Every weekend afternoon, my father would sit on a woven seat on the front porch of the huge colonial house we lived in, a newspaper in his hands. Engrossed in the weekend papers, especially Mantalk by Oyunga Pala and Whispers by Wahome Mutahi. Through the French windows, I would watch him flip through the pages, nodding, smiling, and at times bursting out laughing, complete with a slap on the knee. A mere string of words on the newsprint would teleport him to a different universe. Fascinated, I would squeeze through a missing window pane in the floor-to-ceiling glass door, crawl, then sit by the steps next to his feet. He would move the newspaper aside, glance over his spectacles, take off the pages he had read, then hand them over to me.
Holding the humongous pages against the breeze was such a hassle. I would lie on my stomach, with both elbows pinning them down as I pored over them. The words were long, alien, and scary. I would beckon the old man to pronounce and explain what they meant. This would go on until about 3 p.m., when he would fold the newspapers, put them aside, then crank up the volume on the stereo. Les Wanyika, Oliver Mtukudzi, Madilu System, Lucky Dube, and other pan-African musicians would grace our Saturdays and our Sundays. Occasionally, he would get up and start dancing to the tunes, pull Mom from her seat, and have her join him. I would fall to the floor laughing, blissful, as I watched them showcase their dance moves, till my ribs hurt.
In the evenings, I would prefer to eat from the old man’s plate, much to Mum’s chagrin. Nonetheless, he seemed to enjoy it. He would actually encourage me to eat to my fill. The only condition was that I could never eat with my fingers. Forks, knives, and spoons for every meal.
Prime news time meant I would have to sit still for 30 minutes while he was consumed by the night’s top stories. I never understood the fascination with news, as he would also wake up at 5:30 a.m. to watch CNN and keep abreast of world news, which was often about catastrophes.
After the news, it was reading time. He would lift me by the armpits, place me on top of the coffee table, and hand me a book, Ali Baba and Forty Other Stories. Every night I would read a story out loud. At first, I would struggle to pronounce the words, but as weeks went by, they became easier. Twenty-six letters of the alphabet, yet combining them could tell never-ending, fascinating tales. I believe that’s when I fell in love with words. I started with storybooks, moved to novels, and Sidney Sheldon is still my all-time favourite author. Then I moved to encyclopedias just to better understand the world. Like most writers, I read volumes upon volumes of books until I found my voice.
I am writing this with my 14-month-old daughter curled up in my left hand. Watching her drift to slumberland, momentarily opening her eyes just to make sure that I am still around melts my heart. Truth is, the day she was born levels of love and happiness I never knew existed were unlocked in me.
I shed tears of joy when I held her soon after birth. It was surreal. A tiny human being for whom I was now fully responsible for the rest of my life. I was filled with immense joy and equal amounts of fear. What if I don’t turn out to be a good father? What if I am not a role model she would like to emulate? What if, after taking care of her, she ends up married to a toxic man who clips her wings and makes her life miserable? I still harbour some of these fears. However, I made a vow to do my best. From day one, I changed her diaper and bottle-fed her every morning before my meetings. I bathed her and took her on long walks in the mornings and evenings. Every time I walked through the front door, she ran up to me. I sank to my knees as she gave me a tight hug, bubbling with joy. Hell, I haven’t played golf since she came into the world, as hanging with her gives me a better thrill. Hell, I even quit some consultancy gigs that had me working till well past midnight so I could spend my evenings watching cartoons with her.
Having a daughter surely changes a man. It makes you see the world, especially women’s struggles, through a different lens. One night, I had to stay back in class with a fellow MBA student to finish a group assignment and submit it. We finished at about 10 p.m. When I asked how she was getting home, she said she would walk from the campus gate to the highway to catch a matatu to Juja. The thought of her walking alone in the dark freaked me out. I imagined my daughter in a similar situation and how heartbroken I would be if anything happened to her. I ended up driving her to town, which was out of my way, ensuring she boarded a matatu safely before heading home.
I have accepted my new Mubaba status. You should see me at the office and at other social meet-ups, dishing out fatherly advice to young women. I have become much more understanding and supportive of women’s causes.
The first time I took my daughter to her clinic appointment on my own one Wednesday mid-morning, you should have seen the faces of the women in the waiting area. Dangling the baby bag from one shoulder and holding my baby in the other, I squeezed into the only space left. The entire room fell silent, everyone watching my every move. When she began to cry, I took out a bottle of milk and fed her. A woman behind me whispered to the one next to her.
“Aki ona vile bibi ametoroka akamuachia mtoto. Some women are so evil.”
It hit me that everyone was feeling sorry for me because I was the only man present without a partner. The nurses were super helpful. It wasn’t until I went to subsequent clinics with Missus that they realised it was by choice. I still get the same looks when I go shopping or walk in town with her in tow and no woman by my side.
I have realised that my approach to fatherhood is heavily influenced by my old man’s style. My mother had to go back to college when I was a little over a year old, leaving me in my father’s care. He would bathe, feed, and entertain me. Now that I am older, I spend at least a week every quarter hanging out with him. Typically, we drive around checking out his investments and sit chatting until well past midnight. Our relationship has transcended the father-son dynamic, as I represent his interests in many major transactions, and he does mine.
It recently struck me that perhaps the strong bond we share was formed when I was left at home with him. I hope to be equally present in my child’s life and to have a similar connection when she is an adult. All I want when I am old is for my children to visit me frequently with their own children, because nothing can replace physical presence.
