I was very young when I started asking about my father. We lived in a compound house. Every household had a man in it. A man who was in control of the affairs of the household. We had none. All I had was my mother.
I saw her going to the market early in the morning and coming back late in the night. In the afternoon when I returned from school, I would join her in the market. That’s where I would have my lunch and also do my homework. In the evening, I would help her pack all the things into the warehouse before we set off from the market to the house. Whatever I needed, she provided. We were a two-man band—me and my mother.
But I wasn’t fulfilled. I looked at what went on in the households around us and wanted the same thing. I wanted a man in our house. In school, people talked about their fathers; “My father bought me this and that.” My father took me to this place and that place.” “My father…” “My father…” When it got to my turn to speak, I said, “My mother…” At some point, my friends turned on me; “Why is it always your mother? Don’t you have a father who does something for you?”
So I came home with questions for my mother; “Where’s dad? Everyone has a father so where’s mine When I was very young the answer was, “He has traveled. When he comes you would see him. When anyone asks you, tell them your dad has…..Read Full Story Here……