with a freak that didn’t have a boyfriend, that didn’t do drugs. Talk about stuck between a rock and a hard place!
I watched her from my countless anonymous social media pages, the little miss Imperfect.

She was spiraling down the route to her destruction. The road was spinning hard and fast. She had finally lost track of what was important to her. For now, it was important to be the perfect miss for all to see.
She strived to set the record straight, her selfies had to be epic, no one needed to know she cried in her bathtub before she went to sleep. She was famous for all the wrong reasons, it made her inner demons rejoice. Her soul cried in despair from torture, suppression and suffocation from the imposter.
I watched her from the mirror, the little miss unworthy.

Her name was shame, her name was worthless, she was never important, or so she thought. The society made her believe, it filled her mind with images that caused her distress. With her back hunched, she finally gave in to defeat, she was now a slave to societal perception, a follower of the crowd, a believer of their cheers and jeers, a doer of their unreasonable demands, a pleaser, an abomination.
The slits were now more visible; I could see the deep red sauce trickle down her bony arms. I saw her sad smile, and her jovial relief. The end was finally near. She recounted her journey.

The noose she tried in her head, but movies made it seem too painful, the uncontrolled discomfort as one struggled for their last breaths. No, it would make her realize the importance of oxygen, a complicated explanation she failed to comprehend in biology.
The pills she tried, but they took too long, she was found before she crossed the finish line…
In her blur, I watched her watch me, she tried to reach out, time was far gone.
I watched her from her hospital bed, the little miss perfect.

Her baby, they told her, her little boy, the one she once thought she couldn’t bear to raise, had stared at her bloody heap sprawled on the floor and cried for help. A result of intercourse she did not consent.
Deep inside, she condemned her environment. The society had almost orphaned her little prince. She made a resolve, one she had to grasp hard to, in the fear of slipping again.
No more drowning. She no longer strived to please, she would strive to love. She had learnt the hard Love herself. Love her flaws. Love her weaknesses. Damned be what society thinks!
If they loved her, they wouldnt mind her size and her scars. All those who judged were a reflection of the devil swaggering across the earth seeking to devour the naive. She was ready to worry about those, only, who worried for her.
I no longer stare at her, little miss perfect, I stare at you, little miss broken.

My name is survivor. I see you see me; I know you feel the caress of my whispers in your darkened soul. know I am in there somewhere. One day, when you decide to let me out, then I can save you from the pain, I can show you that you are love, you are strong.