*The desire and memories of a father.*
— Poem by Nelson Aluya.
A father, a provider. That is who I am and what I am . Mixed in the middle is the essence of who I want to be.
Culture and society has made it my traditional role to provide if I want to have my manliness and my diginity when what all I really want to be is a father who provides.
I gave and they took all from me, from around and untill I am all spent. Now, I look at that rocking chair where I used to sit to hold their little hands and listen to the beats of their innocent hearts.
Feeling the breeze to my face, I struggle to wonder, where is it all and how much time passed, what promises i didn’t keep and what world did I create and what lives are they living?.
But today, my biggest struggle is to make it to that chair, wondering if i will have enough time to make amends for lost times, to spend what I have left for the ones that call me sekuru.
Those days are far gone when I fight day and night to save face, to keep up status of a life that I was existing in but I was not living.
Now, I only have the strength and desires that hear laughter, see the lines of smiling faces, gaps of missing teeth, feel the touch of tiny soft innocent hands. Hands that reassure me that all they need from me is to be there. Not my imperfection, my fame or my silver and gold. If I cannot have my wish, then let me imagine them in peace.