This is how I knew your father..


I write this here for you. Or your sisters. Or your step sisters and brothers.

For I know that one day you shall feel incomplete. Needing to fill up the puzzle that your father was. For to move ahead well you need to know where you are from. And the few glimpses you got of your father and the not-so-much money he sent once in a while will not be enough to understand what kind of a man fathered you. 

Having had a father who I never really understood his actions for most of my childhood, i can sympathise a little with you who was never raised by a present one. But I won’t pretend that I know how it feels like. I don’t. But since I know regardless of whether he was there or not you will want to understand the man he was, i’ll keep this here for you.

Its been a month now of working with him. Maybe months from now i’ll know him better. But since I don’t know whether I have many more months with him, i’ll just tell you what I’ve gathered so far. 

The first time I heard him mention you, he was telling us how cute you are. Like we were discussing something about a very beautiful lady somewhere when he mentioned how he sires very beautiful girls. With long hair like his mother. But very pretty. He described how all his girls have looks that no beholder can claim otherwise. And on and on he went before we talked of something else. So if you ever wonder if he thought of you; yes he did, if not a lot ,at least enough. 

One thing I loved about him is his genuine laughter. Like in conversations we talked and laughed kawaida tu. But once in a while, he broke out in a laugh that was so pure and genuine for a man his age. The laugh was usually short and without the base that men’s voice carry but not really feminine. Besides the amazing sunsets and nature we saw, his laughter was the most pure and natural thing I experienced during that time of my life. 

He was an above average man when it comes to intelligence. He may not have been the brightest man out there, but he could strategize and plan way ahead of time when it came to the job he had. Which brings me to the next point. 

Your father was a hardworking man. He was the best driver in my calculations that my father ever got. While those before him complained over a lot of work once in a while, I never heard him even once complain. He could let his personal life and social life be negatively affected by his absence but not his work. That man was a diligent one. 

And very loyal and committed too. While he worked with you, he put his heart into your business. That’s what he did with my father. For as long as he was with him, he went out of his way to find more ways of expanding the business, for example, how is the competition doing? Can we improve our way of doing things?. Sometimes he missed the mark with his recommendations, but he tried. 

Your father was funny. Not the kind where those around him keep laughing every time he opens his mouth, but his answers and observations and how he’ll put them left us in stitches at times. 

But one thing, that might be responsible for him not marrying your mother, that you may already know is this; your father loved women above anything else. Women. Were it not for his love for women, he would be a millionaire by now. The guy had a ‘mistress’ in every town. Like every single town we went to, he got a lady who with time could turn to something serious or not. Like women were attracted to him like bees. 

It reached a point we all agreed someone had bewitched him with women and died( in Kamba when someone bewitches you and dies, its nearly impossible to reverse it). Like we could be on the road in some dry place, he hoots to some lady, she comes over, he greets her, tells her a line or two , and next thing you know they are exchanging numbers. Next time we pass there, he has brought her a gift. Next time they are meeting after work somewhere. Like that simple. 

It was his greatest weakness. He knew it. Maybe that’s why he didn’t marry your mother to avoid all the fracas that would ensue due to his cheating ways. So he maintained his single hood, while siring a baby here and there once in a while, and less frequently, staying with a woman as his wife. 

But even then, for reasons best known to him and the universe, he maintained his poison; women. 

And in case you are wondering why i’m not disclosing personal information about him, its because he also rarely talked about himself. Or his personal life. Like he talked a lot( a little less than most extroverts but way more than introverts). You only heard snippets of his life in the middle of a totally different conversation. 

Like the fact that his uncle sold a part of his land inheritance. Or that he was raised in a local church orphanage. And before that he was a street urchin in our small town. Those two points reveal a lot, but unless I hear more, this is all I know about his childhood. 

 I’ll try and keep this updated when learn something new I think you will want to know of. But as of now: this is how I knew your father. 

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 What’s your story?


Stories of Courage. Today I’m not all about how I love stories of courage. I think this describes it best. Heard of a light bulb moment? Well, I just had one. 

I thought when you have a light bulb moment, you come up with something new altogether. Well, its different for me. I’ve always had it. Just never looked at it from this way. 

I’ve just discovered that I love stories. Seems weird when I already have a blog for telling stories? A different kind of love. How have I unraveled that? When I found myself dropping everything to attend an impromptu Stories of Courage, now renamed Courage Stories, I kept on asking myself why. Like why did I keep on attending every single Stories of Courage edition? I’ve only missed one, the first one when I didn’t even know it existed. 

And as Marcus Olang explained how he has always wanted to create a space for real stories, I found myself relating to that.  I love rawness. It frees you up. Especially after I did the bleeding it out series here. And I’ve already told my story. Everyone has a story. Some are tragic, others exciting. Some people think that because they didn’t go through extreme events, their stories don’t count. I was there too. Until I realized that everyone has their own pain. And you should never compare it to others. 

And so it hit me, why not tell other people’s stories? Like who are you? Why do you behave the way you do? Why do you do the things you do? How did you end up where you are? What have you gone through and how does that shape your perspective of the world? 

So here is how we are going to about it. I know nothing about writing other people’s stories. And in case you’ve ever told me something in confidence,and if you’ve followed this blog, you know I’ve never written about it. I respect people’s privacy. Because I wouldn’t have liked it one bit, if my best friend had shared the things I told her to the public. But when the time came, I poured myself out here

So there is only 1 rule as we start- you, as the owner of the story, makes the rules. You decide whether to share your name or to share your story anonymously. You decide either to share bits of your life or the whole of it. In simple terms- you just do what you want in my space which provides an avenue for you to be real. We all know churches and friendships are not exactly providing that. 

And that’s how we jump into the fire straight from the frying pan. 

Sharing your story does two important things according to me; one it frees you up. You stop carrying these luggage of secrets within you. It unburdens you. And two, it helps others. I wouldn’t have gone through or started my healing journey if I had never attended stories of courage and heard other people’s stories, that though different from mine, I could relate. And all glory goes to God for that. Being real helps impact someone else going through the same. At least they know there is nothing wrong with pain and being broke and struggling etc, unlike TV and motivation speakers who focus on the success not on the painful journey to that success. 

In case you would want to share your story( which can happen through digital platforms- we don’t have to meet unless its necessary, ), or know someone who would want to share their story, you can reach me via 0700543542 or mmercymwende@gmail.com.

What’s your story?