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HANDS ON DADDY

Someone said, many can be fathers but only few can be dads. Still in the mood of celebrating fathers I would like to celebrate a particular group of fathers – the hands on daddies. To be specific those daddies that accepted their wives and girlfriends with kids from previous relationships.

Not so many men do that, in most of the cases that I have heard of, the woman is always forced to give away the child, either to her parents, sisters or brothers or to some un-known caretakers. Other fathers on the other hand accepted the children these women came with but all their lives made them feel unwanted and out castes.

I know at least one or two people who have adopted children their wives’ came with and have raised them as their own. A close friend of mine shared her story with me. Currently married for the last two years, she and her husband had been friends for a long time but had never considered ever dating let alone marrying this mister.

He was a traveler and worked abroad, but she ignored him every time he made passes at her. Her then boyfriend got her pregnant but decided to stay with someone else while she was left with the child in her belly to face the world alone. Some not so good advisors told her that getting rid of the child would be the best thing to do but she knew shed never forgive her-self if she ever did that.

She decided to keep the child and as she went on with her daily activities her path crossed again with the man she only considered a friend. He himself coming from a single family, raised solely by his mother, this guy decided to make her his wife and take claim of the child.

From day one, she says, he has been responsible for their daughter’s upkeep. Their child calls him dad and he calls her daughter. Her story is just beautiful, how I wish all men were like him. The last time we talked she said there is no-one she would like to raise her child but him, and I understand why.

Like I said before, there so many men out there who call themselves fathers, but only a few qualify to be dads. For those very few men raising not theirs but doing a good job – congratulations. It takes a real man to do what you are doing. At least all of us can say we know one or two guys playing daddy to some one else’s child.

Happy fathers day to all the men that have played a big role in a child’s life. The society needs more of their kind. And may all the boys raised by them become better men!!!

If you want something said, ask a man; if you want something done, ask a woman.

On point

When they keep on pointing out your mistakes and you feel bad about it,

Then they start a discussion concerning you,

Not that they want to hurt you,

But they want to help you.

Sometimes it’s just too much,

Especially when you know you are working so hard to change everything bad they see in you.

But then again, you ask yourself,

Is it worth the trouble?

We judge ourselves, yes!

Compare me to you,

I see am better at times,

And you are better other times.

What is wrong with us?

What’s the POINT of all the trouble?

We are no-longer interested in the issue,

Instead of correcting my personal issues,

Am busy looking at another person’s issues.

The world has changed, the point miss-understood,

I don’t even understand, my point lost focus way back,

That’s why this point is longer important.

GOT THE POINT?

Old Train

The day was cloudy, and for a moment I almost carried my umbrella. Kenya Railways was my destination, I had never been there before and after everyone frightened me, reminding me to be extra careful I couldn’t go alone. A very good, friend, Oska accompanied me and I have to say he’s more of a photographer than I am. (Thanks Joe for the hook up) My day ended well and these are the results of a day well spent.

 

It’s just a few hours since the last train left

Has been packed here for quite some time now

Nobody really knows what goes on after the workers have left

There is always another way out just look closely

The wheels

Rust, rust, and more rust

Atieno yo!

this past weekend i attended a Human  trafficking workshop. i was touched as i could not really define wat Human Trafficking really meant. and with that this poem drove the point home

A Freedom Song

Marjorie Oludhe-Macgoye

Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.

Since she is my sister’s child
Atieno needs no pay.
While she works my wife can sit
Sewing every sunny day:
With he earnings I support
Atieno yo.

Atieno’ sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.

Now my wife has gone to study
Atieno is less free.
Don’t I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress! aren’t you grateful
Atieno yo?

Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market.
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s had a baby
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live
And repeat the life she had
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s soon replaced;
Meat and sugar more than all
She ate in such a narrow life
Were lavished at her funeral.
Atieno’s gone to glory,
Atineo yo.

My aunt is a virgin

 

Two weeks before, mom told me that aunty would be spending the holidays with us. I was happy at least, this time I was going to have someone to tell my stories. She is a wonderful woman with three kids, all married.

D-day come and mom woke up early to meet up with her at the bus station as I continued with my sweet dream. When they got back home, I wasn’t up yet (I was woken up by the banging on the door). So I went to look at who was misbehaving at our door when mom and aunty appeared from ……..no-where?

To her shock, she quickly asked me to go back and get dressed.

Aunty this is called a night dress.

And mom just stood there laughing at me.

After breakfast we decided to take dear aunt out for lunch. We reached our desired destination two hours later than we expected but at least we arrived.

