Sign up with your email address to be the first to know about new products, VIP offers, blog features & more.

Father

He talks about God. A lot. Not that I mind those who talk about God, or even those who talk about God a lot but I want him to talk about that one thing that is the reason we are here. I like God, (because you can love God but not like him). I will explain. Say you had a dog you bought for 45K and you fed this dog and brought in someone called Orlando to train it to sit and not cough when visitors are eating and your children came to love this dog furiously like a family member and then one day that dog started coughing when visitors were eating then it’s fur started falling off and your child, the last born, the oops baby, said, “This dog is old, dada” and you told them no way is this dog old, he’s only a teenager. But then one day you are in the boardroom at the office having a meeting with “long jaws” from upstairs (that’s how you all refer to the VP-Operations) and your house-help calls and says “Mark amegongwa na gari” and you think, that is impossible, there are bumps on the street you live on, but then when you go home, Mark is dead.

When a dog like that dies you just can’t like God in that moment even though you still love him. Do you see what I am saying? You can’t like him because you have to explain to your inconsolable “oops baby” why that dog died, why anyone would run over Mark. Why there are so many bad men driving on the roads, killing dogs that cough when visitors are around. Most importantly you have to offer an answer to the most eternal question in your fatherhood so far, “where do dead dogs go? Do they go to heaven?” “Is Mark in heaven, dada?”

Anyway. My point is that I don’t want to talk about God all the time even though I love him. There are times I just want to talk about other things – things that God made. Because I know that even though I’m not talking or thinking about God, He is there. I want to know that when I open a fridge He is there somewhere with the leftovers from last night. Or when I stand outside the bonnet of my car as they fill my sprinkler tank, that He is in that water. I want to know that He’s there when I get my favorite socks, rolled into a ball by the help, he is in that roll. I used to have some sessions with pastor Gowi for an hour and a half every fortnight and he wouldn’t talk about God even once until at the end when we stand up to pray. I liked that. God liked that. We just knew God was there and He was listening and we didn’t have to call his name for Him to know that we loved him. Or even liked him. I don’t think God is needy. He is jealous and wrathful but I don’t think he’s needy. God doesn’t sulk when you don’t mention Him all the time. Because He’s God.

“If there is something I want to come out strongly in this article,” Simon Waweru is saying, “it’s that God has made me, he has made everything possible in my life.” Of course God is listening even where we are at Java ABC. It’s cold outside and we are huddled in a booth with our mocha (his) and herbal tea (obviously mine given that it is only the two of us). Of course God is listening to him and God knows that I’m hungover from the previous night, Friday, but he knows that a man has to do what a man has to do. Simon has dreadlocks and he’s dark with one of those strong manly faces. I only mention this because there are men with feminine faces. They have fragile noses and pretty lips. Their eyes look like a gazelle’s. Swipe an eyeliner on them and you can mistakenly buy them dinner. Not Simon, he has a man’s face, and it’s this face , a bullish head with round solid features, that he lowers over the table and says, “it’s because of God that I have travelled to Europe and America, something that I wouldn’t have imagined would happen to me, given where I am from. So this story for me is about God’s providence.”

This story for me is not about God. Not in its entirety. It’s about many things presided over by God but it’s not about God. When he says “where I am from” he means Kaptembwa area of Nakuru. I have not been to Kaptembwa but from what he describes his childhood, it’s a place of squalor. It’s houses in plots. It’s families living in one roomed houses separated by a curtain, like the house he grew up in. It’s polythene paper strewn all over, twirling in the dust. And Nakuru is dusty. It’s electricity lines running close over houses. Humming transformers. Stray dogs that might or might not end up in heaven. It’s children running around barefoot or in old bathroom slippers and of grim men rising from this dust to do menial jobs in factories or the market, or in town or as butchers, like his father.

When I ask him what exactly he remembers about his childhood he says, “people having sex by the roadside,” and “ blowing condoms as balloons” and “burning tyres in the estate and watching the black smoke rise in the air.” Even though he was only six and a half in 1998, he also remembers how his mother died and he remembers his grandmother accompanying him to the police station or a place where there was an ununiformed policeman asking him questions about the death of his mother. He doesn’t remember much, and of course everything is hazy now because he was only six and half and it was a long time ago anyway, but he remembers the comfort of his grandmother seated next to him as the man, the policeman, asking him to recall exactly how he remembers his mom dying.

What he remembers is that his mother and his father were akorinos. “I remember them fighting about something and my mom leaving with me for my grandmother’s house,” he says. His mother used to work in a supermarket in town. “I don’t know why there was a curfew in 1998 but I remember that this one day my mother didn’t come back from work and we were worried. Because of that curfew we couldn’t leave to go look for her so we waited until dawn to go find out what had happened to her.”

