This beautiful piece was written by a friend, someone I have so much respect for when it comes to writing and living.
I read this and it broke me. Once I again I’m reminded that TO WRITE IS TO REJECT SILENCE. Read and think.
I called him father, he said to call him so.
I called him father because he said he wanted to be my guide, that he understood what it felt like to go through this life without parents.
Come close dear daughter he said.
I want to father you.
I see you have great potential, I will mentor you as well.
Don’t worry, you are safe with me.
He swore to be there for me, he said I did not need to worry about anything, that my only problem will be that I don’t have any problems.
He told me his love was one that did not require anything in return, that it was pure and void of any guile.
I believed his every word.
I walked into his embrace, grateful that God had sent someone to fill the void father had left but alas not all gifts come from God.
Soon I will realize that fathers like him touch their daughters on their breasts, kiss them on the lips and ask them not to tell.
I realized that he asks them to spread their legs and receive him and then afterwards tell them to not worry, that it doesn’t change their father-daughter relationship.
A father is due some excesses, but I did not know this.
I did not realize till the day I was lying naked on his bed, legs spread apart, eyes shut, unable to feel anything.
I remember the new fear that took hold of me that day, one that turned me to my father’s slave, saying yes to everything he wanted and even defending his excesses.
This love that required nothing from me had me giving kisses behind walls, it had me having sexual conversations over the phone, it seperated me from my loved ones.
I always had to give a report of where I was and who I was with.
See, this love that wanted nothing in return, took pieces and pieces of me and then muffled my voice but there is only so much voice that the heart can suppress.
He came as father, probably willing to love but not fully understanding what it means to love a daughter. So he left a failure, one I hadn’t always seen.
Written by Farida Adamu.
Thanks for reading.