The wishes of a single mother

She was awakened by the sound of the alarm clock buzzer. She then stretched her hand reaching the bedside table where she had placed the clock a few hours earlier and immediately turned it off. She had set the alarm to sound at 11am when she returned home at 6.30am from her night shift.

This Monday morning though, she would not have the luxury of a full 8 hours’ sleep. She was supposed to be the one picking her son from school today. She had done this at least once every year. Being a single mother, she let her son live with her parents as her parents believed they offered a much better environment for the growth of the child.

Five years earlier when she had just moved out of her parents’ house and moved to the nurses’ flats in the clinic compound, her mother had expressed concern when the child then only aged 5 had told them that his mother had introduced him to three uncles who came to her flat on different nights. He had mentioned Uncle Sheikh, Uncle Ibrahim and Uncle Horace. The grand parents were further incensed when the toddler had mentioned that his mother had even asked him to call the three ‘uncles’ as ‘daddy’.

The grand parents had then asked that the toddler moves back with them where he had lived since he was born. With her son back at her parents’ house, she was just asked to find time for her son at least on his birthday. She saw him once in a while at her parents’ house but on this one particular day she always picked him to go to her flat. The day was always - his birthday. She would usually throw a small party where all the children at the nurses’ flats complex would be invited.

In the five years that followed since she moved to her own flat, she dated a countless number of guys all of which nothing concrete materialized. In the end she gave up on guys. “All men are dogs,” she would say. For a period of time she stopped dating and got on her life declaring herself as an independent woman. She was heard regularly playing Destiny Child’s song independent women the soundtrack to the movie Charlie’s angels.

She would truly live up to her new found independence as she was regularly seen in clubs with her girls having fun. They didn’t need a man to have fun. She had purchased a state of the art Mini Cooper auto mobile which she always kept immaculately clean. When she went to report for duty she would disembark from her Germany made British car exuding great confidence. Her confidence resonated with her personality and she was once more the lovable person everyone wanted to be close to. She was totally different from the bitch with an attitude she once was when she jumped from one failed relationship to the other.

So on this Bright sunny but chilly Monday morning, she quickly had a shower and as she walked back to her bedroom she remembered that her son’s birthday party would not be held at the nurses’ quarters this year but at her parent’s place. A thought quickly rushed through her mind – ‘maybe the boy needs a father figure’. ‘No way, Fuck it’ the thought was quickly overruled by other thoughts.

She remembered how she had been in love with the boy’s father. They were really inseparable for the better part of the first year that they met. Things quickly unfolded for the worst as soon as she had gotten pregnant and given birth. She also remembered that he had been a fool that prowled on her naivety as a young girl. He was only ever interested in having sex with her. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times they ever just went at the cinema to watch a movie together. They spent most of their time at his flat having sex. “He’s such a loser!” she loudly exclaimed. She immediately felt stupid for talking to herself loudly and letting her thoughts wander back through her past. Then she realized she needed to prepare quickly in order to be ready in time to collect her son from school.

When she was done with all her preparations, she realized she still had half an hour to spare so she sat down and pulled out her old diary. She opened a particular page and started to read what she had written down three year earlier.

God there are a lot of people I could blame for my situation; the government for not creating enough opportunities for youths, my friends for introducing me to the life of alcohol and parties, my first boyfriend for making me a mother at a very young age… the list is endless. But there is no need in blaming everyone else but myself, because I bear the biggest responsibility for what has happened to me.

I had been a regular girl who up until the time I completed secondary school, had never known what dating was all about. I made sure my energies were directed only towards my studies. For the first three months after completing my secondary school, I devoted my time to visiting friends and when I was home I read a lot of Novels. But the Secondary school examination results back then would only be available after six months so that meant at the very minimum having a six month gap period before deciding on the next course of action. In fact most school leavers would take a full gap year which in essence was 14 months since secondary school examinations are completed around November.

After three months, I had visited most of my friends and most had visited me too. Then, I met a very attractive young man. He was in his early 20’s and I was an 18 year old school leaver taking a gap year. I had never dated before so technically he became my first boyfriend. The early days were really wonderful times. He always held me in his protective hands. He was such a good kisser I remember. Nothing on earth felt as perfect as going to his flat and falling asleep on his side on the couch or lying naked in his bed. 

BUT…life is about growth and change.  After we dated for about a year, I started to feel like he was just clangoring on my naivety. Our relationship was physical and nothing more. We went into a roller-coaster routine of sex all day every Saturday and Sunday. I was looking for more. This was my first boyfriend so I needed to flaunt him to my friend, I needed to take a walk with him at the mall and go out clubbing with him. This happened very rarely.

