We often speak of our Mom; her unending love towards us, how she could connect with our souls, how good her food can make us want more. The list is endless of how much we can go on and on speaking of the love from our mothers that we forget the sacrifices of the fathers.
Sometimes it is not our fault that we don't speak much about their unending sacrifices; that shadow behind the curtains. We had a personal time with mom, we had conversations every moment with her. She was always there for us; this developed a great bond between us and her.
Our dad on the other hand was always working, giving his all to make sure we had everything we ever wanted. Worked his socks off, sweated to put the food on the table but beyond the normal "Daddy thank you" after a meal, did we thank him enough for all the sacrifices?
To him, the sacrifices were a way of showing us how much he really did love us. But we could never understand as kids until we grew older.
What changed my mindset to see this shadow behind the curtain, how did I see the importance of this quiet backbone?
A real story of a man who lived a block from us made me see everything clearly and I would love to share this story with us.
Mr Daniel, a frail looking man in his 60s lived a block from us. He worked as a night guard in a school in our street. He always made sure he arrived there by 6pm and stayed awake mostly through the night then goes back home in the mornings.
I worked in the school as a teacher, so I usually talked to Baba (we wouldn't dare call him Mr Daniel as it will be disrespectful) sometimes whenever I came to work early in the morning.
I didn't like that he was a night guard, I was usually disturbed and out of empathy, I would just fold some notes into his hands to get breakfast before he goes home. Baba was a jolly fellow, hardworking and very diligent in his work.
He had a wife too who at the time was a trader...she would always go to the market while he goes to his farm in the afternoon and then gets back to work by 6pm everyday. This went on and on even when he was not feeling well. Most times, he hides that he is unwell to avoid people's sympathies. I couldn't understand why he didn't also tell our boss, was he afraid that his money won't be paid in full if he took permission to stay back? I would never know his reasons.
On a certain Thursday, there was a grande celebration in his compound and since we were neighbours, my family was invited by Baba. He told us his daughter was getting married. Wow, Baba has a daughter? I thought out aloud. On the Thursday, there were lot of cars, big canopies, wealthy men and women were flocking in Baba's compound. I was happy for Baba. But during the ceremony, I observed that Baba didn't only have a daughter but 4 children; three daughters and a son. I was perplexed and astonished to know this.
During the event I noticed that Mr Daniel was present but never noticed. He was always behind the camera, never in the pictures. Apart from the bride price tucked in his wrapper, his smiles were just a cover-up, he hardly said anything during the event. He made sure everyone ate but he went without food. His attempt to laugh was often masked by the loud voices in the room. And when everyone was appreciated for their efforts, Baba's name was hardly mentioned.
3 years passed after the event and Baba was critically ill, he couldn't come to work any longer. We did all we could to support him but his health was going down. After months of beckoning, his children all came to see him on his sick bed. With a frail voice, he smiled as he touched them and called them by their pet names.
He reminded them how he had to do three jobs just to make sure they ate three times daily. How he always pretended to be full just to pass the last meal to them to eat while he goes out to work for the next meal. Nobody knew what the quiet backbone had to go through. His sacrifices were so silent like the air.
He reminded them of how he made sure they all went to the best schools, he went on rags so they can wear the best uniforms.
Baba was never the centre of the story. He was the soil beneath the tree, the silent foundation which held the house. They listened as he went on to remind them how he always said he was fine even when he was really sick. But he knew if he fell sick, there will be no food on their tables, there will be no money for their fees.
Baba never needed thanks, he did it because he loved them. All they saw was a father who was always going out, who comes back in the nights and goes out in the mornings, only had time for them on a Sunday. They thought he didn't want to be with them but he was always present.
They sat there in silence, guilt thicken in the air.
But when they finally said Thank you Dad, We are sorry we didn't see it all; he smiled and told them that they saw it but didn't know how to say it.
They all held his hands as he took his last breathe with a smile on his face...He was happy that the children could see his sacrifices; the sacrifices that always goes unnoticed.
The man who was never remembered but yet the man who gave everything.
Just like the popular quote "Not all heroes capes, some wear sweat, dust and silence"
This story changed my perspective about my dad. I could see his sweat, I could finally see his struggles and every thank you from my mouth had a meaning.
The sacrifices of our fathers usually go unnoticed but we always have to know that they are the pillar of the family, the backbone, the foundation to which we stand.
A deep thank you to all Fathers who have sacrificed for us all.