Together with their grandmother they set off to look for her in his father’s house, that was not so far from there. When they got to his father’s house, which was one of the houses in a line of houses, his grandmother, stood right outside the door and asked him to check if his mother was inside. So he knocked at the door and called out his mother’s name. She was in there because she responded. He opened the door and stepped inside. This was just after 7am, the house smelled warm because the windows had not been opened, to mean the house smelled of sleep. “I recall hearing my mother’s laughter (odd, I know) from behind the curtain that separated the bedroom from the sitting room.” he says.

He stepped forward and parted the curtain. He says for some reason, he saw his father, without his mukorino turban, but just a bandana or sorts which he used to wear underneath the turban, he’s holding a butchers knife and he’s slicing his mother’s throat. He remembers his mother stumbling and clutching at her throat as she staggered a little, as if in that final moment of death, she still thought she had a chance to escape the room and escape death. She collapses at her son’s feet. At his feet.

“I was only six years and I don’t remember so many things in greater detail but I will never forget the amount of blood that was coming out of my mother,” he says. “It was a lot of blood. A lot. It was bright red and it was coming out like a fountain, as in spurting out like a burst tap.”

“Did she scream, did she try and say anything, your mom?”

“No, she didn’t scream, but she had her hands on her throat, as if trying to stop the bleeding.”

“Did she have her scarf on?”

“No,” he says.

“Did you look into her eyes?” I ask. “Did they look into yours?”

He’s quiet. Not the quiet of trying to gather his memory, but just a quiet of not having a thing to say. Or more to say. Not to me. Not about this.

“I don’t remember.”

What he remembers, though, is looking up at his father and their eyes locking and him, upon realising what he had done, stabbing himself in the belly several times. Or maybe twice. He doesn’t recall. But he remembers him also falling and his grandmother screaming behind him upon seeing her daughter in a pool of blood and then things become hazy; neighbours gathering in the plot, shock, murmurs, then he remembers little else. He remembers that brief encounter of interrogation with the ununiformed policeman. Moving in with his grandmother. He doesn’t remember his grandmother crying. He doesn’t remember the funeral. He remembers, though, seeing his father behind bars the day he was being interrogated. And that is the last image he has of his father.

His father’s family wanted to come for him, he says, so he was shipped to Eastleigh to live with his uncle. He hated it. “I was a naughty child and I couldn’t get along with my aunt.” He says. After three years he was shipped back to Nakuru to live with his grandmother. “I recall that my grandmother and my relatives used to hide all photos of my mom from me.” he says. “Maybe to protect me. Maybe they thought I’d forget if I didn’t see her pictures. I remember that they started doing that because sometimes when we’d get into a disagreement I’d take my mom’s picture and cry holding it against me.”

One of his mom’s sister’s who lived in Shabab took him in. She had a daughter who later became like his sister. “I wanted to belong, to be normal like other children with parents, and my aunt told me that I could call her ‘mom’ and I did but I was disappointed because that word came with many expectations for me and I felt like she didn’t meet them.” He says. “She provided for me but I didn’t want all that, I wanted to be loved and I felt like she didn’t love me and I grew up hating her.”

He would run away from home and live with a friend. He would go back and live with his grandmother. His father, by this time, he heard had been sentenced to 8-years in jail. He hardly thought about it. He blocked this part even though it played in him like a slow record. He went to school on sponsorships. He joined high school not too far from Lanet. He was popular because he was a great dancer and a great singer. Girls liked him and his moves and his voice. Boys wanted to dance like him. “I liked that to be admired, to be loved. I sought it out,” he says. “I was struggling with issues but I didn’t know I was struggling with. I remember that one day I was required to give my surname and I didn’t know my father’s last name. I didn’t know who I belonged to. So I used my uncle’s name – Gioche: Simon Waweru Gioche. It’s only later that I was told that I was struggling with identity. I wanted to belong somewhere.”

He met a girl called Bancy.

Of course he met a girl. What’s a story where nobody meets a girl? Girls just make a story. Or break it. Every story takes a turn when the man meets a girl. Our protagonists always meet a girl when they are standing under the awning of a shop and it’s raining and the girl is standing there with a slightly shivering lower lip, her wet blouse sticking against her chest because it’s cold and she didn’t leave the house with an umbrella because she had planned to get back home before 4pm and so she’s cold now and her boobs are cold and petulant and they are sticking through her flimsy blouse in defiance of her choices and our protagonist, a gent who is not even a nipple guy, says (to her, not her nipples), “do you know where to get matatus to Pipeline?”

It didn’t happen like that for Simon.

They met in high school, a day and mixed school. She was “light and beautiful,” he says, which is like describing a ship like “big and buoyant.” They dated for the better part of high school. Bancy came from a “cool family,” he says. To mean she had a mother and a father. Friendly parents. “I think over and above liking her parents, they became like my identity.” he says. They broke up. And because he was busy being famous he scored only B Minus in KCSE but then went back to a boarding school and scored A minus earning him entrance into UoN where he studied Geospatial Engineering. Now he is an intern at International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center at World Agroforestry Center in Gigiri.