Being a father is a great honour bestowed upon a man. A man typically wears many hats and has enormous responsibilities. Sadly, most men have been conditioned to believe that all a man needs to do is provide, and that the mother will take care of the rest. Nothing could be further from the truth. Provision is just one role; a man is also the parent who instils integrity, a work ethic, and a sense of morality in his children. He pushes them to realise their full potential. Women are mostly nurturers; it is men who push their children to pursue seemingly impossible life goals. Children learn about responsibility, respect, sacrifice, and love from men. Fatherhood is a solemn role, and its impact cannot be discounted despite the politics surrounding gender roles. If you are the kind of person who throws money at children, believing it can replace your presence, trust me, when you are old they will do the same. They will send you money when what you really need is your offspring regularly taking you to see medical experts, asking questions and trying to get the best treatment for you.
If you are a father, I beseech you to make a deliberate effort to spend more time with your little ones, because they grow up so fast. Some scholars opine that kids will have spent 75% of their lives by the time they turn 13. Each parent has to make a deliberate effort to create a bond with their child; relying on their mother’s connection will not cut it. The good thing is that it is not the amount of time you spend with them but the quality that leaves a lasting impression in their minds.
I wish you a family-oriented weekend.
Awesome piece. Quality over quantity
Best article I have come across it educative,entertaining n informative
Great talk and walk congratulations.
You are a super hero! Thanks for sharing with us!!
You’re on to something young mubabaz. Great job!
I’ve just enjoyed reading this, wow such a great piece
Awesome, impeccable piece.
That’s great God bless you and may all father’s emulate you.
Informative Great Job
God bless you sir
Brilliant!
This was a good read early in the Morning.Thank you
You write so well…and you write “truth”… Family-filled fee-good weekend tou you too!
A great piece… So inspiring.
I enjoyed every piece of this
Well written.
Wow,a nice read!
For a moment there i thought you were telling my story. Those early days spent with dad are the most memorable ones. He was my number one teacher, taught us how to swim, build us kites, played football, pierced our ears, and took us on several road trips especially when he had to go to work. Right now he is in heaven where he belongs with his fellow angels.
Well spoken sir,fathers miss the mark on this, no wonder when children grow up they always side with mum since she took the time to be with them in their younger years.
A great piece indeed
This is what I always pray for … My future babies deserve a good dad
Great
Soo inspiring
Great piece
This is great. A super piece of writing
An incredible essay… kudos man..apart from that, this is a sound parental guidance n advice which makes many men to catch-up with their many inevitable responsibilities.This alone acts as a sign board of balancing leisure n cardinal duties in men environment …to instill spirit of responsibility to their growing children without leaving whole bulk to mothers.
Am greatly inspired.
This is so inspiring…you were raised right and you are doing a good job transferring the same to your lineage. If only we could be intentional in parenting, the world would be a better place for everyone.
Awesome awesome awesome writing! Almost like a full circle of life reading line by line. Well done for being intentional about your role.
As a father of two daughters,that’s a great piece to read this early morning
I took ample time to read through the lines. Bro, you have written the piece passionately and I can make an assumption that you are enjoying the experience. Take good care of the little queen. I her good health, sound mind and success. Keep on!……..bythaway we met once during a hike with Expeditions Maasai Safaris. That’s all I can remind you
Very inspiring, I wish my dad were anything near that, surely even now am fifty plus,a grandmother and am still trying to bond with my dad
I was raised by my father.he taught me all .I know from doing laundry . keeping the house neat.valuing education and working hard and smart.i salute you Mr A.M.Kuria.
Happy fatherhood
Good piece loved the flow and the realness in the words
A great walk down memory lane..Hapo kwa “clip her wings”…why do some men feel the need to do this? Women have got so much potential and inherent joy which sometimes disappears in marriage. Overall, a very well written piece and a great reflection on fatherhood and the quintessential Kenyan lifestyle.
Good ,I love your article ,continue writing and being an ispiration as a father we shall have a better world.
Great piece of advice that all fathers should read and follow
Wow!such a creative piece
woow
Sir… The last 2 paragraphs are full of wisdom. Fatherhood is much more than what is peddling on the current streets. A father is not merely a provider, he is the guide, he teaches order…. He is the True North.
A great piece.
Beautiful
God bless you Mark Maish for being your father’s true son. By the grace of the almighty you will not fail in all your fatherly roles.
She is a lucky girl and one day when is able to vocalize the 26 alphabets she will melt when she reads this piece that she inspired…
I identify with you , great father .
Great piece
This is alot maina nitamaliza kusoma kweli mtoto wetu
John Gitonga Kariuki awesome read
Speechless , my daughter my life
Profound
Hongera dad for being there for your daughter
Nice one Mark Maish
Stephen Kyalo ..a great piece to read
Nice article Maish
Love. This.
Nice piece and welcome to the club. On the part of taking kids to clinic it’s a privilege which comes once which bonds kids forever. Mark Maishh we should catch up. It’s been years bro.
#Informative
Wow
Hats off to good father’s….hats off to my own father a good and honourable father and husband….
so cute
Jethro Cherub Mwanza
wish you too family-filled feel-good weekend! wont you?
A very nice read. Very inspiring too.
Excellent piece
Wait …I think the rest of our fathers fall under a different clause…
A great piece. God bless you.
Great write up, just hope it inspires someone out here. You were raised well and are very intentional on parenthood. The burden of raising up kids has always been laid on the w£n with men supporting from a distance.
Great father you are.
Superb
Your father taught you well, father’s of nowadays can go even two days without seeing their children but living in the same house.
Impressive
I always tell men that kids rarely disappoint their dads if you nurture them well. See how great you turned out. Kudos to all men who are there for their children.
Weeh Kuna mtu amesoma yote
Thumbs up
Thanks for being a deliberate parent.u won’t regret it.