He didn’t talk much also so if I really wanted a conversation with him it had to be in between sessions of sex. And the routine continued without us embarking on any major new activities. My soul started to yearn for new frontiers and new horizons and this is how I discovered alcohol. When I started to drink alcohol, I quickly substituted the need to spend time with him, for the drink. For a while I had fun until I grew out of it. By then I realized I had already become pregnant. At first I was very upset and I thought this was the greatest mistake I had ever made especially after he broke up with me.

The time after that break up is the worst period of my life. I have never really come to terms with what my life became. I quickly went back to drinking and in between I dated a lot of losers. Yes God most of these men were but just losers. How could I describe guys that preach to love you but show you through actions that they don’t feel it? They cheat with everyone else and even propose love to your very close friends. In the mean time they come back to you and again claim to love you but as time wanes by they don’t nurture that love.

I walked out of every relationship as soon as I saw that the guys didn’t know what love is. Love isn’t calling you a bitch or a hoe at every point you have differences. Love is not being violent to stress your point. And certainly love doesn’t get you pregnant and then leave you. However love is giving your friend a reason to smile in times of adversity. It is a smile in times of loneliness knowing that another human being can care for you and make you feel loved.

So my God today I want to leave everything in your hands. Grant me a man if you really feel I need one. If I don’t need any, please take away the loneliness and let me just serve you. If you have a man for me at your right time, I will await your right time. Let your will be done and not my wishes God. You know what my wishes are and I trust that you will deliver your promise.

All mothers have wishes, but mine are not just for me but my son as well. I wish for my son to grow into a perfect gentleman and not the kind of men I have met in my life. There aren’t that many steadfast men. My wish for my son is that he becomes a dependable, loyal, faithful and trustworthy man. I wish for him to make a girl happy one day. God, how that would make me proud!

I also wish that he can one day make peace with the absence of his father in his life. I know this issue about his father eats at the very core of his soul every day. I hope he doesn’t hold this against me. His father was a man not ready to be a father. He was unprepared for that kind of responsibility. I wasn't prepared to shelter an unprepared parent. My son was not a mistake but a product of love brought to earth to be loved.

My greatest wish is that I learn to love myself more. That I stop looking for love in other things like alcohol or staying in relationships that promise love but deliver hurt which leads to hate. I believe I deserve the best and will only get love from a deserving person worthy of my love. I don’t want a man to complete me; I want a man to just compliment me instead. For my son I make this promise today that I will work hard for him, I will not need a man to define how my life becomes. My son completes me and if my wishes can be granted, then one day I will get a man to compliment me.

A father’s cry!

On the outskirts of the city, a father looks at the calendar and he sees the circled mark on the date which he had put at the beginning of the year. He had been doing this every year. It had become an annual ritual for him, at least for the last 8 years. Every year on New Year’s Day he hang a new calendar on the corridor wall and immediately circled a specific date – 8^th June, the day his only son was born. Then immediately he underlined another date – 15th January, the date he last saw his son almost 8 years before.

As he stood in the corridor looking at the calendar on that bright sunny but chilly 8th June Monday morning, he knew his son was turning 10 on that day. He was pondering on a birthday present most suited for a 10 year old. He then walked to the decorated boys’ bedroom full of toys but never inhabited. He turned his eyes to the side where he had been piling birthday presents every year. First and second year were missing, but three to nine were all there and properly labeled. A bicycle for the fourth year was also missing as it was put at the side beside the entrance where the door hinges bent inwards as the bedroom door opened. There was also a bigger bicycle there which he had bought for himself but was rarely used. He had hoped to cycle alongside his son one day and maybe every day.

The last time he saw his son was 8 and half years ago on a date he vividly remembers -15^th January. The infant was just about 18 months old. The date actually came precisely 6 months after he broke up with it's mother. They had never married but after she conceived it had seemed they would as the pregnancy almost healed all the problems they had in their relationship.

They had met 11 years before that day, and unerringly a year before she conceived. They had enjoyed a very steamy relationship at the beginning. It was a match made in heaven. They were a couple very much in love and forever glued to each other. They never walked an inch away from each other but always seemed to be too attached as they walked hand in hand. But, beyond all the evident affection and physical intimacy lay deep-rooted differences that started to show.

While she enjoyed the time they spent together, they spent too much time at his flat and she started to feel that she wanted more fun. She tried to communicate this to him but he just wouldn’t budge. He made it clear to her that he was an ‘indoors person’ and that it was more romantic to spend time together the two of them intimately as usually happened. “Why go out clubbing?” He would ask. “I don’t like crowds,” he would say. “Besides two is company and three is a crowd.” he would continue, with a tinge of humour.

