My Father's Name, My Identity

Everyone was glued to the screen on that Friday night anticipating for Airforce One to land in our airport bearing the most powerful man on earth, President Barrack Obama. You would think we were there at the airport the moment he appeared from the plane jogging down the steps in style; like he had been practicing for it. We couldn’t just hide our excitement; the room was filled with adrenaline as everyone cheered for his arrival.

We had been patiently waiting for his visit to Kenya and finally he made it. For the three days he was in the country, I must admit it felt good knowing that the President of the United States of America, well known as POTUS, was just around town bringing with him cheer and merry every where his convoy passed through.

Putting all facts aside about this great man, there’s one thing I admired about him. He honors and respects his roots despite of the fact that he has lived in a foreign land almost 80% of his life. I kept it in my head that he just didn’t come to Kenya, but he came to his homeland. His homeland where his father was born and raised. It never occurred to me that a man of such great value will proudly bring out to light his African background. You know most Africans who make it out there always hide their background, or rather their African identity.

Every time I visit my rural home, I will always meet new relatives that I never knew existed. The relation is also kind of complicated in some way. But the fact is, you all from the same clan as they put it. In my rural area when you meet with another person who doesn’t recognize you, you will be forced to introduce yourself not just with your father’s name but adding your grandfather’s name to the mix for them to fully recognize you. This just shows how much weight one’s name bears yet some of us don’t take them seriously or probably don't even realise it.

Just like how honorable President Barack Obama said, he knew his name had some magnitude when he was questioned if he was related to Barack Hussein Obama, who is his father. At that moment he felt like he had some importance; that it wasn’t just a name, but also it carried his identity. I remember back in high school, my peers and teachers even the supporting staff always referred to me with my last name. My father’s name.

I always thought because it was unique and it sounded nice to the ears. Until at some point it hit me that it is actually unique, but it accommodated my identity. That is when I knew if I had to protect my image, I also had to protect my identity. My father’s name.

You see its just a name. True. But you never know what it can cost you. I sometimes find myself in situations where people tell me that my two African names betray me. Am always fast to tell them am aware of that. Which even makes it better. There is no point in hiding under your name. Embrace it. Some day it will be under stage lights..like seriously haha. Personally when I leave my footprints on this earth, I would like the world to remember me by my father's name. That is my ultimate identity.

These days’ ladies are keen about keeping their father’s name when they get married. It’s a trend nowadays. This to me is a good idea. I wouldn’t want to loose that identity I have had for the better part of my life. You might wonder why it is so dear to me but if you have a father like mine; I bet you would be proud to keep on with his legacy by just retaining his name.

Your origin matters too. I still insist that your origin is of uttermost importance. And when I speak of origin, I talk about your father’s roots. Those people you despise so much from your origin are the ones who will at the end of the day have to claim that you belong to them. We Africans should learn how to embrace our roots.

We should be proud of our parents’ origins. Don’t be so fast in changing your nationality forgetting where you came from. It always happens. Even if you marry a foreigner, don’t let go your original identity.

My father's name, that is my original identity.