HE IS MY DADDY.

He pushes and pulls, moves around with a white-covered dusty face. A broom permanently in the hands striving to make the factory premises, the open road, workplace clean. He is in tatters and rags. Dirty and filthy his eyes cast down making sure no single garbage is left. At the back of his mind is his young daughter Nusayba. She must get something to eat daily. She must dress well. She must get her play toys and she must feel loved by daddy. Daddy is back from work in the evening and Nusayba is happy , my daddy is back.

 

The situation is confusing. He finds himself in the thick of things. His good Samaritan habit made him step in to cool the flared moods and flying fisticuffs because he was keen on seeing a normal situation. He didn’t see why the two had to fight. Tired and worn out yes, but could still spare alittle moment to separate some two fighting goons. One goon pulls out a damn knife, drives it through his throat and dashes away into thin air, disappearing into a thicket. The men in blue then appear from only God knows where. The tired Babake Nusayba is desperately trying to help a dying crook. The poor goon breathes his last and the cops rush to a conclusion; Babake nusayba has killed an ” innocent man”. He is cuffed and handed over to the prison authorities. Serving his 40 years for 1st-degree murder in Kamiti or Shimo La Tewa maximum security prison for a crime he knew nothing about. He just wished he could meet Michael Scofield along the prison corridors just to help him figure out how to scale the perimeters. Nusauba is broken into pieces. Where is my daddy ? Her mammy can’t explain courtesy of her ever watery eyes from persistent cries. She is equally waiting for 40 years to elapse so that her hubby can come. Someone’s daddy was framed and he is rotting in jail. His crime? just trying to help. He is someone’s daddy. Think deep before you frame him. He is only trying to fend for his family. Nusayba is still waiting for daddy to come home, although she is now grown, married, has children and is soon graduating to a young granny. He is my daddy.

 

She comes from work. Stethoscope hanging loosely on her neck and her white dust coat on her back, she pulls over to do what she does better; saving lives. Administering medical procedures to regain consciousness to a man knocked down by a speedy car. She was just innocently helping. The cops pull over behind her car. Two cops disembark, one speedily accuses and cuffs her as others examine the victim. He isn’t dead yet but direly needs Nadia’s medical experties. Altercations ensue as she explains the situation. No cop is taking it. She is thrown behind the police cable ready to face charges for running over a pedestrian. The pedestrian who was long knocked down before she arrived at the scene. She suffers seizure behind the police cab and no one cares what happens to her. She dies too for lack of attention directly from police brutalitly. Her kids are waiting home for mammy to come back home. Her husband is eager to place that kiss where it belongs. The family is waiting for her home but nooo, she is arriving in heaven already. She is someone’s mommy. Before you frame her, consider those directly depending on her. Spare him the hate, he is someone’s daddy. Before you dismiss him from work, know that he needs that extra penny to keep his family afloat. Before you look down on him, know that at home, he is our daddy. He is a husband. He is our son. Just be human to see a human being in others.

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