But she wanted to have more fun. All her friends told stories of the fun they had had at the disco every other weekend. She could only listen in awe as her weekends meant she would be at his flat sitting on his laps dressed at the most in underwear only. The alternatives would be; dressed in nothing and sleeping beside him on his bed or the two of them lay naked in bed his body matching hers, curve into curve, contour on contour each giving as much joy as they were receiving, harmonized upward and downward thrusts variegated by sideways gentle orbit movements as they made love.

One Friday evening, she informed him that she would not be at his flat on Saturday as she would be accompanying her friends for an outing at a popular night spot but that she would go to his flat early in the morning on Sunday. On Sunday morning he was waiting for her but by 11 hours she still hadn’t shown up. Her mobile phone was unreachable. Every twenty minutes he tried calling her line but it was still not reachable. Finally at about 1:30pm he got an auto prompt message on his phone stating that the mobile subscriber he had dialed had now been available. 

He had dialed the number immediately and the phone was answered by an unfamiliar voice then after prodding on who had called the stranger on the other end of the phone had handed it to its owner.  An audibly stupefied voice was heard on the other side of the phone explaining that she had spent the night at her friend’s house and that when she woke up she hadn’t felt too well so she decided to sleep further. She told him that she would take a shower there after eat something before going to his flat.

When she eventually knocked at the door of his flat the time was 5 minutes past 4pm. He had promptly opened the door and immediately realized that her face still looked dazed. He had instantly joked that this was ‘one hell of hang over’ which had lasted almost the whole day. As she settled inside the house she had told him that she suspected this was more than just a hangover. She narrated to him how she had vomited earlier that morning. He had tried to make jokes about her night out drinking and that she had barfed in the morning. Then she dropped the bomb. She suspected she was pregnant. It had been two days since she had been waiting for her menstruation but nothing had happened.

Two days later on a Tuesday evening she had come to his flat and they had confirmed their fears from a pregnancy test which had showed a positive pregnancy result. They had decided to go to the medical clinic the following morning to have a medical person do the test and when that was done it was another positive result. By the time the weekend came again she had accompanied her friends for partying once more though she had promised him that she would just drink mineral water and no alcohol.

In the months that followed, her new found fad for partying continued until a time when her bulging paunch was really big. She had stopped clubbing for a while prior to giving birth but immediately resumed within a month of giving birth. She would leave the infant with her mother and be about town with her friends every Friday and Saturday night. Usually he would find time to spend with his son on Sunday when she would come to his flat with the infant. Most of the time however, she would be nursing a hangover so he would have ample time to catch up and bond with his baby boy.

A year and a few months later, the routine had continued, but he was now growing tired of her partying habits. At times she would tell him that she would be going clubbing, of which he would not be given an opportunity to approve or disapprove of that. He would be told that he was just being informed, in case he needed to know where she would be. Most of the time however, she would just be unreachable on her mobile and he would conclude she was ‘out and about’.

It did not take time before they broke up. She had asked him to go to her parents’ house whenever he wanted to see his son and especially to take money for child maintenance. He was warned never to miss a single month of the amount they had agreed upon regardless of any circumstances. By the time the baby was turning two years the father had missed two months of the monthly infant upkeep in the preceding 6 months. He had explained that he had moved from the smaller 1 bed roomed flat to a bigger 3 bedroomed house on the outskirts of the city and his new landlord had asked him to pay 6months rentals in advance and that had taken a toll on him financially. Still, he did not see any peace.

So there he was that Monday morning of 8^th June, starring at the calendar then at the birthday presents for his son which he had accumulated the past 7 years. He decided that before going to buy his 10^th present, he would write something in his diary. He would write the words that would serve as a reminder for the next 12 months that he had to fight for the right to be with his son. He opened a page in the diary and immediately wrote a heading with the words; ‘A father’s cry’.

In his mind, he was sure the words he was penning down would encourage him to take on the legal system and fight for his son. He believed he had the right motivation-and the ‘balls’ to do it.

He wrote;

Immanuel Kant said; “Space and time are the framework within which the mind is constrained to construct its experience of reality.”

I have tried to understand the concept of time and space but never really got anything from it. Does it mean the more time that passes and the more distance (space), then our realities are bound to change to conform to the existing realities of the vicinity? How come I have never really forgotten about the son I was forced to give up because of the flawed child care laws?

For one reason or the other, child custody is so flawed that instead of protecting the welfare and rights of children, it just plays to the advantage of desperate women. And grandparents I must add. Why is it that a child below 7 years cannot live with his father? Why don’t laws look at the facts of both parents with equal measure and decide on the available facts and not just because one is a woman then they are more likely to take care of a child better.

There is no law actually that exists with a ‘7 years’ clause for children whose parents are either separated or just never married, barring the father from custody. However, magistrates have been predominantly giving custody to mothers based on the ‘7 years’ argument. Maybe most magistrates just follow precedence and now would be the time to challenge some of these decisions. I know it takes only one man to rise up, stand, and be counted. This man shall be I. For the sake of my son, and other sons out there who hanker for the presence of their fathers in their lives.

