When it's Father's Day
- Shiko Kariuki
- Jun 22, 2020
- 3 min read
'Put your hands together and close your eyes; Our Father in Heaven... and that is how you pray'. One of the many fond memories I have of my old man. My father. Our dad.
My childhood was adventurous. We didn't have fame and fortune. But we had love, laughter, and a sense of wander.
My father who we fondly referred to as 'baba' in my dialect was a disciplinarian. However, he seemed to find a balance between the fun and the not-so-fun.
As a teacher, my father was very big on education and getting good grades. This he did not compromise. He drilled on us the importance of education. While some of the children went for the after school nap, myself and my siblings would have a mini transition to the other school. This was where my dad taught us and other kids from the neighborhood. As a young girl growing up in the rural Kenya, I would always shine in my grades, and I was would get recognition for it. Thanks to my father.
During the weekends, my father would teach us a thing or two about gardening and farming. There I learnt to get my hands dirty and work on the land. We did primary and secondary farming which involved growing plants for food and commercial purposes. We would help with picking coffee beans and other farm produce such as maize (corn). A portion of the money from the harvest would go to our 'piggy banks' as savings. The money would later be used for travel and end of year treats.
My father loved to embarrass me. Both in school and among my peers. As my teacher, I didn't look forward to his lessons for he would always put me on the spot to answer questions. He did not expect any less of me. He knew I was brilliant and needed me to believe it.
My father wasn't very traveled but knew the world like the tip of his fingers. I remember memorizing the different countries in the world and their capital cities. My father was well read. And he taught us that a man who reads taps into the imagination like a man who travels. Today, reading is one of my well ingrained habits.
My father loved to explore. He would get us in a 'matatu' equivalent to a mini-bus and take us to different parts of the city. There he would explain the different buildings and their purpose. He would take us to the museum and explain the history of our origin. He would take us to the zoo and let us feed the giraffes and watch the gorillas play tricks on us all day.
My father was a man of the people. I do not remember a day where we were not entertaining visitors. He brought our families together. We played together. Ate together. Danced together. Slept together. Laughed and even cried together.
I could write without end on who my father was. As a grown woman as I reflect, I can now see who my father is. A grandfather. A great uncle. And none of those roles he once embraced so effortlessly have changed. He brings joy to everyone he meets. He laughs with no limits. He gives with no bounds.
The young man who I watched jogging around the block in his track suits now walks around the block. The only difference is that he is even more present, bringing others with him who may not have been fortunate enough to have a father like him.
Happy Fathers Day to the best dad in the world aka my father Kariuki. I am because you are.
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