Dear bloggers,
My name is Mulenga (not real name). I grew up in Kabulonga Lusaka.My father was a businessman in the mid 80s to mid 90s. He was quite successful in what he did. I apparently had 6-8 siblings. Lost count through the years. The youngest of my fathers children JJ and I are from the same mother.The rest have different mothers. Most of my brothers and sisters lived with their mothers. My father however supported them.
Having a stranger show up with bags at our house with a claim that he was my fathers child was a normal occurrence in my childhood. Sometimes it was fun discovering I had a “new” big brother. These new big brothers always made my holidays interesting. My mother was never amused though and it was a source, I suspect, of the many quarrels my parents had.
When I was in grade 8 my father started falling ill. At first he would fly out of the country for weeks on end for treatment. Later he turned to Chinese medicine and witchdoctors. As he was spending more and more time from his business his business started failing. His brother used to help run things and I become aware that his brother was actually stealing money but my dad was too sick to do anything about it. My mother also become ill. She deteriorated more rapidly than my father and died within a year. By that time my grandmother had thankfully come to live with us. I was numb to any feelings. My younger brother stopped speaking for a long time. I think he was also very traumatized. He still behaves like he has a few screws missing upstairs to this day.
One by one relatives and friends abandoned our family as my father got worse. As a young man, I had to take care of my father. The big brothers who used to frequent our house were nowhere to be seen now. I was exposed to things a boy of 15 shouldn’t be. I was so disgusted with this man. How was it possible to hate someone and love him at the same time?
I got to know HIV/AIDS intimately if I can say so. It took both my parents. I vowed I would never walk in my fathers footsteps. As years went on I turned to alcohol to numb the pain I had. Soon I found out that women were a welcome accompaniment to the alcohol. Without realising it, I had become my father. I am so disgusted with myself, I drink to numb those feelings of shame. Its a vicious cycle.
Dear readers, this is a letter I wish my cousin Mulenga could admit to himself and write. I have watched him self destruct through the years and become the man he wished he would never become. I have tried talking to him. I’ve even invited him to go to church on numerous occasions. He says church is for losers. I joke that, that’s exactly why I’m inviting him! I pray constantly that one day he will change. Every night I know he is out drinking I pray for him.
Parents your actions will have an impact on your children and grandchildren long after you are gone. Are beer and women with the resultant HIV/AIDS worth destroying so many lives? Think about it.
Ruth
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