Daddy Issues

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adapted from visitusa.com

Let me tell you a story, I’ve never been able to forget since the first time I heard it.

“Two children are on vacation with their father at a holiday inn on the shores of the Indian ocean. He takes them sightseeing and even hires a boat so as to give them a memorable tour of one of the world’s largest water body. Being a man of his own words he takes them to a solitary place beyond the rocks to fish. After a number of fruitful moments he gives his line to Mark, his eldest son, to hold onto while he goes below the decks to make them something to eat. But first, he gives them a warning or an instruction you may say. Love in his eyes and anxiety on his trembling lips he says, “Mark and Doug whatever happens don’t jump in the water.” then he scurries off below the decks. While down there, Mark tags on his father’s line which somehow has caught a big fish. At first he keeps this to himself because he wants to take credit for it but changes his mind when his catch suddenly seems to have more power than he expected. “Doug!” he calls, “I think Dad’s line has caught something here!” Doug looks at him then shouts back, “Well lets see!” then he walks towards him. Before he gets there the line gets a sudden tag and before he can say Help Mark is being furiously dragged on the water. Doug, thinking first shouts at his dad for help. His dad runs the flight of stairs to the top of the deck and seeing his son helpless in the middle of the ocean he’s lost on what to do. He shouts at Mark to let go of the line who does so not because he heard his dad rather because he’s too tired to keep holding on. His dad revs the engine and turns around to go save his son from drowning. From a far he can see shadows circling his son and from his random readings his fear is confirmed, sharks! He’s now close enough to his son and asks Doug to help him pull Mark aboard and just as he’s reaching for Mark’s hand he sees the shadows now so close enough that he might not be able to pull Mark to safety. So he pulls out his pocket knife and rips the skin on his left hand and plunges into the water just as Doug holds onto Mark.”

A few writers have succeeded in painting dad as a figure who could change one’s life but am certain this story takes the thumbs up. Many would reckon I did this piece because of the looming father’s day, well I did but something else strikes me. Almost every book I read have painted “daddy issues” as the reason for dysfunctional kids while “great mums” are the reason for unexplainable success. Well, I agree and Yes, I don’t agree as well. I agree because many people can’t be so wrong at the same time unless this is a universal controversy to paint all fathers as absent, abusive, alcoholic and irresponsible. To add my voice to it all, well mum’s too could be provide a better mark for such description yet in it all they have been showered by all the hullabaloo of how they make the world go round and how when the clock stroke midnight they ensured Cinderella had one shoe on.

I’m not intent on painting Mums as bad people so as to make Dads gain some points, well maybe a little. I wanna paint dad’s as the people they really are, passionate enough to make a fool of themselves sometime even so that mum’s take all the credit. And that has been their undoing, while mums drag all their children and relatives to battle it out, dad’s have stood a safe distance not because they are cowards but because they are brave enough not to let their personal battles to bring their offspring to harm. In case you have been questioning how aloof your dad has been during turmoil, I bet today you get your answer. Just before I forget I once heard,

Women fight like politicians, they bring all they can hold onto including chairs, name calling and threats of allegience to mount Kenya, men fight like sheep they hit their heads together even after it pains them to death.

I’ve stayed with my dad a lot so when I vouch for him, I know how much he means to me. My mum too has played a superb role and sometimes forced me and my dad into weird escapedes like man hugging and asking my dad to flog me out in the open infront of my friends, who I had happened to tell that am a grown ass man who gets flogged no more. So much for her undoing, she has cooked me chapatis, ugali and an extract of milk the luo call moo alenya and ngiende. She has thrown all caution to the wind and told my average looking girlfriends in the face that they are not as hot as they think they are. But in all her brevity today I choose to honour my dad, a man I believe there are few like and if at all they are he’s beaten pants down at being the best dad I know of. This is not because when my mum caught me and Anita, the girl next door, “reading” and mum had insisted I get punished he had said somethings are not what they look like. Or it’s not because the day he got me teasing my distant cousin that she’s so ugly that her tits had shrunk back like those of an ostrich he had walked by like he heard none of it. It is also not because when he made me go to church every Saturday when all I wanted to do was hide below my once-white-now-something-else duvet. Maybe it’s because he never took away my 42 inch pictures of J-lo that hung on the ceiling directly above my bed.

I remember once when worms were having a ceaseless party in my stomach and we had taken a matatu into Kisii lands when the turn boy commented that I was fat ass pig whose every dose of deworming drugs had been shared by the worms who also happened to have worms inside them. The matatu had roared into laughter and dad had sat quietly next to me and pretended like he never understood that dialect. When we got to our stop he got off the matatu and pulled the turn boy aside and shot him a blow into his belly that got him flying and landing into the bush. Maybe a kick had followed I don’t remember because fat as I was my eyes were sealed shut from the laughter that ensued. I ended up laughing all year long that soon I had lost weight and looked like a normal kid. My dad still jokes that the worms had gotten killed from the body vibrations that came with laughter. Maybe i’ve exaggerated a little, who cares cos after all you’ll need to have a better story to convince me that your dad is more bad ass.

To celebrate all dad’s who have suffered media demolition and literary torture, please share your stories of how heroic your dad is and show him some love all week long until 16th June.

Oooh and one more thing, Mark survived so lets make dad’s trend this week. Tweet with me on twitter @Jahnekoh and let’s celebrate the men who us happen.

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Here’s my favourite joke for father’s day

Dear Dad,

$chool i$ great. I’m making lot$ of Friend$ and $tudying hard. I $imply can’t think of anything I need. $o just $end me a card, a$ I would love to hear from you.

Love, your $on.

Dear Son,

I kNOw astroNOmy, ecoNOmics and oceaNOgraphy are eNOugh to keep even an hoNOur student busy. Do NOt forget that the pursuit for kNOwledge is a NOble task,and you can never study eNOugh.

Love, Dad

adapted from boyslife.com

Peotic play

Hey guys this week am gonna do something new and I hope you like it. On my twitter page I profess to be a poet yet few have gotten a chance to read my pieces (if at all they qualify as such) so this week after serious arguments with one very special but stubborn lady, I bulged. She’s one of those straight face ladies who never take no for an answer and hits the point straight. I reckon “Playing hard ball” would shake at her wrath. Drum rolls

 

Piece 1

this was inspired by my random thoughts:

 

I have missed thy tender touch

soul searching eyes and beautiful skin to match

thy pink lips that tremble in fear

dark hair that shines as you draw near

if God ever created a beauty

me thinks she must’ve been as pretty

with curves upon bust and hip

a sensuous attractive smile on lip

thee stretches the limits of perfection

unto places beyond my affection

yet every time I let my gaze roam

finding it placed on you is a welcome norm

for in my wandering upon the earth

me’s never met any like you on this path

being a man not of so little say

am amazed about speaking you I draw nay

 

The last call

You never know what is coming don’t act like you do.:

 

In the tranquility of the moonless night

void of stars and wind even

a house stands alone in full sight

giggle and laughter clouds this heaven

a people oblivious of their changing plight

to the non-understanding eye,a fate’s heathen

the little lad stands beyond the light

rid of deep thoughts by Beethoven

slowly shredding his vengeance and might

years to come on this very spot

emptiness will replace this view

as sweet memories are deluged by rot

and in a home hitherto laden with stew

hunger shall raid all but maybe not

for survival will be a thing of a few

who escaped this night’s joyous laughter

succeeded with gunshots and blood

and in place of a house shall rise a slaughter

within which this lad’s future’ll be blurred.

 

Great week y’all. Hit me up with comments and thoughts and don’t forget to find me @Jahnekoh on twitter.