“Where is your father now?”

“I don’t know.” he says. “I don’t know if he was released or if he is dead, I don’t know.”

“What does that make you feel, that your watched your father kill your mother?” I ask him. “What has that meant for you as Simon?”

“I have gone through many challenges. My teens were very disturbed but I had Bancy and she made me feel like I belonged. But then people leave and you have to remain with your demons and deal with them. I have tried to deal with mine. I’m lucky that I found peace with my past when I found wonderful people at Mamlaka Hill Chapel where a missionary helped me deal with my father’s wounds which I didn’t recognise until much later. It’s through talking to this elderly missionary that I processed my childhood. And it’s helped me. God has really helped me.”

His mocha had come with a small cookie, one of those heart-shaped cookies Java give and most people always just ignore those poor cookies and that, to me, is always like ignoring love. I had been eyeing his cookie for a while and he didn’t look like he was keen to eat it. So I reached out and took it and broke its spine into two. Munching I thought of his phrase, “that he was walking around not knowing that he had a wound.”

“If you were to meet your father today, what would you ask him?”

He pauses.

“I don’t know.” he says. “I forgave him. [Pause] There was a time I heard from my cousin that he was not really my biological father but I never bothered to ask my grandmother because as much as I lost a mother she had lost a daughter and I didn’t know what kind of emotions my inquiry would trigger. So I let it go.”

“Would relief be an emotion you would describe knowing that he wasn’t your real father?”

He says he’s at peace. He says that he’s found strength in God. It doesn’t really matter if he’s his father or not, if he’s alive or not, what matters is that he forgave him and in the forgiveness he has found peace. But he wonders if he has step brothers or sisters. He doesn’t spend time mulling over that but he wonders.

We parted ways and I went to run my Saturday errands with the children. And I thought about him on and off. Thought about his father and where he is and if he ever married again after jail and if so if his new wife climbs into bed with him every night, knowing or not knowing that the man sleeping next to her slit a woman’s throat with a butcher’s knife. Then I thought of how he insisted that I focus more on God and not his father and it didn’t make sense. Well, not until two days later when somehow the Lord’s prayer crossed my mind – Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…” and the coin dropped. God had substituted his biological father! He sees him as his father. Like he would call him daddy, if that would not be offensive.

122 Responses
  • Nyambura Kagwe
    12.06.2018

    ….But then people leave and you have to remain with your demons and deal with them..Deep.




    77
    • The Granny's Corner
      12.06.2018

      That statement speaks volumes. It spells resignation. It speaks of mistrust. It says do not get attached for whatever. It is heartbreaking and not easy to get over with once settled.

      So is Simon seeing somebody? Or has he been with a girl after Bancy?




      10
    • Suke Francis
      12.06.2018

      Or they deal with you.




      8
    • TheBlackKennedy
      12.06.2018

      Wewe Nyambura….

      You just stole my comment




      2
    • Mars
      12.06.2018

      Nice read Biko.

      Deep.

      COMING OF AGE: you think that my mystique is a round of applause?

      mindlesshub.blogspot.com




      2
    • Kent Mwokoz
      19.06.2018

      It was tough. Maybe he even tried to fill that hole in his life… But with what?? Unfinished story
      I do appreciate that we can agree that this generation has an identity problem…
      Thank you Biko




      0
  • Joan Mundati
    12.06.2018

    God had substituted his biological father! He sees him as his father. Like he would call him daddy, if that would not be offensive.
    Thank you Biko for this great read as always.




    27
    • This article brings so much evidence of God’s love; Jack this is a sermon. Consider preaching as a side job.(you’re well suited to the calling) Besides the point check out this nostalgic article I’m sure it will bring back memories.




      6
    • Caleb Samita
      14.06.2018

      This was my favorite part




      0
  • Francis
    12.06.2018

    Beautiful narrative! Such resilience, surviving trauma to the mind of that magnitude takes alot of faith.




    9
  • Bero
    12.06.2018

    Pure love. Pure heart.




    1
  • Alexander
    12.06.2018

    Biko, Please add Favicon to your website. It will probable take 1 minute and 49 seconds; but it will help the likes of us who open many tabs.




    5
  • P. K.
    12.06.2018

    But for your last line I was gonna be so through with you…




    5
    • P. K.
      12.06.2018

      Take this seriously Don’t equate God to things he created. It is just wrong gaki.




      1
      • Mushie
        12.06.2018

        Aiiiii…God is our Father.Is Calling Him Daddy wrong?




