The MAN in the house...

I was raised by a MAN

Since the day I opened my eyes there was a MAN in the house, his voice was louder, a giant over shadowing everything and everyone I could lay my eyes on.

The first distinctive feature was that I did not see him as much other people around me, secondly he was not as friendly and open as those who embraced me often. As I  grew I began to understand what is this MAN’s role in my life and how are we supposed to relate, he was my Father, a god that I must kneel down to which is a practice and a custom that was enforced by my early teachings; honour your Mother and your Father so your days might be stretched.

My admiration of him was from a distance, when he talked everybody listened, when he demands he gets, the way he dressed, the circles he blew to the sky from his tobacco what a man I would say. All this was topped by the respect he commanded from his peers, always addressing him respectfully.

In my hour of need I would sob at my mother’s lap uncontrollably, she would say weep not my son it is at your father’s feet where you need to kneel. It is not surprising then that I waited for my moment and his time in his Kingdom to be finally initiated in a passage to manhood, that moment never arrived sadly…

Instead of being on stage with my father I became a spectator in his theatre of self-negated, self-portrayed and self-directed episodes characterised by painful, joyful and colourful content. All the ecstasy and the madness that depicted the landscape of this masterpiece of misdirected choreography presented under shaded light and cameras rolling only on festive seasons became a reference point in my life as I was awakening to manhood.

My father lived his life independent of mine which left me with an option to depend on his life or to depend on my independence, he chose actions over words and he lessons generally came through his presence and more directly through his long absence. I was raised by a powerful MAN, his words were as powerful as his silence and his presence was as infectious as his absence.

Today I am the MAN, I know this to be true because I watched my father’s play to its conclusion although I chose a different character to his but the role and the script is the same. The stage setting has changed though and there are new supporting roles and characters, for his role and character in a soap opera of his life I gave him a standing ovation when the curtains were finally rolled down.

I wonder if my son who is growing in my total absence will give me a standing ovation when the curtains finally come down on my performance…