Daughter

Pride of my heart, my little princes- what wrong have you done to deserve this? When you were a little girl you played with your doll and waited for me until I came home. You grabbed my hand and would drag me to the kitchen to see what your mama was cooking. You were such a joy in the house. When you grew ready to start school you immediately fell in love with books. You never gave us trouble even on the first day. Then you went to high school and loved the church. What a paragon of obedience and sacrifice you were? Not once did a teacher of yours grumble about your conduct. You even saved some of your pocket money then brought it home. The first Quartz wall clock in the house was a gift you received for exemplary academic achievement. Pride of my heart, my only child you made us proud. You passed your final exams highly and went to that prestigious University-formally Royal college of Nairobi to study Law. That is where you grew into a woman. That is where you met him. After graduation you wrote and said he had proposed. You brought him home. Such a handsome simple man-the son of a University professor himself a diplomat working with the Foreign affairs ministry.

He looked in love with you. You were in love with him obviously from the way you laughed when he made a joke .I had that trust in your choice. I was always on your side. Your mother seemed to distrust him. She said it was her instincts. I stood firm and said it was your happiness she was afraid of, she was afraid of losing you. She was begrudged but I said you deserved to move on. You deserved to be happy.

Finally the sun rose. The day was here. Its soft yellow glowed in your eyes. Tears welled in my eyes. I was the full moon of happiness. Your mother cried too. The Bishop himself presided. The church itself festooned with multi-coloured crepe paper, balloons and classical gospel music was a descended paradise. The flashing cameras from the media intermingled with the flowery voices of the women’s choir and Halleluiahs. What grandiosity of pleasure in the soul of a father’s pride.

The heart and its matters- Were we blind folded?