        4
      • Kaimuri Magu
        12.06.2018

        We have a lot of things backwards. It is not that God has a heart like that of a human parent, father or mother, it is human parents who are given a heart that mimics God’s Love and Parental care- as tender nurturing as a mother and as strong and uplifting as a father. Therefore just as Jesus called God “Abba” in Gethsemane, the Hebrew word for “Daddy” He teaches us to do the same in prayer (the “Our Father”) and in life, “…you have only one Father who is in Heaven…” The fact is, all the ones on earth are stand-ins for God, and sooner or later, everyone is meant to have God in their lives as intimately and unshakeably and reliably and more-than-we-could-ever-hope …as Abba, Daddy.




        41
  • Chanty
    12.06.2018

    God had substituted his biological father!….Beautiful




    5
  • Emma
    12.06.2018

    Ooh wow! How do you survive that




    1
  • Evans
    12.06.2018

    One of those stories that leave you with a lump in your throat.




    9
  • Wine
    12.06.2018

    God is a father. This i know, for he is a father to the fatherless, its not cliche it is life happening over and over making you realize that indeed God is a father,not in an abstract way but in the most intimate of ways and depths that heal your scars and give you a fresh slate,thats a ll we need, a fresh slate to start all over again with God.




    13
  • Danson
    12.06.2018

    Waw!. What a story. The things that people have had to endure in this world, only God knows




    1
  • Wine
    12.06.2018

    God is a father. This i know, for he is a father to the fatherless, its not cliche it is life happening over and over making you realize that indeed God is a father,not in an abstract way but in the most intimate of ways and depths that heal your scars and give you a fresh slate,that’s all we need, a fresh slate to start all over again with God.




    1
  • Imperfectous
    12.06.2018

    I love the ending most. I loved the whole piece but the ending is it.




    6
  • Hannah
    12.06.2018

    Finally.First to comment…..and after Reading. MHC has really helped him deal with his past. Some issues can only be made easier by looking up to God.The pain they come with is beyond human comfort i.e no amount of words can heal them.




    2
  • Graysea
    12.06.2018

    ” daddy ” totally not offensive, the Bible says; We have received a Spirit of Son-ship that we can cry out Abba Father.




    15
  • Sly Mackenzie
    12.06.2018

    And our Father in Heaven,He’s the father of the fatherless.In him we find hope and i’m happy to see this man doing well despite what happened to him.




    3
  • Charles Muriithi
    12.06.2018

    Watching you mother get murdered… I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. I can only compare it to watching you child get murdered. I hope he learns to cope with his demons, for demons never leave us alone. We just need to accommodate them in our smallest room in our souls. That way they take up less space in our lives…




    1
    • Malaks
      13.06.2018

      True
      “…demons never leave us alone. We just need to accommodate them in our souls. hoping they take up less space in our lives…”
      wish everyone could handle there demons




      2
  • Riri
    12.06.2018

    This is why someone said, ‘Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind.’




    40
  • Eddie
    12.06.2018

    Well. That was both tragic and traumatic. Good thing he has found solace in God, or at least the existence of the deity.




    2
  • Harriet Ngugi
    12.06.2018

    And it is a story about God Biko! You just titled it Father!!




    2
  • Mushie
    12.06.2018

    But then people leave and you have to remain with your demons and deal with them…..Truest..

    I know Simon,I have listened to him say the story and its heartbreaking to watch one of your parents kill the other in cold blood..I am happy he found peace in God… 🙂




    13
  • Nine
    12.06.2018

    Nice read, as always




    1
  • Wambui
    12.06.2018

    Great read Biko, great deal. It’s good that he dealt with his past and has forgiven. All is well that ends well!




    1
  • tabby
    12.06.2018

    very sad story of domestic violence that kids have to witness everyday. Am glad Simon found peace in God




    2
  • Kate
    12.06.2018

    Not offensive at all! He (Father)calls all of us to run to him, because he will shelter us when calamities strike!




    2
  • Suke Francis
    12.06.2018

    God is peace. He fills holes in someone’s life that nothing else can. When you have God you feel at peace not much can disturb this kind of peace. It’s not the “I like sitting down at home sipping tea staring into space listening to your favorite music” kind of peace this is much more profound.




    7
  • Kimani
    12.06.2018

    Where is Bancy?




    2
    • Xhara
      12.06.2018

      Oh yes.. where is Bancy.. with a girl comes love and happiness or sadness and misery..




      0
  • nayma
    12.06.2018

    It would not be offensive to call Him Daddy. I do. I trust that you’ll find the joy that comes with knowing that He is indeed Abba, Father.

    This is my favorite piece this year. It reflects the unspoken and most often unidentified turmoil all of mankind faces, the daddy issue.

    PS: I never ignore the java cookie! Sometimes, I demand!!




