So the month of June brought with it, strapped in its
arms, Father's day. It was a day supposed to have been a celebration of the men
in our lives. Children worldwide were meant to look upon it with awe and
grateful spirits. They say a father should be a daughter's first love and a
son's first hero. They say fathers are meant to provide the strength, the
security and reassurance that life will be okay. They say a father is the
pillar of a home, the master of his castle, the fearless arrow in times of war.
Many took to social media to praise their fathers. I looked at all the
hullabaloo and felt all the anger rise up from within me. I have been a girl
who has never known her father, never will. I wondered how people could praise
the undeserving. How would you explain that to a child whose only memory they
have of their father is the reign of terror that descended upon the family each
time he was home? How would you explain that to a child whose rough idea of a
father is the comparison of a barking dog, a heartless creature? How would a
daughter who watched their father languish in alcoholism and adultery,
eventually infecting their mother with the deadly virus understand all this?
How would a woman, bitterly denied and rejected while she was pregnant explain all
this to a child that she so struggles to take care of on her own.
The truth is social media has brought with it a tone of
hypocrisy. People are so quick to shower praises and honour on parents they do
not even speak to. The truth is that we are raising boys who do not care one
bit about family. We have loads of young fathers who do not understand the
sacrifices that come with that title. We have people who have rejected their
unborn children without missing a beat. We have men who have reigned terror on
the mothers, and on their children. Our society is flowing with irresponsible
men who would rather let their own kids eat the scraps from under their high
tables instead of providing a quality life for them. Nobody wants to see it.
Nobody wants to say that it is wrong. People hear this and they think there is
too much bitterness lying in wait inside me. People do not understand because
fathers’ taking their kids for granted has become the order of the day.
Nevertheless, our upcoming fathers, our sons, need to understand that there is
no two ways about being a good father. You have to set the rules, yes. You have
to be firm in your authority, but the greatest thing you can give your child is
to love them, provide them the inspiration they need to become their best in
this life. You need to make sure that your child's self-esteem never runs dry;
you have to teach them that which they are not taught in school. You have to be
an active participant in their day to day lives. You have to strive to provide
for them a better life than that which you had. You may give them everything
material but of what value will it be if it was not wrapped in love? You may
believe that this is a totally feminist idea but one day you will be thankful
that this was said. We, ladies, have to cultivate this within our sons.
I have seen a lot of things happen around me. I have
tried to understand some of our African traditions and the one thing I never
agreed on, even with my grandmother was the idea that a father who once
abandoned their child had the right to trot right back in and demand the child,
especially if it was a boy. I have watched the horror of fathers showing up
after years of absence to claim the children that they abandoned, and the only
price they had to pay was two cows and perhaps a goat. It sickens me to the
stomach. It makes me wish that I could educate fathers-to-be. It makes me want to bend the rules. It makes
me want to scream at the top of my lungs that life will never be the same for
those children that you abandon, not even when you place the world shimmering
at their feet. It makes me want to hope that those friends around me, will
provide the best for the children they bring into this world, not just
materially, but also with that which only the heart can give. It makes me hope
that no child will be left like a guitar without a string, with love on a
cordless string to fend for themselves. I can only hope that those with ears
will eventually listen to the cries of this broken heart.
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