What a remarkable holiday it has been. So far.
I took time off to go to see my dad who has been ailing with a lumbar problem. The man was a medic, pharmacist to be precise. You must know how difficult it is to convince such to seek medical attention. They know it all, or so they think. So for the past six months, the man has been feeding on Panadol with no relief. It was left to me as his eldest son to convince him to go for an MRI. Diagnosis: developing arthritis. So he is now on medication. I called him this morning and found him in a cheerful mood. Something is definitely working. Maybe it is because of the quality time we spent with him. But that is not the story I want to network with you about. It is the fond memories of how he has cared for me thus far.
My early recollections are Uhuru 1963. That midnight he took me with him to the stadium in Fort Hall (now Murang’a) to see dreadlocked Mau Mau freedom fighters emerge from the forests from where they wedged war for freedom. That’s where I started my schooling, attending Standard 1 and learning in Kikuyu. In 1964 Dad leaves Fort Hall hospital to go for a better job in Eldoret. It is here that dad bought me a bicycle and became the envy of my Kihuga Square mates. I loved the hero Lance Spearman as chronicled in `African Film’ magazine. He had a wife called Tandi and would exclaim `take that you, bastard’ whenever he fought Rabon Zollo, Public Enemy No. 1.
But I digress. Dad bought me the magazines every Monday and I was the star of the neighborhood. Fast forward to 1976, and I flunk my A levels and poof goes my dream (and his) of becoming a medical doctor. Dad works his ways to get me into MTC (Medical Training Centre) where I meet one Elisha Omukhayo Wandera and his later to be wife, Sarah. Dad notices that I steadily becoming a drunkard and a prolific miraa browser, so what doe he does? He sends me to India to do my BSc (Hons.) specializing in Zoology at Poona University. I can go on and on. Suffice.
That’s my hero. That’s my Dad. Dewo Philip Odero.