    6
  • Anna
    12.06.2018

    …But then people leave and you have to remain with your demons and deal with them. Great read Biko




    0
  • NM
    12.06.2018

    Her religious beliefs went first, for all she could ask of a god, or of immortality, was the gift of a place where daughters love their mothers; the other attributes of Heaven you could have for a song. Next, she lost her belief in the sincerity of those about her. She secretly refused to believe that anyone (herself excepted) loved anyone. All families lived in a wasteful atmosphere of custom and kissed one another with secret indifference. She saw that the people of this world moved about in an armour of egotism, drunk with self-gazing, athirst for compliments, hearing little of what was said to them, unmoved by the accidents that befell their closest friends, in dread of all appeals that might interrupt their long communion with their own desires. Swell read.




    2
  • The Granny's Corner
    12.06.2018

    I am listening to Ken Njiru talk about his experience as a father (To his sons. And the daughter) and as a son (to his father) on Engage talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oMKjNxVsZ4. The passion in him is evident. The memories are pleasant.

    And there is Simon. He has memories too. Of his fathers. The one who took work home and butchered his mom and the heavenly one who has been gracious. Fatherhood is challenged.




    2
  • Christine Tabitha Wanjiru
    12.06.2018

    She was “light and beautiful,” he says, which is like describing a ship like “big and buoyant”. My sentiments exactly. Lovely piece.




    1
  • NM
    12.06.2018

    Her religious beliefs went first, for all she could ask of a god, or of immortality, was the gift of a place where daughters love their mothers; the other attributes of heaven you could have for a song. Next, she lost her belief in the sincerity of those about her. She secretly refused to believe that anyone (herself excepted) loved anyone. All families lived in a wasteful atmosphere of custom and kissed one another with secret indifference. She saw that the people of this world moved about in an armour of egotism, drunk with self-gazing, athirst for compliments, hearing little of what was said to them, unmoved by the accidents that befell their closest friends, in dread of all appeals that might interrupt their long communion with their own desires. Swell read as always.




    2
  • Christine Tabitha Wanjiru
    12.06.2018

    She was “light and beautiful,” he says, which is like describing a ship like “big and buoyant. Right? 🙂
    Lovely piece .




    0
  • Kadonye
    12.06.2018

    That was my turning point with religion – the realization that God isn’t just a fear inducing, reverential ‘concept’ but a merciful, abundantly loving and gracious God whom I can have conversations & a relationship with. So it’s not about periodic church attendance and kowtowing but genuine feels.
    I was worried when you began on this millennial stories route but ehh, it’s going well.




    11
  • Pauline
    12.06.2018

    It is heartbreaking when kids go through such horrific things but thank God Simon found healing, thank God also for the Mamlaka hill chapel.




    3
  • Jepkoechkiplagat
    12.06.2018

    Simon please look for Bancy… Seriously




    2
  • wawuda grace
    12.06.2018

    First time to comment. … Great read biko.. As usual




    3
  • David Mwenda
    12.06.2018

    Interesting piece break ups do happen and that death me I’d be disturbed the rest of my life or in mathare




    0
  • Fridah
    12.06.2018

    When you have lived this kind of life, there is a lot of emptyness and confusion.He didnt even know who he was.
    When you finally meet God and have a personal relationship with him, he heals your wounds and fills those empty spaces in your heart in a way that is supernatural and he becomes your all in all.
    God is his all thats why he sees only God.




    5
  • Grace
    12.06.2018

    Therapy should be essential. To help us deal with our demons even when there is nobody around. So that we are able to still be ok. To still love God, love ourselves and love our fellow man.




    3
  • wawuda grace
    12.06.2018

    Look for bancy . She gave you strenght when you did not have a shoukder to lean on…




    0
  • Mumbi
    12.06.2018

    Beautiful. Simply.




    0
  • Jeanie Karanja
    12.06.2018

    I like the part “You can love God but not like Him”… impressive school of thought there…




    0
  • Edna Ko
    12.06.2018

    Such trauma! Glad the young man has, and is still continues to courageously face his past. I totally understand the God bit, in such-like situations, how can he not adore God?




    1
  • Ginger
    12.06.2018

    Our father who art in Heaven …




    0
  • Esenam Allen
    12.06.2018

    “I wanted to belong, to be normal like other children with parents, and my aunt told me that I could call her ‘mom’ and I did but I was disappointed because that word came with many expectations for me and I felt like she didn’t meet them.”

    My auntie did her best but her ‘best’ hurt me and sadly, she doesn’t know when to stop so i avoid her(if i can). I have forgiven her but i will not allow her to keep hurting me. And the part about people leaving,……..i can relate. I have been dealing with my demons since my childhood. Thank God for being our father.




    3
  • Ichams
    12.06.2018

    It seems to me he is yet to deal with it. Anyway thanks to the missionary who opened the wound. Its true he must have replaced his father with God. Its a journey he is walking. my prayer goes to him as he takes on this safari.




