By Pacharo Felix Munthali
How fast time creeps. How I wished I had written a dispatch. How I wished, just the way I celebrated with mater familias, yes mum, I celebrated with you as well father. Just to equate the equation. How I wish I had showed how ineffably I treasure you. With the opening of this arena, the only platform my heart can let out all the weighing issues, I beg to move a motion; how I look up to you, papa.
Father! You are the only thing, 50% of my parent; bible says you are second to the most Highness, my life had ever known. I still remember those sunny days, probably when I was in standard one or two, tired due to the sweltering sun, me coming from school, you sited under the Mango tree, you used to invite me before I even lay my hands on Kondowole Nsima.
“Pacharo, come over here!” with pride of your son beyond description, you could call, me hungry, inside myself cursing.
Then you used to go through all the exercises of the day and when it happened that I have failed even a single problem; justice of its own magnitude was done. You always wanted your son to be an achiever, even when the going is getting tough. How times change father!
How I cherish those moments when you forced me to grasp politics of a clock, knowing that its 12:30 PM before reaching the age of Four. Mind you those were the late 80s when but few nursery schools were there.
The better part of my cheeks you enjoyed. It may sound harsh, but you had a reason. Not just a reason but also a well-calculated reason. A vision for that matter. You wanted your son at least he should be someone in life. You wanted your son to be a kind of individual that would brave the most perplexing situations, and burry them to the valley of pessimism.
Now as am facing even more hurdles, forcing me sleepless nights, sweating to the heat of the enigmas, which is now a new predicament in need of a solution, those words of courage keep on rekindling. As I swim through the turbulent waters, full of crocodiles, with the aim of silencing me, my life wears well-equipped arsenals. “Of course you can be whatever you want. Go, fear nobody, you are an architect of your own destiny,” these words keep on resurfacing whenever I choke with stumbling obstacles.
At times I feel like going mad, when I do a mistake, thinking at how you went mad when I failed to do something the way it was supposed to be.
Father! You are great. For long time fathers have not been considered in many ways. Some fathers in total silence have and are still, being subjected to gender based violence. Good volumes of slaps they are receiving. Of course, crying due to their wayward behaviours, though not all, but you father you were unique. With mum and children we lived happily.
Father! I adore you. And you will still remain the one that I will always keep in mind. You are my hero in the making.
As the count down continues to the day we will be commemorating the fathers’ day, papa all I can say is that you deserve the day. Let the day come and let fathers dance to tunes of their success ranging from raising children into productive citizens, or potentially productive, to their own good life. Let the day come and let commemoration of great fathers of Malawi be remembered, who for one reason or another lost their lives for the love of their families or the nation. Let the day come, when together with fathers we will dance to the tunes of Chintali, Malipenga, Ingoma, Tchopa, and Beni. Let the day come.
By Pacharo Felix Munthali
P.O. Box 280