When David* lost his first wife in 2002, life took a whole new meaning for him. Apart from having to deal with the accompanying grief, he also had to learn to be both the father and the mother to his son. He was 26 when he suddenly became a widower. His son, Michael, was only two years old then.
“After my wife’s burial, I cleared my mind, rolled up my sleeves, and stared at life with a brave face. What else could I do,” he says. Perhaps there was something he could do: Allow his female relatives to adopt his son and provide him with the crucial motherly love that death had cruelly taken away from him. After all, Ngure recalls, many offered “to take the boy under their wing and bring him up.” That way, they hoped to save him the hustle of having to be a mother.
But he declined the offers. He was convinced that he had what it took to be the best father (and mother if need be) to his own son. “I was ready to raise him by myself. I didn’t know how, but I knew I wanted to be part of his life every day,” he says with a smile: “My first instinct was to maintain normalcy as much as I could. We went out at weekends; played in the house; engaged in chit-chat.”
All these intimate interactions brought them closer. Michael had not really grasped the reality of their situation. He was only two. In the meantime, though, Ngure had to deal with people’s opinions coming from different quarters. He grew tired of being questioned about how they were fairing on. He took his son to school, fed him, bought him the right clothes, played with him and administered discipline. He has no memory of an incident where he was not able to provide his son with basic needs. Like he would find out later, being a single-parent father while dating is hard. Four years had passed and he longed to have a partner to share his life with. “I have this deep belief about a complete family. I value the lives of a mother, father and children together. Having another woman in my life would ‘complete’ me and give my son a mother figure,” he says.
He courted a woman. From the relationship came forth a daughter. The union couldn’t, however, hold after disagreements. But he was not about to give up yet. He met another woman who he married in a lavish wedding at Windsor Club, Nairobi. “It was a befitting wedding. I wore a kilt,” he says with nostalgia.
It was not long before the marriage began experiencing turbulence. Suddenly, there was a rift between him and his wife. It created a fissure through which all the happiness dissipated. Eventually, his wife took off, essentially separating them. Ngure is yet to get the hang of what happened but he suspects “my attention could have been misplaced within the house”.
He confesses that throughout his life – post-the demise of his first wife – his fatherly love and parental instincts have made him protect Michael. At the back of Ngure’s mind though lay dread, having been raised by a single mother after she separated with his father. “The first time I met my father, I was in Form Three. I looked at him. Asked him what happened but none of what he said was convincing. I never wanted my son to live without a father like I did,” he says.
Michael, a shy 14-year-old, right on the cusp of adolescence, gives his father ten out of ten on his parenting. “He is the best father. We do things together: Watch TV, eat, play,” says the Grade 9 student under the British education system, IGCSE. He now understands that his mother died. His father couldn’t keep it from him for long. He recalls the painful times his peers have asked him where his mother is: why she has never been seen.
“I tell them that she died... just like that. But it bothers me sometimes,” Michael says. Father and son have come to cherish each other’s company. Years of experience have made them best friends. What frustrates Ngure, though, is that he has no one to parent his son with. “I don’t know if how I am bringing him up is fine or not. There is no one to tell me when I make a mistake. Thus far, though, I know I have given my son the best a father could offer under these circumstances,” he says.
Ngure wishes his son a future better than his: that Michael would grow up to meet the right woman for himself and they would work out their lives together. Raising his son alone has been challenging. “It has not been easy. I don’t want people getting any crazy ideas. A child is best brought up by both parents. But if the situation forces the presence of only one, do your best,” he advises.
Ngure has always dreamt of being the best father to Michael, but he gave up on doubling up as his mother too. “I will never be his mother; no one will ever be his mother. She left a void that only she can fill. It is a reality that both of us will live with. I can only focus on what I can give him,” he notes. Outside the house is a basketball court. Michael loves the game. His favourite, though, is football. Agile and energetic, he dribbles past his father with ease. This is how their bond has cemented every day since the tragedy. About 10 yards away is the grave where Michael’s mother was laid to rest.
Grass has colonised the soil over it. It is difficult to notice it. For Ngure and his son, it is all in the past.
Disclaimer!! This story was first published on The Standard in 2015