    3
  • Lameck N Muthee
    12.06.2018

    I have come across those Java cookies. Crunchy,with a tender crumbly texture,shaped like what I offered my exe girlfriend-my heart. She crushed it with hate into tiny pieces to make sure the next girl will never have what she couldn’t have. The thought makes think of doing the same to those Java cookies,not with hate but love,and gluttony. But as I salivate to the imagination before the action, my limbic system always reminds that I am in the presence of high profile individuals discussing consequential matters. So I pretend to be serious too and manage my craving for the cookie. It’s torture. The equivalent of being stuck in a westlands hotel where folks eat chicken legs with a knife and a folk(leaving a substantial amount of meat on the bone) and since you don’t want to look stupid, you conform and do it too. Little do they know that while alone in your house having a similar delicacy, not even the bones are spared.




    8
    • Kale Kajamaa
      13.06.2018

      exe girlfriend, pun intended? ….I bet java uses exe flour…




      3
  • Bob
    12.06.2018

    I like the title “Father” yet it is not even about his father




    2
  • Seki
    12.06.2018

    But is there really a God? God is a definition made up by humans to seek comfort and an understanding of death. God is always used by people as an explanation for the unexplainable, which in time science has explained or in most will explain as we humans continue to evolve. Bottom line is that there is no scientific truth behind any god for that matter. It is easy to argue/debate a god that no one has ever met coming out of out alive…In the end whatever truth lies out there we will all find it, keeping it to ourselves for all of eternity.




    1
    • Elizabeth Magu
      12.06.2018

      I have shared a link to a video that offers an argument for the existence of God by Desire . It observes that in nature, there is a match between desire -say, for food or sex in a creature – and a corresponding system in the creature’s make up to enjoy, receive and process the object of its desire. And that therefore, when human beings desire unconditional perfection in Goodness, in Truth, and in Beauty then it’s because something in their make up – the soul-searching corresponds to this desire and exists for and can only be satisfied by it. Please take a few minutes to watch it, and let me know what you think. https://youtu.be/X71Gq9a1qxE




      2
    • Kiptoo
      12.06.2018

      I didn’t want to dignify this comment with a reply but… lemme just keep it to myself.




      0
  • Cliffenote
    12.06.2018

    A statement so true:
    ” Of course he met a girl. What’s a story where nobody meets a girl? Girls just make a story. Or break it”




    1
  • Yvonne
    12.06.2018

    It’s not offensive to call God “Daddy”, it just shows the level of intimacy that you are at with Him. It means that you are finally aware of your identity in Him. That you are aware that in Him, you are at peace and everything is as it should be. When you are finally aware of your identity in God, everything else that happened doesn’t matter, it all falls into place. You are at peace, with yourself most of all and with everything else.




    4
  • kkmutai
    12.06.2018

    Where is Bancy?




    0
  • Dot
    12.06.2018

    God makes all things beautiful …one day you will be past your demons




    1
  • Betty
    12.06.2018

    8 years! that is not fair.




    1
  • Sanaipei
    12.06.2018

    There are times, such as this when I have no idea what to say. I cannot imagine what this man has gone through but I’m glad he has found comfort in God. And it’s true I suppose, that one can love God without necessarily liking Him. I tell my best friend that I’ve had struggles loving God at some point in my life. Questioned whether He indeed loves me unconditionally.




    3
  • Claire
    12.06.2018

    Wah some things only God can help you process. It is good when you find your source of Solace. To Simon, you are blessed and in deed God is your Father, every step, every moment He is the there with you holding your hand.




    2
  • Claire
    12.06.2018

    Wah some things only God can help you process. It is good when you find your source of Solace. To Simon, you are blessed and in deed God is your Father, every step, every moment He is there with you holding your hand.




    2
  • jackie
    12.06.2018

    I call him Dad,he is GOD




    1
  • Eve Mbati
    12.06.2018

    This is a very sad story but i am glad he overcame his demons and managed to forgive his father and move on with his life.




    0
  • jetnimoh
    12.06.2018

    “God had substituted his biological father! i don’t get this part




    0
  • Kim Birech
    12.06.2018

    Men are indeed wounded warriors. If you ask any man around, most of them would tell you that they have wounds inside them, unknown to many. Most of them are Father Wounds (wounds caused by their dads). It ranges from absentee Fathers. I know Simon, and his story has helped many other men. I’m a Mamlakite as well, and twice a year, we have 10 (per season) classes (one class per week) of Man Enough Lessons. There’s a topic on Wounded Warrior, a topic that allows men to share on their wounds. Simon and I have been facilitators for the program. It’s been a good one. Other than helping men cope, it pulls together a band of brothers purely for accountability.
    Reason is, few men open up about their wounds and struggles. This band of brothers will help them talk about issues and seek help from each other on how to overcome their struggles.




    9
    • Kale Kajamaa
      13.06.2018

      This programme is just timely for our generation. I have facilitated in some seasons and have seen men get back on track, to the core of manhood as had been designed from the beginning of time.




      2
  • Louis Wamukoya
    12.06.2018

    Deep! Nice read as always. Thanks.




