Growing up, i saw my father do strange things.
1 . One night I sneaked into his room and I met him lay bare flat on the floor. He had no shirts on, just his shorts. He stumped his hands recklessly on the floor as he groaned. I could tell he was crying. Sweat springing out of his pores almost making a pool. All I heard him say was, "God of Israel, have mercy on me."
He did that for over what seemed like an hour. Same posture. Same utterance.
2 . Before he makes every meal, he mutters some words over the ingredients and after serving the food, we would always hold hands to pray.
3 . One Monday, I was driven out of school because I hadn't balanced my school fees. That meant I wasn't going to take my examination. I cried to his shop, not knowing what to do. Dad looked at me and smiled. Yes, he smiled. He handed me the bread on his desk and told me not to worry.
"The birds of the air do not sow or reap, yet they have all they need..." He had said taking a piece of paper and a pen, "Let's write this down to the God is Israel..." He scribbled some things down in his brown Jotter and placed it beneath his Ox Blood KIng James Bible.
The next day, I was in school with my fees paid in full. We had no money but everything we needed, he writes in that jotter and places them beneath that Bible.
4 . There were days when all he did was cry alone. Particularly moments he held a picture of my late mum. Her portrait was the only image in the sitting room.
He would stand right in front of it for a moment, smile and then cry. He loved her very much. Though I never fully understood the depth of that love. But I knew death snatched something that meant the whole world to me.
After every tale about her, he would end with, "Your mother was the best...but the God of Israel knows best..." And I believe him; sounds too true to be a lie.
5 . Two days to my 10th birthday, I fell ill. Terribly ill I was near death.
After the sickness had defiled so many pills, dad rushed me to the hospital carrying me on his back.
All He did was sing songs to God. According to him, at the hospital there was no doctor in sight.
Finally, he literally carried me home, dying. He raced into his room and brought our his white shirt, the one he wore to play the guitar in the choir and dressed me. He gave me a Communion of biscuit and tea, calling it the blood and body of Jesus.
That was how I recuperated.
6 . What shall I say of that cold night? I was barely ten. Innocently, I stood right in front of the giant mirror in the sitting room, dressed in my father's big t-shirt, buckled a belt around my waist, made a scarf out of my shirt and I was catwalking on invisible heels.
Dad caught me, dragged me to his room and gave me the beating of my life.
Apparently he had intentions of killing the girl he walkied in to see and keep his son alive.
Did he Succeed? Well, maybe.
7 . I saw my cousin, victor die on my father's lap. I was crying and wailing. I thought I had lost him.
We had neighbors gather in our small room. He held the child. And suddenly, he jerked up, jacked the boy to his room.
Guess what he was doing? Dancing; Dancing to no song, just his tambourine and a rhythm I couldn't decipher.
I dozed off on a neighbor's lap. I got up to the news that victor had gone home.
Home must be the farthest place that exist because my late mum also journeyed home.
8 . I had rewards for everything! All my little wins had something attached.
My bicycle - I got it after reciting names of God from A-Z
20 strokes of cane - For shouting back at him one saturday
My Scrabble - I got that after singing "On Christ the solid Rock" from start to finish without the hymn book.
Six-to-six fast - For secretly reading an erotic novel at fifteen.
In all these things...
9 . Mr. Daniel is my father. The one man who had the life he wanted for me and I had to conform.
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