Honouring Parents

My parents are humble and hard-working folks. They have brought up my brothers and I to be educated, responsible, God-fearing and law-abiding citizens. When we were growing up, they had us go to church every Sunday and work hard in school. They sacrificed the little they had so that we could have a decent education. And tell me, what greater gift than education can parents bestow to their children?

For me, I can never thank my parents enough for all they have done for me. They have always been there for me for as long as I can remember. My mother carried me in her womb for nine good months. Then she endured 57 del (units) of pain when she was giving birth to me on 31st December 1987. It is said that those 57 del of pain are similar to 20 bones getting fractured at the same time.

I am thinking that had my mother been careless in her pregnancy with me and during my birth, I would have been born with such serious congenital diseases as cerebral palsy. But I am grateful to her and God that as I write this story, I am as healthy as an angel and feeling as frisky as a lamb.

And then after I successfully emerged into this world on the last day of 1987, my mother was always there for me in the first two fragile years of my life. She had to breastfeed me whenever I cried and change my nappies whenever I wetted them. I must have disturbed her from her sleep and duties on numerous occasions.

When I grew old enough to feed and bathe myself, my mother was still there for me by ensuring I had proper clothes to wear and food on the table. Day after day, I watched her wake up in the morning to go run her modest grocery in my hometown of Kiserian. Thanks to her efforts, I never went begging for food and money in the streets.

My father has also played a pivotal role in my life. When I was in primary school, he tutored me in maths right from Standard One so that I could excel in school. He also encouraged me to be a writer by making me pen compositions and read novels. I guess it is from those humble efforts in penning compositions and reading children's novels back in the '90s that I developed a love for writing and storytelling.

When I joined Starehe Boys' Centre in 2002 for my high school education, my father regularly visited me just to check on how I was doing and leave me with some pocket money. And I noted during my last weeks in high school in 2005 as I sat for the mighty KCSE exams, he visited me more frequently which revealed how deeply he wanted me to ace the exams. He was so proud of me when I scored an 'A' in the KCSE exams that he bought me a quality polo shirt as a reward.

Then when I entered Starehe Institute in 2006 to pursue a diploma in information technology, my father encouraged me to apply to top colleges in the United States. He paid for my SAT exams that are a requirement for applying to those top colleges, and he bought me revision books for the tests. Unfortunately, I didn't get accepted to any of the four colleges I applied for admission.

And then when I went astray at a local university called JKUAT in 2008 and again at the University of Nairobi in 2011, my father always accompanied me to the universities' clinics when I went for regular check-ups. It speaks volumes of how responsible he is, doesn't it?

Today, I am blessed to still have my parents alive. My mother has long since stopped running her grocery in Kiserian after she suffered a stroke in 2013. She stays at home where she is still recuperating from that stroke. But my father still works as a freelance accountant in Nairobi where he commutes to during some weekdays.

Because I am now more tech-savvy than my parents, they usually ask me to help them in operating their smartphones, especially my mother. And my father sometimes requests me to assist him when he gets stuck in his computer. To tell you the truth, I never get irritated or tired of helping them because after all they have done for me, I feel it's the best I can do for them at the moment when I am still staying with them at our rustic home here in Kiserian.

My dear reader, if one or both of your parents are still alive, I challenge you to also honour them in the best way you can. Don't wait till they die to do so. Why take their bodies to a mortuary when they never saw a hospital while sick? Why suits when they are dead yet they wore torn clothes when they lived? Why buy them comfortable caskets when their beds were a punishment? Why hire a limo for their caskets when you never even bought them a wheelbarrow? Why cement their graves while they lived in leaking houses? And why last respect when they never knew it while alive?

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UPDATE: I have updated the picture-quote accompanying the story titled "Proof That God Exists" which I wrote sometime back. Please click that link in blue to view the picture and reread the story. I am sure you'll like it better the way it is now.