My fictious father

My father is a perpetual sot whose love for the bottle nearly wreaked havoc a house that is sewn in the steadfastness of the Holy Spirit. As the head of the family, everyone looks up to him when things go haywire. He has however never failed in his task of ensuring that we had basic needs and that school fees is paid duly in time.

As a tot, I usually found his behavior queer. He would sometimes knock in the dead of the night, sometimes kicking the door for my mum to open him the door. When my mum failed to open, she was would face his wrath which meant he would rain blows, kicks and slaps on her. As a faithful jobless housewife, she was a traditional kind of woman who hoped that someday my dad would change and he would stop hitting the bottle.

I remember the days my dad used to take to the countryside in his huge pick up car. He was a very careful driver. He never drove with his family when he knew he was going to partake of ale. That was something he never engaged in. Since there were no stereos in many cars those days, he would tell us stories of the way things were during his childhood. At least he lived most of his life in town as his teetotal father was a businessman in the urban areas.

One day while we were playing with my cousins and siblings in my grandfather’s home, my dad came back drunk as usual. In my grandfather’s compound, we would play till it was time to for supper. Supper was served when all my grandfather’s wives and his son’s better halves had finished coking. In fact we ate as a family and whatever little there, was served equally among those present.

When my father arrived while we were playing, he decided to join in. I didn’t find the situation any odd due to my childhood innocence. My grandfather had a big compound and there was enough space for play for his young children and his grandchildren. That night my father engaged in never seen before theatrics. He took over as the master of the games we were playing.

At some point he would dance and tell everyone to dance. Our mothers watched as he danced having partaken some local liquor. He would again lie flat on the ground and order us to also do the same. We did obey. It was hilarious. Finding someone of his ilk doing such kind of stuff was not easy. Many did fear being labeled childish.

My grandfather was one person who never liked my father’s excessive drinking. He had warned him on several occasions but he still was servile to the jaws of liquor. When my father broke up with my mum for a little while, it was not easy for us his children. He would come home even more drunk and lament to us how our mother was taking him for granted. My mother went to one of her friends since my dad had broken her arm in one of their fights.

It took the intervention of elders for my mum to come back home. But she back with conditions. In the event my dad beat her again, she would go with her children and never come back. My father had no choice but to agree to her demands. For the short period my mum was not there, he became aged and shabby and this was vivid in his facial looks.

For a while, my dad never went to drink. He would come back home in time and even went the extra mile of helping us with our homework. Deep down he wanted to go and mingle with his fellow mates in the drinking dens but the thought of seeing his wife and children go made him swallow his pride.

One day, he came home and surprised us that he was taking us for trip to the Rift valley where we could see the famous lake Nakuru, lake Bogoria and lake Baringo. True to his word, he took us for the vocation. We were very excited and packed our clothes and the items we needed for the road trip. This was one of the most wonderful experiences I had as a toddler. This was the best way he could show us his family that he loved us.

Once a thief, always a thief. After a while, my father could not resist the temptation of consuming alcohol anymore. He would mend fences with my mum in case there was any fracas. But this time round, he never went overboard. I think the words he had been told by the elders had hit him hard and he would be back home in time for supper. He never laid a hand on my mother again.

Currently, my father is retired. He is a successful farmer who wakes up very early to tend to his farm. He occasionally drinks but with caution. As a gentleman, he knows his limits. Once in a while I usually buy him expensive drinks on my way to his place. He never shares those drinks. He usually hides them somewhere he only knows. Once one of his servants stole a drink and when he got wind of it, the guy was fired. 

As a grown up person, we can engage in all sorts of talk when I usually visit him. Each time I ring him that I am on my way, he usually ensures that one of his fowls is slaughtered. But when it is our family going to meet him, he slaughters a Billy goat to welcome us. That he loves us is not in doubt.

SITUONANE.