I see a lot of women incapable of taking care of a child but still given custody just because they are women. Some women are just rubbish drunks who bring a different man home every month or even every Friday in the presence of their child. Some of these women, the only thing of any importance to them is stiletto heels which they will go to great length to own a pair. If the separated parents are on good terms it is easier for the child to have access to both parents. However, the biggest problem once a relationship breaks is to maintain civility with an ex one shares a child with. Most desperate women want to use the child as leverage to get to the man and hurt them. This is the main reason they will go to large extents to have custody of children. Yet, these kinds of women just ship the children to their parents.

If I made the law, grandparents from either side would not even have the slightest say in the welfare of a child while the parents are still alive. They would just be - grandparents.

I believe this law was made for the good of the child hence it should and must work for the best outcome for the child. Today marks the day I probe further into this law. I want to fully understand this particular law so that the best outcome for my child eventually prevails. I know the court would at the very least grant me visitations and not as those people have made things to be. It has been a long time. Now is the time I fight for my child.

I know that in the judicial system, men get fucked in regards to their children.  I have experienced it first hand and have learned my lessons.

Diary of a fatherless son!

1^st January:

Another year starts today. For me it promises nothing but the same pattern like the last. The passing of time each hour, each day and each month will not bring back my father. I do not know if the man that brought me to earth is dead or alive. Nobody wants to say. I’ve heard that he’s dead, but I don’t remember ever attending his funeral. He just disappeared from thin air one day.

There were times when I spent my days with him but one day he just wasn’t there. I hope in my heart he is alive. This is how I start my year; longing to see my father whom I am not sure if he is still alive or not.

1^st April:

Today was open day at school and all my friends’ parents came. My father did not show up, maybe he is really dead. Neither did my mother show up. Well, my grandmother was there for me too. If my father was alive, would he have an idea what grade I am in today? Does he know I was 1^st in my class? I’ve heard people say I take after him, but if he was a smart guy as people say, would he have allowed himself to just disappear on me? Maybe he is really dead.

If by any ounce of chance he was alive, will he ever try to make contact with me? If our roles were reversed and I was the parent, I’d look for him every day and I’d never tire. Maybe I am just blowing my horn, but in reality I would never know the longing my son would have of me unless if of course I experienced life on the other side – as the son. It could be that he can’t really hanker for his son because he has to have been a son without a father for him to understand how his son yearns to have him in his life.

1^st July:

Dear Dad,

Today I just woke up with a high level of belief that you are not dead. I woke up more assured and very expectant that you will show up. I saw myself sitting at a dinner table with you. Maybe you are not dead after all. As it turned out, I overheard grandpa talking about ‘letting him know his father is around’, ‘his father had tried to come and see him’! Was that me he was talking of?

I believe it was me. But if you are around, where have you been all this long? If you tried to see me, why did it not happen? Is it that you don’t think I am alive? Or maybe you just don’t try hard enough to find me? You brought me to this earth and knew exactly where you left me so I believe it wouldn’t be that hard to find me.

1^st October:

Three quarters of the year has passed by but my hope to one day see my father has not been distinguished. I will one day meet him and look him in the eyes. However, I do not know what that meeting would bring out. Would it be a happy reunion of father and son? Maybe such reunions only occur in the proverbial land of happily ever after. Or, it would be about opening old wounds? There should definitely be wounds that were created for him to just disappear from my life.

My belief though remains that it would be a happy meeting, as I doubt whatever wounds created were because of me. I know I could never have forced my parents to be together as that is their choice, but to be separated forever from one of them is a depravity of a high degree. All I ever ask for is to have the opportunity to take a walk to the shop with my father as all children do. I would have a story to tell at school how my father and I had ice-cream together while I told him stories of all my school friends and teachers.

31^st December:

Dear diary, 

All throughout the year, I have shared my inner most feelings with you. I have shared my fears with you. I have shared the best moments with you. Why is it that I couldn’t share with you, the day I met my dad again? Is there a miracle about to happen on this last day? Then again, if my Dad showed up today, would I be happy to see him? Maybe I would, maybe he would just bring more sadness to a closed chapter. But I refuse to close the chapter. My father is alive. And because he is alive I will one day have the opportunity to meet him.

I would love to get to know him all over again. I bet he looks just like me. Dear diary, I know some of the pages in your willing space I filled them full of tears. But today I have none. I want to be strong, I will not cry. In fact I wish my daddy a happy new year. In the New Year, my main resolution is that people realize how unhappy I am so that someone can help me reunite with my father.

‘Somebody… anybody…’