    0
  • Jaz
    12.06.2018

    Ati ‘Oops baby’. Hahahahaha!! I’m I the only one who found that funny? Classic Biko. Just Classic!




    3
  • Edna
    12.06.2018

    Why does the story feel incomplete..? it ended too fast
    left me high and dry with a lump in my throat!




    1
  • Tabby
    12.06.2018

    He indeed found solace in God……Deep! Thanks Biko




    0
  • Nashilu
    12.06.2018

    Words fail me….




    0
  • Philip
    12.06.2018

    He says he’s at peace. He says that he’s found strength in God. It doesn’t really matter if he’s his father or not, if he’s alive or not, what matters is that he forgave him and in the forgiveness he has found peace. …..Deep!




    2
  • Anne komen
    12.06.2018

    I have never known where rage that makes a man hit a woman or worse kill a woman comes from. A woman is the most loving person, she gives birth to children. Just like you and I were brought forth into this world with a woman, our mothers. Whoever kills a woman his heart is already dead. It is black and no longer pure. I don’t think 8 years is equal to taking a life, no sentence is equal to taking a life…




    2
  • MAGDALINE WATORO
    12.06.2018

    Awesome as always.
    Nice read.




    0
  • Ken Kago
    12.06.2018

    No, it wouldn’t be offensive at all, to call God ‘Daddy! He would love – not ‘like’ – that very much, I suppose!
    I have heard people call God, ‘Daddy!’ I have never tried it! It sounds strange to me, but to them, it comes out effortlessly! I guess because I have never even called my father, ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy!’
    But I realise you read Scripture sometimes. I can’t call to memory right-away but Scriptures say somewhere something to the effect that God adopts us when we believe in Him and we can then call Him ‘Abba!” Those who know more say this is pretty much like ‘Daddy!’ Obviously, Simon has come to embrace this adoption – and can talk about God a little more than most, even if it means the hearer may feel uncomfortable. And he might as well call God, ‘Daddy!’
    See, Simon’s experience is very sad! But if he says it has taken God to get him where he is – emotionally, mostly – I totally believe him! But this is the kind of experience that gets people asking questions like; ‘Why did God allow this to happen to a six-year old? Or where was God when Simon’s father murdered his (Simon’s) mother? To which there can be no easy answers, if there indeed are!
    No, Biko, thinking of God as being in the fridge with the leftovers of food from last night or in a rolled ball of socks…… is a bit on the irreverent side! I object!
    There is no harm in talking about God, even all time, if anyone can, I guess! But I wish we would talk to Him more than we talk about Him. Then, we might have something more meaningful, even interesting, to say to others when we talk about Him!
    Great rest of the week!




    3
  • Diana
    12.06.2018

    This is deep! I really enjoy reading your narratives!




    0
  • Shirmon
    12.06.2018

    He was our first. Coco and Biggie followed shortly after. In the first months of his life he was quite sickly and was at some point admitted for 3 days. Those 3 days felt like a month. The house was so quiet. But thank God eventually he got better and grew up to be so strong and healthy. He even became the popular one in the hood. So one Sunday morning when the neighbour’s kid frantically banged on our gate, tears streaming down his face, my heart sank. There was a sudden sense of foreboding. “Terry is dead!” He blurted. “He is laying on the road at the corner!” Hubby couldn’t muster the courage to go check on Terry. But i did. And suddenly Terry joined the statistics of victims of “hit and run” incidents. Why would someone over-speed inside the court? With kids running up and about?
    I buried him in our backyard. We decided never to get another cat. Because no one can replace Terry. Even Coco and Biggie had respect for Terry and never exhibited that ‘cat and dog’ rivalry.
    I mourned for months. I questioned God. I did. I wondered where Terry went. I still do.




    0
  • Bree
    12.06.2018

    And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors….




    0
  • kevin
    12.06.2018

    awesome read as always




    0
  • abdullah omar
    12.06.2018

    would it have helped if you had settled the biology of the father?




    0
  • Shee
    12.06.2018

    I learnt to call God Daddy since i didn’t have a physical one to call that. I guess it was in my search for identity of which I found and entirely grateful.




    2
  • val Lukhanyu
    12.06.2018

    I wanted to mention something about that heart-shaped cookie, I love cookies but Simon reminded me of heroes of this world, a cold blood survivor, what if his daddy restrained him too? but he forgave his father, weak people don’t forgive, he’s strong. May God bless him, not just blessings that should overflow but bless him with kids to call him daddy, the moments he missed the most.




    4
  • stella kyengo
    12.06.2018

    forgiveness surely frees the soul ..




    2
  • Malinda
    12.06.2018

    After my dad died i was so broken. Its almost 1 year now and i still refer to him like he is present when i talk about him. Because i may have lost him physically but now i have 2 fathers in heaven. And i find peace in knowing that.




