I
usually try to refrain from jumping onto bandwagon celebrations. But for some
reason, this fathers’ day appears to have gotten me thinking many things. There
are things we often take for granted. The provisions. The guidance. Life's choices.
And many others.
I
remember trying out something cheeky in my primary school – Primary Two – to be
specific. One day, I woke up and decided I was done with the name I had been
baptized with, more than six years earlier. My dad was cool with it, partly
because (I think) I had posted good results that term.
A
couple of years later, someone came visiting, and had carried with him a
secondary school Atlas. On several pages of the same was a school stamp that
read like "Stolen From Ntare School". I was curious. I wanted to know
what type of school would have such words on its stamp.
I
asked around and got a few clues. Ntare School was one school that had nurtured
many big people in the country. There were university professors all over the
place singing the School’s praises. The cabinet had many of them, too, and M7
was still the beacon of hope for African politics in many a political
observer’s eyes.
My
mind was made up. I was going to Ntare School when I became of age. I had a
word with my dad, and he was okay with it – as long as I got the grades to take
me there.
As
luck would have it, I managed to get the grades and joined Ntare. Fast forward
to six years later, it was decision time again. I sat with my old man and we
talked career choices. He was all traditional and cautious.
He
wanted me to do one of those prestigious courses, somewhere along the lines of
Engineering, Pharmacy and Medicine (I was doing PCB/M, so all options were still
viable).
I
told him I would be going for IT, a relatively new course that not many knew
much about at the time (Inspired by one Samuel Kukiriza, a high school idol of
mine). We talked at length, and I was finally able to convince him. As long as
I got the course on government sponsorship, he said. Such was his tolerance. He
has always respected my choices.
At
the same time, he was one of the greatest disciplinarians I ever saw. We were
always the best of friends as long as I was not in the wrong. But things would
become bloody if he ever got me trying to be funny (hehe). He was such an
excellent executor of the carrot and stick approach.
At
times I felt he was being too strict with me and things. But I would appreciate
much later every time I looked back to the stuff I had gone through. I remember
him warning me against being one dimensional once I got to campus.
Things
had changed, he said. While he had a ready job after almost every stage of his
education, there was a possibility of roaming the streets for years with no job
in sight in our days.
I
had to think outside the box. After all, I was already above 18, and free to
make decisions of my own, he stressed. Throughout my entire life, it was clear
he never wished to see himself raise a mollycoddle. Today, he remains one of my
best friends.
Happy
fathers’ day to the best father I know.
Dan A.