It was only a matter of time before I had to do a piece on this guy. My dad. A born story-teller, he loves passing on his wisdom by sharing the tales of his life. His story needs to be told and so here I am….
Stan: The Life of the party
Why lie. He’s the kind of guy you want in your function. A true people person. Always making people laugh with his endless stories and great personality. Wish I was more like him in this respect. He treats all visitors to the house as his own. Once a friend of mine visited me and as I was seeing him off he mentioned to me that if he had ever wondered how life was like in the sixties, he now had a detailed graphic in 3D, thanks to my dad. 😀 He worked at Kenya Broadcasting Corp & likes to say that they paid him to talk for 30 years so we should cut him a little slack if he gets carried away, ha ha. His stories are not just entertaining, but are filled with wisdom. Recently, he had me laugh myself to tears when he told Kevo & myself a story about when he was young & reckless. He used to be a drunkard and one time after a drinking spree (sometime in the ’70’s I guess) he blacked out on Kenyatta Avenue in the middle of the night. Easy prey, thieves made away with his cash, shoes & jacket. They would have taken all his clothes but perhaps they feared the cold would wake him up before they were done with him. So in the early hours of the morning when he came to his senses, he decided that the only way to get home was to walk all the way. From Kenyatta Avenue to Uhuru Estate. Without shoes! LOL So he set off and would have done so, just that he met someone he knew who gave him bus fare. Of course he told the guy how thugs had attacked him etc.
Stan: The Includer
He he he. Couldn’t get a better word for this because that’s just what he does…he includes people. You draw a circle to get him out of your life; he draws an even bigger circle and includes you back in it. Even me. All the time. Glad to have a earthly dad who reminds me of my heavenly daddy. There’s this neighbour of ours who hooked him up with someone who needed some major landscaping/renovation done at his house. Three weeks later, when my dad and his crew completed the job & got paid by the property owner, this neighbour started to harass my morning, noon & night in his booming army voice…much nonsense about how dad’s cut was too big; he didn’t do such a good job anyway & doesn’t deserve to be paid; how he can make sure dad never gets another job from this guy…on & on. You know what my dad did? One evening after listening to another tirade over the phone from this neighbour, he went over & gave him all the money he got from the job. Just like that. With no hard feelings. If I could, I would have stopped him. Actually I tried coz I couldn’t get it. He ended up paying his crew from his own pocket and for all his labour got nothing. Made profit in the negative. Dad’s workers wanted to jump the guy and beat him up but my dad would have none of it. The very next day dad said hi to the neighbour as he was passing by and to this day still considers him a friend. They continue to serve in church together, and to dad it’s as if nothing ever happened.
Stan: The Disciplinarian??
Now he rarely used to pick up the stick but when he did, woe unto you! It was usually my mom’s job to instil discipline but on occasion he would step in. While mom was more spontaneous & creative with her discipline styles, dad was more methodical. One afternoon, he carved some nice bamboo sticks from the fence for each of us; waxed them to make them smooth and put them in storage. Every time you committed a crime, he would send you to get your stick and then proceed to give you a few. Usually it was nothing serious and he did it in such a way that we actually looked forward to it: kinda like a game. But like my sister Cat once found out that he could get lethal. He used to come from work at about 6.30pm every evening and would of course expect to find us kids in the house doing homework or something. Now Cat had this very interesting habit of coming from school but not getting into the house immediately because when she did she’d have to stay in and that was boring. So she would throw her bag, shoes & socks over the fence into the back yard where they couldn’t be seen by anyone entering by the front door. Yeah, those were the days we could play on the streets of Buru with no shoes on. Anyway, on more than one occasion, she got carried away and forgot to beat dad to the house. Dad repeatedly warned her not to repeat it but to an 11 year-old with an active social life….hehe. One day dad came in at his usual time and asked if Cat was in the house. When the helper said no, he quietly went upstairs to put away his stuff. Then went quietly to the loquat tree in the back yard and carved a nice cane. Then he quietly sat in the living room and waited. My sister was about to face armageddon. She waltzed in a few minutes after 7pm and met Stan the disciplinarian. Cat, any comments?
Stan: Salt of the Earth
I wasn’t sure what this term means but somehow I thought it was a good way to describe my dad. So I googled “salt of the earth” to find out exactly what it means. Yahoo answers gave me the best definition: “one of the nicest, most genuine, caring, considerate human beings you will meet” Now that’s my dad.
He loves much; cares much and gives much. He will gladly give you his last shilling just so you can be happy. Even my cousins love him so much that a few months back a whole bunch of them surprised dad with a visit just to hang out with him & be a blessing to him. He was soo happy and I’m so grateful to them because it’s like they have become his other children. The other day I told them thank you for “adopting” him.
Stay tuned for part 2