    1
  • The VillageGirl
    12.06.2018

    God had substituted his biological father! He sees him as his father. Like he would call him daddy, if that would not be offensive.

    No, it won’t be offensive to God.. HE is our father. Our daddy.. How much he loves us.




    2
  • Yyve
    12.06.2018

    The only thing left is to thank God for giving me great parents who don’t fight and are loving and caring and it’s also not bad to call God daddy,personally I find solace in calling him that during prayer and I when I talk about him




    1
  • It’s not a bad thing to talk about God all the time.
    I guess what irks people sometimes is that when someone talks to them about God, they feel like they are being admonished or under some sort of judgement.
    For some reason this title reminds me of a Pakistani lady who came to Christ, and penned a book about her daring escape from the predominantly Muslim country. (“I dared to call Him Father” by Bilquis Sheikh.)
    I’m thankful that Simon has found healing..and that God has continued to be His Father.
    God is a Good Father, we may not understand why some things happen as they do, but He remains good and His ways are higher than our ways.




    3
  • Bancy kamotho
    12.06.2018

    Beautiful piece…..i remember it all Simon,am happy you finally found peace “learned to deal with your demons”am happy to have been there for you,gave you a sense of belonging ……and am here,so dont look for me,if ever you need someone to talk to…i wil always be here for you




    22
    • Kinaga
      13.06.2018

      And behold, Bancy appeared!




      0
      • Ireneann
        13.06.2018

        Yesssssss Bancy appears. He is indeed our daddy, he causes daughters and sons to reunite




        0
  • Kevin
    12.06.2018

    A brave soul ,Waweru.




    2
  • Margaret
    12.06.2018

    Beautifully written as always Biko. Well Simon, you had a difficult childhood but you found God and there is no better place to be. May God continue to be with you.




    1
  • Kay
    13.06.2018

    Pls Biko this month leading to fathers day aki just post nice stories abt fathers again.heroic stories.or stories of redemption.or fathers seeking it…its sad reading abt dead beat dads and the damage they do.




    0
  • C warui
    13.06.2018

    Did you folks notice that Bancy has posted a comment? She remembers him and how she helped him find some belonging . Samuel has one very good friend still , other then God .

    Nice read Biko.




    1
  • Nana
    13.06.2018

    This is forgiveness on another level. To be able to forgive and make peace with it, you need grace on another level.

    Did you just say pastor Gowi !! He taught us a series on ‘sex in the box’ he should be featured here sometime




    1
  • Cynthia
    13.06.2018

    It is those wounds that you do not even know you have that do the most damage.

    One of the best Ted Talks I ever watched (listened to?) was on emotional hygiene. We all know what to do when we nick ourselves shaving or scald ourselves with hot water etc. But what do we do when the wound is someplace we cannot touch like the heart or the emotions?

    I am glad for Waweru that he found God and, in a very roundabout way, a proper way of dealing with his emotional wounds.

    Thanks Biko. As always, a great read.




    2
  • Esther
    13.06.2018

    i might be addicted to the pain in Biko’s stories.




    1
  • Jay
    13.06.2018

    As always a great read. i may be walking around with my own but Waweru’s are worthy a story just to inspire and give hope




    0
  • Nana
    13.06.2018

    Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…” and the coin dropped. God had substituted his biological father! He sees him as his father. Like he would call him daddy, if that would not be offensive.
    This had me crying. This was heavy precisely because, I identify with this. In our brokenness, God becomes our ‘daddy’ only if we allow Him.




    0
  • Gilbert Mwangi
    13.06.2018

    That ending caught my by suprise.




    0
  • Jackie
    13.06.2018

    God had substituted his biological father! He sees him as his father. Like he would call him daddy, if that would not be offensive. nice…




    0
  • Njoki
    14.06.2018

    the kind of life story that leaves your tongue bitter with unshed tears… Did Simon ever meet another girl after Bancy? fell in love and got married? I hope he found that love in a girl.. He has strength in that he has forgiven his father and finally has found peace in God’s presence..




    1
  • Sue
    14.06.2018

    I only mention this because there are men with feminine faces. They have fragile noses and pretty lips. Their eyes look like a gazelle’s. Swipe an eyeliner on them and you can mistakenly buy them dinner. ha ha ha this just killed me. You are such an entertainment biko.




    0
  • Mut
    15.06.2018

    “the coin dropped! ” Period. Karma




    0
  • FA
    15.06.2018

    Amazed the way some play purist here. I see nothing wrong with Biko’s article.




    0
  • Shiks
    16.06.2018

    Deep stuff Biko. Simon is a man of courage and strength.




    1
  • Faith
    17.06.2018

    Kwani Peter Welsh is on leave? He hasn’t commented…and yes am a fan 🙂




    0
  • Patsy Mugabi
    18.06.2018

    Reminds me of a popular post on this corner of the internet; God is such a gentleman!




    0

What do you think?

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *