DADDY ISSUE……part 1

 

My old man and I, have one hell of a complicated relationship. If there is one to begin with. Last we talked was him kicking me out of his house. That hurt, I gotta admit. Never in my wildest thoughts did I ever think it would ever end up like so. 

“Dee be very careful, this tu-antics of yours, your dad is getting fed up.” A cousin of mine tried to warn me. 

“Naah!, not that guy. He loves me. Even when he doesn’t want to. He'd never disown me!” 

 I retorted cockily.

The gods fell back laughing. 

Woiye, look at this one on her high horse, poor poor child. They must have been thinking.

Couple of weeks later, that “darn never gonna happen thing” happened. I got kicked out, yoh! 

Ok, granted that my sin was going home stupid drunk. Like don’t-remember-plenty of what I did that day drunk! All I know is that it was so bad that I traumatized my little sister – Now that is the part that I regret. This was just weeks after my three month stint in rehab btw. The one he didn’t consent to and was indifferent to the whole time. He never came visiting, never called, hung up on my psychiatrist every time he tried to get him to one for my therapy sessions. 

He doesn’t believe in therapy, my old man. In mental health. That addiction is a disease. Haya yote, mpenzi msomaji, according to the gospel of daddy dearest, ni masaibu za kujiletea, all in your head! 

He has never really taken my bipolar disorder diagnosis seriously. I don’t think anyone around me ever has. Through no fault of their own, I am sure.. It’s mostly because they don’t understand it, I am guessing, I didn’t either at first. I have come to terms with it pretty recently to be honest. Been so much happier ever since. Knowing what makes you tick, why you do the things you do, why you feel the feels you feel, understanding you, that’s heaven right here on earth. 

So yeah, my pops had his reasons. All super valid. I was so not an easy child, and he was a strict it's-either-my-way-or-the-highway disciplinarian. He wanted to give me the best advantages that he never got, I wanted the freedom to pave my own path, make my own mistakes, learn from them. Guess that's where we differed.

Is a parent ever really ready for that though? Can they even prevent it? Should they? Will a child ever learn under their shadows though?…Will they ever learn to fly? Learn to soar? Will they ever get to their true passions and purpose in life? Will they? Can a blossoming mind truly thrive beneath the familiar contours of its own environment?

We were always at an impasse. Both trying desperately to understand the other. Always coming up at a loss.

I love the guy – my dad – I truly do. Even when I hate him, and believe me I have one too many times, I still do. That old gizzard!

We were once so close, everyone could see it. I think I added up spice to his life. You see, dad comes from a world where he says “Jump!”  and they ask, “How high?”

He’s the alpha. The Main Man!!! The Big Kahuna!!  The Big Daddy-O!! Mr Top Doggie-Dog!!!,,,You get my drift no?!.... It’s not even about his position, which is quite impressive, or the money in his bank, that's quite a lump sum, or his accolades, now those I wouldn’t mind him bragging about – it's just an aura around him. His presence and atmosphere just screams BOSS!!!!

Then he meets a daughter – one sorta spoiled little girl. A last born daughter, always used to getting her way. One hella curious, hella inquisitive, always with a need to know the hows and the whys tiny little human. Super super shy at first but when you break her glass walls, the blurs start clearing up. She shows up. 

“Diana do it like this!” He’d say.

“Why can’t it be done like this?” My usual comeback.

“Because this is how it has been done. This is how you get the best results!”

How would they know if they had never tried it differently!? I’d always think to myself, trying super super hard not to roll my eyes. In an african home, a mighty massive slap would have ensured. Who wants an imprint of their dad’s humongous ugly black as soot palm on their face?

Me neither. 

He says no but what registers is “Si you try” 

This is how it is supposed to be. My mind registers “Hmmmm I wonder if I do it differently what will happen.”

“How many successful people do you know who have ever smoked weed?” He asked once. 

I was about to get into the first black president of the free world speech but hey, I wanna be besties with Michelle someday so I won’t mention that here. I don’t want her highness to think I support such uncouth behavior! Distatestful!

There are times, Chilling at my balcony, taking in the cool evening breeze. Soaking up the majesticness of the falling horizon, throwing out different dazzling shades of orange. From a distance,  shrieks of kids just from school happily playing. Joint at hand, lighter in the other, caught in a trance of all that beauty, I spark it up.

Take a spliff.

Wonder why I am taking that spliff.

Remember that one question – Do you know anyone successful who’s ever smoked weed?

That darn question!!!

Then continue to indulge heartily. My mind suddenly at peace.

It's like my mind registered that day – LEMME SHOW YOU ONE OF THEM. YOURS TRULY, MOI!!! 

See, told you I got issues.

So yeah, that has technically been our relationship ever since I knew him. 

At first, it was cute. When the matter at hand was which subject to drop in high school, it’s kinda cute how I stood my ground for the subjects I liked even though there were less chances of them helping me secure a well paying job later in life (read home science). The passion with which I fought for it, was an object of admiration. As I got older though, I started embracing my more adventurous spirit. I became more and more inclined to taking risks and exploring the unknown – In the journey I termed, “FIGURING MYSELF OUT!” . I was more willing to try different things, giving less and less fucks. The decisions became more about life and death, about a future – what he saw versus what I saw. My oh my, how different they were!

His version of ‘the best for me’ and my own are as far apart as the poles. I’d be lying if I said I knew what I wanted to be, to do, to achieve from the get go. That is the point I guess, the chance to figure that shit out. That's how you learn and grow right? Turns out him kicking me out was a blessing in disguise – cause finally, I had my freedom. To do my own shit without noise

The freedom of thought. Not many realize how that little thing can impact your entire life. Most people live their whole lives fulfilling other people's dreams, doing their bidding, doing shit the same old way because the boss said that is how it has always worked. They tend to die before reaching their full potential because they are too scared to challenge the status quo. They care too much about what others think. They fear disappointing the person who’s given them that opportunity.  They cower away.  Letting their shine deem. Pretty sad really. I had the same fear for years, I’ve woken up in the dead of night in cold sweats, heart racing, my mind in hot lava turmoil because of it. Nothing relieves it, or makes it go away entirely. Not even a joint. It soothes you for a little bit sure, but the demons never really go away, do they? 

They say it’s mental, why does it manifest physically?

If you are honest with yourself, ujiite kamkutano for just a few. What do you really want? You, just you. When no one else is looking, when no one else matters. Would you still be doing what you are doing now? Who you are doing now?....ako kamkutano is way past due….

Straight from campo I already knew getting employed was never going to be my thing, Tech wasn’t my thing either, entrepreneurship was the god I worshiped. The master I served. Always been allergic to this thing called ‘being told what to do’. Some call them rules I guess. To me, rules don’t seem quite like rules really, more of mild suggestions. Been dancing to my own beat since conception. I'm messy, I'm disorganized, I thrive in chaos, drama excites me. I love the unknown, jumping to the possibilities that it offers. I love color, I love noise, I love shaking it till it hurts, I love new adventures, new people, different tastes, different ways. I love it all. If you meet me and I let you in, you will probably never forget about me! 

My dad, on the other hand, is pretty parallel. He is boisterous and loud and a man to notice in any room. He radiates a sense of power that most find attractive. Or intimidating. It depends on who you ask I guess. He, like myself, is a people’s person. He draws people in. People love him, like really really do. I don’t know what it is with him. There’s always conversation to be had with him. He is a very accommodating man. Long as si nonsense umeenda kumwambia, he says. Akiamua ni hivi ni hivi. I let my emotions dictate my day. Like hey, the me now and the me an hour from now completely different people, I just do whatever makes me happy at that instant. I’ll jump at the deep end before I even know how to swim, I don't need to get pushed. I’ll figure it out while I’m drowning, believe me, and I’ll come out better than most. 

He didn’t know that!

Hey papi, the streets have made a woman out of me. You’d be impressed!

My dad, he’s a good dad. A great dad. You don’t get a lot of those in this day and age. My sisters and I have never lacked, not financially and never in love. He is a very present dad. He came for my visitings like always, back in boarding school, na si na gazeti and a bottle of water pekee. The entire package. Chapos chicken and the whole golden delicacies. My friends envied that a lot. He takes us out on dates, my sisters and I, sometimes solo ones, other times sisi wote. He treated us like princesses growing up, raising the queens we are beautifully blossoming into. 

When he first dropped me off in DeKUT, to start out my adulting journey in the Mt. region, Nyeri County, one curious dewy eyed, couldn’t-wait-to-try-out-shit fresha, he told me one thing that has stuck with me to date. 

“Dee, I’m your father, and I want the best for you. But I am also a man, and I have been through university before, so I know all they crap this boys will try to pull on you just to play with you.” 

“I was once them you know,” akamalizia. 

That burst of honesty is the reason I’ve never really been played before. Broken hearted, sure, we’ve all gone through that, even from the good ones. Don’t tell anyone this, but I have probably broken more hearts than I can count.

Keep that as our tiny dirty little secret sawa?! 

Daddy turned me into a tiny little heartbreaker!

I have loved truly, and been loved, truly, I think…It was and continues to be  the greatest feeling ever! 

Knowing and seeing that he’s with you cause he’s completely smitten, loves not just your body, but your entire being. Everyone should experience such at least once in their lives. 

Being a parent ain’t a walk in the park I can bet. But being a father of just girls, that’s on a whole other level of complications. But he has done it majestically, making it look easy to say the least. I always find myself preaching his dad gospel to any girl dad I meet, like “Yoh, treat your daughters like queens, treat their mother with decency and respect, love her entirely, give them all the advantages you would a son, encourage them to reach for the stars, and trust me, no man driving his dad’s mercedes will impress her just cause he’s got the chums. It’s the character she’ll go for. You can’t imagine how many girls end up giving up coochie just coz Jonte came over na order ya KFC. More than you’d know. He, my dad, is also an amazing human being too. A decent man at heart and in doing. People just love him and for good reasons too. He cares a lot and is one hell of a giver. His focus is mostly family, he is the one guy you can always count on to show up, despite his hectic schedule. 

Oh crap! It just dawned on me.

Holy hell!

The guys I’m attracted to, to some level, have the same attributes as him. I guess it is true that girls’ fall for their fathers after all, first born daughters kwanza.

Boy, am I in trouble. 

Yikes!

The very first time I met him I was eleven years old, in class five, I think that is grade five now. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Like the very first day I fell in love. I saw him, and right there right then, I knew that was my blood. A fruit of his loins. No one had to tell me, in fact both of them were pretty nervous, my mum and him. I guess telling an eleven year old like,

 “Hey baby girl, you see that man you’ve lived with for the better part of your young life, he ain’t really your daddy, this other dude is.” That’s some load of information to drop on a kid no?. 

The thing is, what they didn’t know, is that I knew. I had always known. I knew it from the very first time my mum started dating him-my step dad. I was very very little, three or four maybe, but I remember it. How she first introduced him as our uncle all the way to us moving in with him. I remember it all. I guess that’s why the guy and I never clicked. Like he was a nice dude, to me at least. I never felt mistreated in any form shape or way. I actually think he really liked me. I was pretty cute to be honest, who wouldn’t? Brainy, calm and an awesome personality straight from the womb. Again, who wouldn’t? Plus I was the baby, he had other older sons, two of them. Counting my brother, that’s three. That’s the very first time I ever tasted the powers of the girl child, just saying.

But for the most part I kept out of his way. I always loved it when he wasn’t around, when it was just me, my big brother and mum. A tiny family but the best of them all. Couple of years went by and he and my mom didn’t work out. I am not entirely sure what happened, I guess that’s their story to tell but one thing I am sure of, all the choices my mother made, were for the betterment of my brother and I. God, I love that woman!

Then enters daddy dearest. He drove in in a Toyota....Ahh who am I kidding, I don't know shit about cars, never have...they tell me stuff, I try, really try to be interested but nothing, goes in one ear gets out the other. Ask me my dream car I'd tell you, "An orange sparkly Rolls Royce." Ask me again, it changes to "a metallic grey lambo" don't give a damn about the engine, the power, the speed and what's not, long as it's cute, now that's my ride! Remember, this was way back in 2007, that brand isn’t as ewe inspiring as it was back then. It was one hot car, that's all I am saying. My mom was at the back seat, his brother, my uncle, being at the shotgun. It was around midday, one hapo and the sun was doing it’s thing, sunning. I remember all that because it was lunch time. My friends and I were waiting our turn to be served hapo tu nje ya dining hall. My neighbor and friend, the late Miano, was the first to see my mom. Yeye ndo alikuja kuniita.

‘Yoh Dee, your mum’s calling you.”

“My mum, really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ako ata hapa tu mbele, she’s waiting for you”

This confused me a great deal. Why? Because I was in day school and like three or four hours from then, I’d be home. So why would my mum be in school at that time???

Sure enough, it was her. To add to my confusion, she was still in her cop uniform. Oh yeah, my mum’s a cop. Boys watch out, the woman can handle a gun hehe. 

She had a big smile on but her demeanour wasn’t something I could figure out. A bit nervous, somewhat figetty. Both of us are closing in on the gap between us.

“Kuna mtu anataka kukuona na nataka umuulize yeye ni nani sawa?” She tells me the moment I’m at a hearing distance but close enough that only the two of us could hear. She tried to look reassuring, calm even, yet I could sense her anxiety.

“Aye mum, kwani ni nani? Si wewe uniambie.” 

“Hapana, nataka wewe ndo umuulize” She says in her final, that’s how it is so just accept it tone. 

So I did. Accepted it I mean. 

Walking hand in hand toward his parked …….., it registered, even before I saw who was in the car, I knew who it would be.

For the first time in my whole life, I was going to meet the person partly responsible for my existence. I got nervous and hella shy. I already knew his name. Not coz my mum had ever told me, but coz of the curious little devil I was. Just randomly going through her stuff, I had seen it on my baptism card like a year or two back. My birth certificate only read ******** as my dad, like no name just stars – but I guess she couldn’t lie when the most high was involved. Daddy later corrected it to include his name, a move that he probably regretted when he was kicking me out. 

“Sasa aka ni kasichana kagani I went back for?!” I swear I could see the thoughts run through his mind – on his face.

To date, I still don’t know why he chose that particular time to show up in my life. Still don’t know why my mum picked that moment to let him back into my life either. Actually, I don’t know a lot of what happened between them in the past. They remain cordial and respectful of one another, but I have always wondered how I came into being. To them, I guess that’s ancient history, something they don’t care for anymore. But to me, that’s my history. Was it a fling or were they in love? What made them breakup? Why was he never around for the better part of my childhood? Was I an accident or was I planned? How did she find out she was pregnant with me? How did he? How did they both take it?....There’s a lot there that I don’t know that I wish I did. Not to judge or throw blame, I am wiser now to get that parents are human too, with their own faults and mistakes. Their own wants and needs, their own feelings to navigate. All just tryna do the best they can.

We’re all bullshitting our way through life, aren’t we?

We walked to the drivers side, next to him was a man I knew, he worked with my mum. I only knew him as Welfare, at the time I thought that was his name kumbe it was just the department he was heading. He had always been nice to me, always said hi, even when I was in a crowd of friends playing, he’d stop and make us all greet him but he’d always pay more attention to me. This other stranger on the driver’s seat though, I had never seen. They looked so alike, like two peas in a pod. Clean shaven, dark fellas. Both personas screamed a man who takes charge. The type of men you’d notice the moment they entered the room. Not coz they came in with some sought of swag or were the loudest in the room, but because their aura spelled men of importance. I was a tad bit intimidated to be honest, anyone would. That’s still their aura to date!

We exchanged the kawaida pleasantries, all the while my mom pinching me in the back. 

“Muulize yeye ni nani.” still echoing in my mind. He didn’t give me the chance to though, he took charge and carried the conversation. And again, I was hella shy and super intimidated. I don’t really remember how he introduced himself to me, whether by his name or just my moms friend, all I remember is that he said my mom would tell me more later. He’d gotten fries and sausages for me, that was one hell of a treat, ended up not even getting back on that queue ya lunch. Iyo siku all of my classmates knew Dee ametembelewa with someone important. The aroma of the french fries carried through the entire classroom. 

Later that day, getting home, I kinda expected to get the car packed next to our place. It wasn’t there. I thought that maybe when mum got off work she’ll show up with him, still didn’t happen. Figured the ‘Your mom will tell you more later” would happen that night, while we were seated watching some soap opera, enjoying her favourite delicacy, ugali skuma, still didn’t happen. It was like the whole episode was forgotten. I didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell. Till she had to.

Not having a father around had never bothered me really. It’s like I didn’t need one. Having my stepdad around made me hate a man in the house even more. Our little family was perfect. Till I read his name accidentally on that baptism card and my interest was piqued. Growing up watching soap operas didn’t help either, being a dreamer, and us going through a difficult phase at that specific time, my mum going through a separation and all. Her mental health and finances taking a beating. I used to have daydreams that he’d show up one day with loads of cash to get us out of that muck. I think I even prayed for it. Sir Jah listened to me. He wasn’t a king or anything but him showing up was God working full time. If that happened now I’d be like, “Eh Mungu, si ubariki ata wengine”

The day I met my sisters was one of the best days of my life. My parents set up a meeting, Lilians hotel, in Kitale town. I was to go stay with them for the December holiday, something my mom wasn’t excited about. Days leading up to it she came up with tureasons why I couldn’t go but quite frankly, I think it was the fear of the unknown. Separation anxiety at it’s best. We had never been apart for such lengths of time my mom and I, I barely remember a day I wasn’t around her to be honest. It had always been me and her against the world, my brother our sidekick hehe. 

My dad met us at the entrance, hugged me real tight, I loved it. Still love it. It’s a bear hug, you disappear in it. He led us to the back secluded space, more privacy I guess. I thought he’d be alone honestly, the thought of a family had never crossed my mind, in the very short time I had known him. Walking in, I see a lady and two little girls with her. We take a seat and daddy introduces them. 

“This is Daisy, your sister. And the little one’s Debby”

“Na huyu hapa ni mama Daisy”

That’s how I met the other half of my family. That day it dawned. I was getting the best of the best. Cheki, not only was I a last born, my mum’s, but I was also a firstborn, my dad’s. La dolce vita!!!

Little did I know my life was going through a metamorphosis. A new season had just began!

Daddy Issue…..part 2 (sneak peak)

“Yes my girl!” 

That had always been the way my Socials Studies teacher, who also summed up as the headmaster, Mr Ngaira, addressed me. I was one of his best students, got best performed badges from time to time, but I was also one of the shyest. I was the kid who never really raised their hands to answer any question despite the fact that most often than not I knew the answers. So he noticed me, knew I existed, but my name never stuck in his head. Is Diana Chepchumba that hard to remember really??? I was cool with it though, at least he knew I existed.

Then enters my dad, and I can bet he still recalls me to date! Not by Diana, Neither by Chepchumba. I became Famba from there on......