My first example of a wonderful father is my very own father. Mr. Peter Mwaura Kamuiru. Who would I be without this man? Nobody. He is the reason I am, literally (I suppose) and because of the person he has moulded me into. My father, the man that came home every single night by 8pm so we could have a family dinner despite working in a different province from where we lived. The man who would leave home at 3 am so he would get to work in good time because he could not fathom the idea of renting a house away from his family. My father, the man who taught us that honesty was the most important virtue and because of whom I am still so terrified of telling a fib today. My father, the disciplinarian. My siblings will tell you that his final pressing on the accelerator; that final “vroom!” before he turned off the vehicle not only signaled his arrival, but was a sign for us to run out and meet him. On those days that you had “sinned” that signal also meant that you run out of the house and “confess your sins” before he got into the house and someone else reported your mistakes. This was the rule. I think about it now and think how ridiculous he must have found us running to embrace him, sometimes with tears in our eyes and our lips heavy with our transgressions. My father, the reason my siblings and I can speak the Queen’s language because during every school holiday when we were really young, he would enforce “monto(SP)” and my eldest sister was in charge of noting down how many times any one of us spoke in Kikuyu. My father the man who bought us a book at every birthday. Even if you asked for something special on your special day, it was always accompanied by a book.
My father the man that taught us how to speak up; believing that family “Kamukunjis (as we would call them)” were not about parents drilling rules into their children, but an avenue for children to also share their feelings. My father, the man that taught us that women can do anything a man can do and who empowered my sisters and I. My father, the man who has taught me that your children will be different and it is in learning who they are and accepting their different personalities that you begin to do right by them as a parent. My father, the man that has always encouraged open dialogue citing that even the scariest of things can be dealt with if only we put fear aside and talk to him about it.
You cannot begin to imagine how much he means to me, this man; my father.
The man holding my hand is my father 🙂
I watch Mwangi with Kamau and thank God for the blessing of bearing a child with a man that cares so much about being a part of his son’s life. I watch them as they play those games that make my heart threaten to stop, with Kamau giggling in glee, and even as Mwangi sits Kamau down for a serious talk to explain occasions that warrant a spanking. I watch him inspect the windows in Kamau’s room during bedtime to ensure they are locked. I hear him when he wakes up in the middle of the night to go and check on Kamau and on the nights he will sooth him back to sleep when he wakes up for whatever reason. I watch concern etched on his face when Kamau is unwell and listen as he asks the paediatrician a gazillion questions because he wants to be certain that she checked everything and that he knows everything that’s going on. I watch him buy Kamau something he thinks he’ll like, not because there’s a special occasion, but just because he thinks it will make Kamau happy. I listen to him speak about Kamau in the future, making plans about how he will take care of a vehicle Kamau may drive or an apartment he may live in as he goes to College. I listen to him as he wonders aloud what kind of a person Kamau will be. I have this beautiful memory of us standing in a light fixture store in Westlands when I was heavily pregnant. The shop attendant pointed out these beautiful, dangling lights that are supposed to hang over the island area in the kitchen. R said he wouldn’t buy them lest Kamau try and swing on them someday and end up hurting himself. I have never forgotten that remark. It is the mark of the kind of father that he is.
For every occasion he offers to take Kamau to bed, each time he watches him so I may put my feet up or feeds him so I may take a break. For each time he calls me at work to ask if I have called home to find out how Kamau is doing and on those days he will leave for work after Kamau has gone to school just to make sure he administered Kamau’s medication as opposed to having the nanny do it. For every investment he makes with Kamau’s future in mind. For every dream he has for Kamau. I couldn’t have been blessed with a better man to be the father of my children.
I salute every father that has resolved to be present in his child’s life. Every father that is making sacrifices to provide for his children and give them the best life he can offer them. To the single fathers that society so rarely acknowledges, but who are doing a wonderful job by their children. I salute each one of you this Father’s Day. Often we sing praises for our mothers and forget about you, but this Father’s Day we want you all to know that we appreciate you too. For the fathers that have left us; you live with us and in us still.
Happy Father’s Day (June 15, 2014).
xoxo!
Raising Kamau! 