To Kill Father's Ghost ꘡꘡: The Knowing

I knew all of it dear father. About all the other women, the anserine investments, the alcohol problem. I knew why you fled from the city, where real men stride the streets. Toiling everyday for dreams bigger than them, constantly changing themselves just to grow into the men who can slay lofty ambitions. Where men take risks and eat from the sweat of their brow. From he that pushes a cart ignoring the sun’s raging fury, to she who ignores the uncertainty of the future and sets up a multimillion Pesa company. But you my father, couldn’t ignore anything. It was too tough for you. You noticed everything,  and it all scared you.

You couldn’t stand the heat of the city, you couldn’t compete against men faster, wiser, stronger than you and so you ran back to grandma. You ran back to the village, to your mother’s feet. She gladly welcomed you back and that is when I finally figured it all out. I figured it out when you left your wife to fight it out alone. You didn’t care about the oath you swore to God, nor your children’s futures, nor your honour. You just wanted away from all the stress, you needed to catch a break, to just go away and figure yourself out. The very things you sneered at in me. That is how I knew.

You were a spoilt man - kid. Mothered out of your senses and entitled to your detriment. Everything was easy for you, until it wasn’t anymore. You lashed out. You battered your wife in my presence. I saw you many times, but you only saw me once. Then you started with me too. I blamed you, but now that I am almost your age, I see why.

You were trying to hide it. Trying to hide the fact that you were never man enough, projecting your fears on me, trying to make me a man. But you went about it all wrong dad, you only made me hate you, drift away, stop caring. You did not have to be so mean, so violent, so abusive. You only made me just as mean, violent and abusive instead. But I won’t waste words up here blaming you for it, I am trying to 

find myself, to be a good man God knows, I try every single day. I try so hard sometimes I feel like I can’t take the pain anymore, but then I get up and I try again. I have to prove you wrong even in your death. I will be a real man some day, even if it is on my last day.

For now, I am just like you. A chip off the old block. I am afraid that I am indeed not a real man. I am not settled yet. Afraid of staying in one place for too long lest people figure out the real me. The broken me. I’d rather they stick with the charming, confident always joking me. Only I can know that it is a façade.

I’m afraid of relationships and commitments. Those bloody things, cursed be the man who thought it would be a nice idea. Unlike you, I’m still not married yet at this age, you beat me on that one. I see your sick smirk old man. Even in the spirit world, you still have it in for me. You see, I thought I would finally do it this year but I fell too deep in love. That is why I have to handle something papa. It’s funny how I still seek your approval to this day but I hope this is manly enough. I am going to confess to her, I’m going to say everything. Look at what I wrote her. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been in my life, and even though I feel sad, there is a silver lining of joy knowing that I am better than you, at least on this aspect. I can be honest to myself. 

(To Be Contd.)