This restaurant was packed and we had share a table with a guy who was waiting for dear loved one. We continued our conversations as the guy who was sharing a table with us looked on.

He was the highlight of that afternoon. We ordered food as he was still waiting for his so called girl friend. The phone rang and he picked it.

Ati viatu imekatika?” he said.

I laughed. It was obvious that the person he was waiting for wasn’t interested in showing up. But my dear kept on calling and calling. This made me realize how rude we ladies can get at times.

Food came and we enticed our tummies with nyama choma. Our new friend then called another lady, within twenty minutes she was there. Wonder why he was bothering himself with the other one in the first place.

Lovely day ended but not before saying goodbye to my new friend. On the way home we had to wait for about an hour for a matatu. Then a bus came and everybody got in. We were charged a hundred shillings, some complaining as others were just happy they got a rid.

Home sweet home: we arrived tired and very sleepy. The next day was another day full of hilarious happenings. It was Sunday, and after mass a friend invited me to their place. Cool as I would escape for some few hours then go back home when no – one really needs me.

When my friend came to greet me, he gave me a hug and this kind of shocked my aunt. She immediately asked my mom why she was letting me miss behave in that manner. Of course mom is used to it. Though she too was shocked the first time that happened in front of her.

By the time the week had passed, she had seen and heard a lot, especially when it come to my way of talking. I always joke around with mom, and every time I called her Oga, she could wonder why. That’s how I call her aunty, not unless am in trouble or very serious at some point.

I switched on the TV to watch my favorite music shows only for them to tell me they want to watch Sarafina…..ggggghhhr (I’ve watched this thing like a billion times till now it’s just annoying re-watching it again)

Be a good girl Brenda

And the best way to do that is Kujipa shughli.

At the end of her visit, I decided to ask aunty how my cousins were doing. I shouldn’t have asked.

They are fine, only wondering when they are coming for your wedding

I looked at her like…….. Are you kidding me?

Of course she was serious but I chose to ignore that.  I went on with my business like nothing ever happened.

Our generation and there is totally different. The society plays a good role in shaping our mind set too. All I can say is that the next time am with her, al learn to be modest, I don’t want her to have an heart attack because of my being over social!

The 21 year old baby

As a child, I grew up like an adult, as an adult am followed up like a child. Call it the pros and cons of being an only child. At times am left to wonder if they are alright. The things they expected of me then, no-one seems to care but now they are expecting me to be this little babe they make decisions for.

At times as we watch the utahama lini advert, I keep on asking myself if they really get the message. And then am reminded not to play loud music in their house; yes sir, as long as I have my ear phones, you need not to worry about that.

Something happens in the house and you are the first suspect. Of course you can’t escape, other than the two, who else lives in that house? By now am so envying my age mates who have their own apartments.

They quarrel and you are forced to take sides. Thought I was only a babe! To avoid this, I make myself busy with nothing in particular; just want out of that situation. My name comes up again and am forced to say something-anything. My goodness isn’t this Kofi Annan’s job?

She is invited to attend a wedding where her friend’s daughter just got married. “Soon she’ll be bringing home grand kids to her mother”, she tells me. She gives me this look and I know exactly what she’ll be saying next. “I already told you am not getting married to just anyone”. Disrespectful she’ll call me.

Got a job, can’t wait till am 38 and am asked nitahama lini? And like every other working person, I get home late. Then she’ll start with the questions, where were you? Am she didn’t notice that we live in the other side of town. And traffic jam starts at 3pm, while I leave my work place at 4:40pm.

She mentions that I went out with my friends and I just don’t want to tell her. Now that she’s mentioned it, it’s been awhile since I last went out with my friends, this Friday night please don’t wait up for me. “Wait till your father comes back and I tell him how you´ve been misbehaving”. Fortunately, he comes home extremely late. She forgot about me and turned on him. He surely does know what to tell her because she suddenly calms down plays nice to everyone. Mh!

It’s Furahiday and am chilling out with my pals yo! Bzzzzzzzz, the phone wount stop ringing. “Mom I told you not to wait up for me” when it too much I put it off knowing very well that al have to get a good excuse for my phone being off the next day.

Arrive home early next day, creeping along the corridors only praying not to be heard when I hear a voice from the back, “Where are you coming from?” so she was waiting for me. A lecture soon follows and an again asked when am going to get married! That brings me the idea; maybe I should just tell them I want to move in to my own apartment.

It takes me days before I can finally decide whether or not am going to ask this or just go ahead and do it. They come home so happy one evening very excited, and I decide to steal the occasion by asking if it’s okay for me to move out.

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