As usual, I’ll start with a disclaimer. Chances are this article is going to trigger some of you. I know that because I want to talk about someone very important to me, someone I’ve had behind me all my life. And I realize that that is one of those privileges that not many have. So if this is a touchy issue for you, this is where you click off.
This was a week of celebrating the men in our lives. And as such, I want to tell you the story of a man. A great man. Part of me thinks that I should just do something for him and leave it at that. But I have done that, and I’m still compelled to celebrate him here. Besides, he isn’t a very sentimental guy. And the posting thing doesn’t seem like enough justice. So I’ll celebrate him the best way I know how to. Instead of writing a whole speech to celebrate him when he’s gone, I figured I might do it now, while he’s still here, and I’ll edit it in the future accordingly. So this is a collection of the lessons I have picked up from this man. They have served me well. I hope they serve you too.
Consistency
I went to Milimani Primary School for the full eight years of primary education. For a public school, it was as good school as you could get, better than most private schools today. There was a teacher by the name of Mr. Kamau, who was in charge of the school trips. And this man knew his job. I see kids today going to malls for trips and I’m like what the shit. By the time I was done with primary school, I had visited all the great rift lakes, every major mountain from Nairobi to Elgon, and spent time at the coast. And the one constant I had for all those trips was that this man was there. He was the PTA of my class - or my sister’s - or both. Memory’s a little fuzzy. But the PTA always went on the school trips with the kids. So wherever we went, this man was somewhere in the background. Not as an unwilling participant. But a very willing and engaged one.
In high school, I went to a school deep in ukambani, with murram roads for long stretches, and bridges that were non-existent across rivers that would frequently flood. Our uniform had a white shirt, and the shirt would be dirty by the time you made it to school. It was at least a six hour journey to and from. A whole day lost. And yet, without fail, I knew he’d be there. Always. In the classic style of dads. A newspaper, some chicken, and pocket money. He was present at home. He was present at school. I attribute the blasé way I move through the world to this implicit assurance I had from him. ‘I will be there.’ And he continues to be the rock for out little sister, the rock where she sets her foundation.
Integrity
I’m pretty sure this man gave me a beating a couple of times in my life, but I have just one memory of him disciplining me. I had been saving money in a piece of paper that I had hidden under my bed. I can’t remember how much I had saved at that point, but it was a substantial amount. But one day, while my mum was cleaning, she found the money. Mum was normally the one doing the disciplining, but every once in a while, I’d do something that made her go ‘your father will deal with you.’ And whenever this happened, I knew I had fucked up. It wasn’t even that this man was a harsh disciplinarian. But I think there’s something about him getting involved that made me realize I had fucked up really badly. Because he was a mostly chill man. And so, when he got home, mum filled him in, and I got disciplined.
This man had this thing where he let you know why you were getting disciplined. And in this case, the message was that I was supposed to let them know. First, because they have no idea what I was going to do with the money. Drugs? Porn? Second, because to this man, omission of information is equivalent to lying. Me not telling them was the same as me lying. It was bad behavior. And as I came to learn, this man had a strong dislike for bad behavior.
There is no one I know that has a stronger distaste for crook behavior than this man. For a long time, I thought it was funny, because I had the assumption, since I was small, that crook behavior was always going to exist. My mantra was that there is God and the devil for a reason. I saw it as wasted energy. But as I get older, I realize that he had it right. Crook behavior has effects. Effects that sip into everything around it. It shouldn’t be tolerated because it causes nothing but pain.
Patience
My life between 18 and 25 is a blur. Mostly because it was chaos. It was a mixture of mild depression, confusedness and erratic behavior, most of which wasn’t very good behavior. There was a lot of drinking and substance abuse. Because of this, there were way to many occasions where I did not make it home. Nothing pissed my mum off more than this. Mostly because she had made a vow, when she was younger, to never date an alcoholic. She had succeeded in that. But watching her son slowly turn into one? I think that broke her heart. And she tried to get it to stop. This man however, well his reaction was a little different. His reaction was, for the most part, indifference. Unless I really stepped out of line, he seemed to just ignore. While mum couldn’t sleep well because she didn’t know where I was, this man slept as usual. At least I think so, given how unbothered he sometimes seemed to be. And as I’ve gotten older, I think I understand what he was doing. Somehow, I think he knew that the best punishment for bad behavior is simply not to acknowledge it. Anger at me and at what I was doing, would have been in a way an acknowledgement. He wasn’t going to give me that.
And so for seven straight years of bad behavior, this man, for the most part, ignored it. He did this without taking anything away from me. I still had a place that I could call home. A roof over my head. Food on the table. And whenever I needed help with a project, help was there if I asked. It takes a lot of patience to not react negatively to shit like this. But he somehow had it. There were no grudges. Ask for acknowledgement directly, I’ll give it to you. Ask for it through bad behavior, and I’ll ignore you.
Responsibility
For the seven years of bad behavior mentioned above, I hadn’t spent any new year’s at home. I had this thing where Christmas was for family, but new year’s was for myself. For the new year’s of 2019/2020, I did that thing of disappearing for two days without telling anyone home where I was. My phone has run out of battery during this period, and as such they couldn’t reach me. And I think, being parents, they assumed the worst. by the time I made it back home, mum was so pissed at me she couldn’t look at me. It was one of those ‘your father will handle you’ moments. And what proceeded to happen felt a lot worse than scolding. I would have preferred that he scold me. Because what he did was school me on what it meant to be a man with a family.
He asked me a simple question. Whether I had ever seen him not make it home, ever. And that’s when I realized that this man always made it home. Always. He’d be home late sometimes, because of travel and what not. And whenever he knew he’d be late, he’d call and ask me to stay up late, so that I’d open the gate for him (well, he knew I stayed up late, so it was more of him informing me to be accessible when he made it back). But he always made it home.
He then proceeded to school me on why he always made it home. It was the responsibility of the man of the house to let his people know that he was safe. And the best way for his people to know that he was safe was for them to see him safe, in the house. They wouldn’t ever be sure of this when they couldn’t see him, not matter how many assurances he gave. He told me that I was a man of the house. As such, it was my responsibility too. And since that lecture, four and a half years ago, I’ve always tried to make it home.
Shoulders of a Giant
I have the privilege of having some great men in my life. Men that have, instead of telling me what it means to be a man, have modelled it for me. From Charlie Munger and his message of being a man of your word, to Jordan B. Peterson and his message of taking responsibility for my life, I have some wonderful giant whose shoulders I stand on. But one giant stands high above them all. And it is this man. This man that has laid the foundation for who I am today. This man that has provided stability for me all my life. This man that has become my best friend. If I am half the man he is, I will have done well. All I hope to do is make him proud. And so I carry his name with pride, until the day I die.