As it happens, this Father’s Day falls exactly a month after my dad’s 90th birthday. As a family, we looked forward to a day we saw and still see as a huge blessing, because we only need lift our heads to appreciate the blessing of still having our dad with us. So, it was going to be a gathering to mark the day mainly through acknowledgement of the divine Hand that decreed the milestone will happen.
However, because my make-up is influenced by frequent reminders from Mummy that “Man proposes, God disposes”, and the military logistician’s understanding of the need for flexibility in planning, I approached the day appreciating 90 years as a lot of living anywhere, and unbelievably huge in Sierra Leone. As it turned out, my father who has been and continues to be confirmation that “Dads share wisdom with their children in the hopes they spread it throughout the world”, was about to teach me a few more lessons through experiences around his big birthday.
Anyway, let me first digress briefly with a reminder not many of you will need. Five days before Daddy turned 90, I turned 61. Because of the oppprtunity to prove, like Daddy keeps trying to do, that aging can be defied, it was an early rise to the sun and heat of Sierra Leone in order to physically match the metaphorical feeling of being on top of the world. For anyone who doesn’t know it, Freetown’s Leicester Peak is just the place to do that. So, getting quickly into my running gear so the sun didn’t get too happy before I got too tired, I started the 16 kilometre (10 mile) run to and from Leicester Peak.
To paraphrase the great preacher, and bear with me as I’ll eventually land, I got to the mountain top and saw the land that sadly remains an elusive promise. A quick look at my watch confirmed I got to the turnaround point faster than I had ever done. This launched me on the descent with the idea of breaking my record while weary that breaking a leg was an associated risk. Eventually, complete with painful ankle due to bad twist not far from home, I crossed the finish line just under 12 minutes faster than my previous best time. It turned out to be a matter of the numbers proving age is just a number.
Leicester Peak always gets me reflecting. I thought about missed opportunities as I looked from a distance at the potential beauty that I knew close up confirms “nice from far but far from nice” is a reality. I felt saddened by all the incomprehensible poverty I had just run past and would confirm as real on the return leg. My knowledge of Sierra Leone’s unrealised, wasted and exploited wealth, and the beauty of its topography, left me wondering how so much promise contained and fuelled so much despair.
I remembered people lost since my previous birthday: Tejan (T.Y.) Mansaray – a cousin who fought hard to stay with us but had to leave; Lahai Magona – the uncle who enabled my childhood zest; Salia Magona – an uncle I sparred with on security matters in Sierra Leone; Colin Powell – the General who inspired me through wisdom-packed nuggets; Jennifer Smith – peace in human form, and many more.
On the positive, I thought about all the people I still have: my parents – unconditional love; my siblings – unfailing in their affection, respect and support; aunties and uncles – every one needs an ‘Aunty Ejatu’, and an ‘Uncle Abdul’ is not a bad idea either; my many cousins including Adama and Ramatu – my sustainment plan, Mariama Whitmore and Aminata Kamara – our Gbombana Princesses, Miss Miriam Conteh-Morgan – a solid big sister; my friends – William Clarkson aka Manga – 50 years of brotherliness; the Kalo Kalo boys – enduring good value and “rankaness”; my neices and nephews – my heartbeats and collective pension plan; my sisters-in-law Awa (Big Wef) and Aji Fatou – sisters from other mothers; young Vicky Jeffers – who so effortlessly stepped into my heart. There were also thoughts about most of you reading this. The people with wisdoms that continue to teach me, humour that feeds my need for laughter, and kindness that sustains hope in me. A special mention has to go to Plummer Bamasa Bailor for that personalised rendition of Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’. Now let’s do the drum roll… Geilo Tucker – the guardian of my emotional wellbeing who says it best when she says nothing at all.
Satisfied with myself, I later that morning, accompanied by my siblings, went to see the two people who brought me into world and found them pleased to have their first issue with them on his birthday. However, it was obvious Daddy wasn’t feeling 100%. Typhoid fever had come his way about five days earlier and was bothering him. We did the hangout with the “olds” till late afternoon before getting admin sorted and going to meet Manga for an evening chill out on the roof garden of the Freetown City Council building. I was again looking down at the same city from a different angle and in the generosity of the night’s lights. Hopefully, out of the darkness will come out the light.
Fast forward a few days, Daddy got worse and two days before his big day I was speeding through Freetown’s rush hour traffic to get him to Choithram’s Memorial Hospital. Within 30 minutes of getting to the hospital I was hundreds of thousands of leones lighter and getting told Daddy needed to be admitted to the intensive care unit. Ismael was with me and we processed the detail and kept Idris and Orya posted. Daddy seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I guess at nearly 90 you have seen enough to not get excited every time the wind blows.
So it turned out that Daddy did his 90th birthday in intensive care, but with a brief 30 minutes in the family room where he was able to have a laugh with us, pray for the familes of other patients, and do video and telephone calls to mum and a few people. He made it out of intensive care the next day for a ward that got me thinking about transit accommodation in rundown barracks. What else was I supposed to think after I asked why the bed hadn’t been made and got told it had been made?
As my siblings and I went through the hassle of trying to get the best care for father, I contextualised and reminded them that our partners as well as many of our cousins and friends would give much to be in our position; have a father to fuss and worry over. All we went through prior to and during his stay in hospital was confirmation of the blessing we have. Further contextualising and “feeling the rain” followed that.
Our father being ill was a brutal education of the challenges faced by Sierra Leoneans. What I spent on the first day was about 20% higher than the gross monthly salary of a Lieutenant Colonel in Sierra Leone’s armed forces. Seeing people get to the pharmacy to get drugs a family member needed only to walk away to go “gedda me sef first” (regroup) was heartbreaking. How do people get cared for if they can’t fund the care they need? There was also the infrastructure of what is one of the best hospitals in the country. I looked around and wondered how we could talk about needing beautiful bridges, think deploying motorcades like they are going out of fashion is OK, and excuse putting state coffers under the enormous strain of funding international trips.
In regard to my father’s illness which we are grateful became more of a discomfort, I processed the cruel irony of a man sacrificing so much to ensure safe drinking water was a reality for Sierra Leoneans, only to be afflicted by an illness whose source is in unsafe water. I wondered how many lives of all ages had been lost due to decades of corruption-enabled incompetence and mismanagement of the abundant water supplies of Sierra Leone; a fact I was reminded of as I ran past leaking pipes on all my runs.
Well, I know our mother, my siblings and our family continue to be grateful for the life of our father. His life continues to be a manifestation of many things, and confirms that “A great father is no great man unless his child respects him.” His greatness comes not just out of what he has done for his children and family, but also from what he tried to do for Sierra Leone. Our experiences of him, including while he was in hospital, is parenting that looks ahead to when he can no longer look after or be there for us. His professional life was and continues to include what will be after him.
So, to all the fathers of families and fathers of nations out there, let it be about them and not just about you.
Happy Father’s Day Okabay… and to all the fathers worthy of recognition.
© Othame Kabia