First Word 22

I sit in my office seat swinging from side to side, gazing beyond the window wondering what I can say about Fathers’ Day. Hmm… I want to be honest—as honest can be. and have no cliche in my presentation. I got it. Back to the good old days. Then. I was a happy girl, young, hot (or cool, as you may like).

‘My Dad is the boss in their office,’ a friend would tell us. ‘How do you know?’ We would ask. ‘I just know. The way he asks us to do this or that at home…and then of course, his wallet always has money in it’. ‘Oh mine too,’ our other friend would say. ‘And my Dad is VERY strong. Just give him anything to lift. I mean ANYTHING. He’ll do it so effortlessly.’ Not wanting to be left out of this flaunt mode. I would have my take. Actually, I never told you guys. My Dad used to be a president… but he got bored’. And we would go on and on.

Of course what we shared was mainly untrue—or should I say wishful thinking. As off as it may have been, I think we were all trying to express the amount of faith we had in our Dads. It was big faith. Now. as I look around, there are many fingers pointing to Dads in my world today, linking them to many ills; of whose details I will not get into.

Mums have won most of the accolades in the ‘World Family Championships’, years running. But when I slip into my childhood dress, I still see Dad in his magnified form. I see him quickly and skillfully fork out his breakfast and drain it with a powerful gulp. Of course now I know it was because another boss was keeping tabs on him. I see him talking to my teacher and meeting my school demands, from school fees to exercise books. I feel him whipping my hand hot after my naughty escapades, which I now attest as the best gift I got from him. He may not have been the Movie Star Dad I would sometimes covet, who would act like my peer: but it is now more than clear that his special African way of saying he loves me has been well received, and the affection and appreciation we have for each other is inexplicably profound.

Back to my house. I see my children ogling their Dad with the same adoration. And as much as I may not want to make him really aware about that, I must admit that even though he shows some clumsiness in the ’Ministry of Home Affairs’, he has been one fine gentleman who has broken his nails, stripped his ego, and jumped many guns to give us better tomorrows. Ursula Warui’s journal, ‘To my Wonderful Husband’ says it better. And Lucy Simiyu’s Upper Room column leaves no stone unturned. Then wait till you hear the Father’s themselves in the Mja Mzito and Been There columns…

Whoever said Fathers are as good as third legs, lost it somewhere along the way. Fathers, we are noting each and every effort you are making in the challenging role of leadership. And the least we can say is. YOU ARE THE GREATEST!

Happy Father’s Day!

JoyC

END: PG22/5