I am my father’s daughter- Happy father’s day

The year was 2000. The location was Moi University Eldoret. Finally, I was given the power to “read” by President Moi. Yes, the millennium found me here, an adult. That is not the point… but the people in this photo. Mum and Dad. My dear parents. But more so, my dad, on this fathers’ day.

I recall vividly attending the morning Mass at the Moi Main campus. It was such a joy to be back even for a few days to fellowship with the Catholic Students’ Association (CSA) community which had been my part-time engagement while on campus (I did 40% CSA, 40% University choir then education and the rest… took the other percentage. True story. There are some witnesses who had this same schedule).  I also knew that there was still time before my ‘clan’ landed from Mang’u, so I went for the morning mass.  Then I saw my sister come into the hall, then some other relatives. I could scarcely believe my eyes. The morning mass would take about 30 minutes, so this was earlier than 7.30 am. They had already arrived to witness the big day. It has remained a memorable recollection in our family, demonstrating how my dad used to keep time. They were woken up at night, or rather just before they slept, because “we are going to get late”. I don’t recall hearing how other relatives were mobilised, but I know most of them slept in our house since they knew that if they were late, they would be left behind. That was my dad. My dear dad. He was a timekeeper. He imparted many values to his children and has left a great legacy.

I recall during his funeral service after the tributes, a (former) colleague who was speaking on behalf of the organisation indicated that the values she had heard mentioned about my dad were the values she witnessed in me. Other colleagues who worked with my siblings said something similar. While I knew that he had imparted many values in my life, it was only during his demise that it struck me that there were more values I held dear that I learned from him and did not think much about.

On this Father’s Day, I am reminded that I am my father’s daughter. He may have left us physically for two and half years now, but his legacy lives on. On this day, I remember how he shaped my life, and indeed, as one of his sisters/my auntie said, “They made a great team”. Mum and Dad. They made a great team. Today, I remember fondly and a bit sadly that I can no longer call him and hear him say, “You are the second one to wish my Father’s Day”. For some reason, he valued phone calls on Father’s Day. As much as we called him regularly, Father’s Day was special. I hope he can hear my phone call today, telling him Happy Father’s Day in heaven. I hope he can hear me recall how much he imparted values in my life and left a great legacy.

Punctuality is important in my life. We may not share all the values as a family, but this one! I recall that even during the funeral services for Mum and Dad, some friends commented later how the program ran precisely on time.  During Dad’s requiem mass, the officiating priest was late and found the whole compound full, people waiting impatiently, and he commented about the impatience. I subtly indicated that Dad kept time, and we kept time. There is a popular saying in Kenya about the “African time”, but he taught us not to buy into that belief. I get impatient with “let us say 7.00 so people can arrive at 8.00” because I am my father’s daughter.

He paid his debts on time. I find that I get agitated if I have a payment I have not made. Recently, I explained to someone who provides services for us here in Cairo why I need him to send the bills promptly so I can pay every week as agreed. He does not understand the big deal: “I know you will pay later. It is fine”. I told him about my dad. That debts are paid promptly. I usually feel like there is a burden hanging over my head if I have unpaid bills, they feel like a debt. Growing up, we used to have a credit facility at the local shop. This is where we would pick items for the whole month, and at the end of the month, Dad would pay. I did not understand why he would give one money to pay for the debt and immediately start a fresh list of buying on credit. As a kid, I wondered why not just use the money to buy what was needed; it felt better to actually pay in cash than to “carry on credit”. But no, pay the debt first. That never made sense to me until recently.  I try to always pay what is due because I am my father’s daughter.

I am a student of lifelong learning. I buy more books than I can read. Someone put a perspective on it recently: “Well, that is a retirement package”. I do not read as much as I intend to necessarily, but the intention is there :). When I moved to Cairo, I easily discarded, sold and gave out a lot of stuff. But the books. While I can give away books occasionally for charity, my books are priceless. Part of the stuff that was shipped later to me was boxes of books. Dad loved education and wished for us to get an education. He sacrificed a lot for education on his meagre wages. I recall the many journeys he made to schools to ensure he put a word on when he would pay the school fees balance. He took great pride in seeing us finish school; the graduation ceremonies were important. I am glad I got an education to the highest level I could. He did his part in ensuring we got an education without caring if one was male or female. Many may have thought (and some commented) that he was wasting money on education, especially education for girls. But he kept on. I got an education and developed a love for lifelong learning because I am my father’s daughter.

Dad had a great faith in God and tried his best to impart the Catholic and Biblical teachings to us. He hated it when someone lied, and one knew they could be forgiven for telling the truth. Swearing was not to be done in our home. I recall when we would be playing outside the house. I recall when he would be napping because he worked the night shift and then travelled to the village, but then he woke up to reprimand whoever was swearing. It seemed normal to say, “I swear to God I didn’t do that” while playing. He made it clear that the Bible teaches not to call the name of God in vain.

When I wonder why my son wants me to “bring something” for him when I have travelled or when we get to the supermarket, I recall Dad bringing us bread. He worked in Thika and came home over the weekends. He always brought bread for us. This may not make sense to the current generation, but wheat products were precious and rare. I am sure it cost him a lot compared to his wages to buy us bread. But he did. There was a time when I struggled between giving a treat to children and spoiling them. Remembering the bread my dad brought for us helped me put this into perspective. We appreciated having bread; some cousins even visited around the weekend, hoping to get a slice.

Dad’s commitment to providing for his family was impressive. He did not have much, but we never felt we were lacking. Deep down, knowing he was trying his level best made all the difference. He was organised and planned for the rainy (or mostly not rainy) day. I recall a famine in Kenya in 1984. Many families went hungry, but we never did. He bought (most likely on credit) a bundle of yellow maize flour (cheaper and not liked in Kenya as it was seen as famine relief) and a bundle of white flour that we would mix. We could not go hungry; at least, we were assured of porridge and ugali.

I knew Dad cared for our mum. I recall Mum started taking medication many years ago for HBP, and this was not easily available. We knew Dad bought medicine for Mum from Thika, and whatever the circumstances, these never lacked. When I told him I wanted to pay for him to go to the Israel pilgrimage, I had imagined he would love that. Later, he changed his mind and indicated he could not leave Mum alone for that long. While I don’t know if other contributing factors contributed to this hesitation, I know he cared. When he was sick in the hospital, he would still ask about his mum and who was taking care of her.

Dear Dad, thank you for being there for us and for having been there for me. I never wondered if you cared because I experienced it. You were present in our lives; with ten children, one could think of an excuse not to be there for his family. But you were there—through thick and thin. On this Father’s Day, I miss you. Keep resting in peace.

Thanks for being a dad to me and for us. You were a grandfather to our children, whom you spoilt, and we saw another side of you, playful and easy. Keep resting in peace. I love you, and I am grateful for all that you were for me. I am grateful that I am your daughter.

Happy blissful, heavenly Father’s Day!