My father was a good man, at least by my standards. He was once the most important person in my life; he shaped my beliefs and crafted my convictions. If I ever looked up to anyone, it definitely was my father. Growing up was fun, as a dotted child, I spent most of my days and evenings at the feet of my father, listening to his teachings, narrations and views of life. My father taught me everything I knew before I was old enough to face the world and its many challenges.
Soon, I was old enough to face the world and the challenges it poses. Soon I was ready to plunge into the world of manhood and carve a niche for myself. All that I had in my possession were words and teachings of wisdom I had learnt from my father. Confidently I faced the world to display the acumen I had built from learning at my father’s feet. Until this point I never realised that all that I had learnt were lies. I never knew that the wisdom I thought I gained from my father was in itself a pyramid of folly and falsehood. Looking back now, I think my father set out to intentionally deceive me.
My father was a devoted community man who led a local congregation in worship. Many visitors to our house often called him pastor. I never really knew the meaning of this, but I know that they all depended on my father for wisdom, counselling, prayers and words of advice. My father was never in short of answers to their endless demands. So often my father would teach them about Jesus Christ and the sacrifice of the cross. He would emphasise that you only needed to believe and confess Christ once and as such you are forever saved regardless of your sins. My father implicitly implied that once a confession for salvation is made you can confidently live a life of sin, whilst calling yourself a Christian.
A lady asked my father for prayers because she desperately needed a miracle. According to my father, she needed to faithfully pay her tithes and offerings, sow seeds and bring gifts to God all the time for whatever she wanted. Simply because God would not do it for free as God is also eternally hungry and could only feed on her petty seed before he can provide for her miracle.
So my father, thinking he was a shepherd of God, exploited the weak, unclothed the clothed, refused to feed the hungry, condemned the imprisoned and refused church entry to the poor and afflicted.
My father literarily worshipped money, fame and glory. In all of my father’s doings, none of it was Christ-like. Yet millions followed my father, faithfully, devotedly and sacredly. None could criticise my father, because the scriptures boldly assert that “touch not my anointed”. My father claims he is too anointed to be touched. My father is a liar.
My father was a community leader. His father was the Islamic leader of the city and head of our local mosque. So by tradition, as the first child and a devout Muslim, my father became the chief imam of our city, taking after his father, grand-father and great-grand-father.
My father can recite the entire Koran by heart in Arabic, but I doubt he has any understanding of its contents. My father always has a story from the haddith that relates to any challenge or problem anyone is facing. So everyone is rest assured of a wise solution whenever they visit my father to relate a problem to him. My father had a large following and was seen as an ideal role model for everyone. He always said the right words at the right time, preaching love and harmony to a highly divided society. Looking back now, I think my father was a two faced heartless hypocrite.
He married a young girl of six years old as his fourth wife after divorcing two others, just to keep the number at four. I thought to myself, how is a girl of six supposed to have sexual intercourse? How is she supposed to bear the grunt of motherhood, when she is only a child? My father could not be bothered, “after all there is a precedent recorded of the prophet in the haddith”, he always claims in his defence.
My father upholds the five pillars of Islam, or so he claims. Yet the poor in our neighbourhood never hear from him, unless it’s Ramadan. My father never remembers he is a Muslim (if he does he never acts like the one he preaches about) except its Friday, time for prayers and his weekly sermons.
My sister, aged eighteen met and fell in love with a young lad who had a different religious belief. Two young birds in love decided to tie the knots. My father would have none of it, “how can you be seeing an infidel?” he retorted. He gave her an immediate ultimatum to end the senseless relationship. Foolishly in love, my sister refused to yield. My father thought the right thing to do was to do the honourable thing and end my sister’s life, he killed her and called it honour killing. There was no one to question him; after all there are precedents in the haddith.
My brother stole money from my father to fend for his hunger; my father would have none of it. He chopped off his right hand and called it the enforcement of sharia law. Our community had lived in harmony for hundreds of years with persons of varying religious beliefs, until my father became the chief imam. Then he started inciting Muslims against non-Muslims, reminding them of the commandments of the prophet Mohammed (SAW) that non-Muslims are infidels that must be exterminated. So a once peaceful city has become a colony of war, with Muslims now attacking and killing non-Muslims without any provocation. All of our Christian neighbours have been killed. My father says it’s the will of Allah that non-Muslims be killed. My father lied. My father is a liar.
Everyone agrees that my father is an unusually intelligent man. He graduated from the university with distinction at the age of nineteen. By twenty-one he was already a professor and by twenty-three he was a globally recognised scholar for his numerous academic works. He holds the patent for the cure of several diseases including HIV/AIDS, cancers of all kinds, leukaemia and several other allergies and addictions that have caused debilitating diseases. He also boasts of several awards from all parts of the globe. His research works led to the discovery of the lost ark of Noah, the tombs of Adam and Eve and the location of the Garden of Eden. My father is by all standards a living legend.
Over the last 25 years, my father has been lecturing at the world’s foremost university. His particular subjects have been evolution and biogenesis. So for the past quarter of a decade my father has taught that the intelligent nature of this world was a random accidental occurrence. That the earth just sprung up by chance, the nine planets, the sun, moon and stars are all products of a random incidental occurrence called the big bang. I was amongst the many students who diligently listened and attempted to assimilate my father’s teachings in the university.
I have gained a lot of knowledge from my father; through him I learnt that intelligence can only produce intelligence. And that intelligence cannot be accidental. He finds it difficult to understand the need for a creator or super intelligent being but considers it potent to ridicule the biblical claims of creation. I always believed my father and his evolution theory, until I became a man. At this stage I started asking my father certain questions, questions that beg for honest answers.
I wanted to know if there was any plausible explanation for the mitochondria gene exception. I would also like to know the identity and nature of the last common universal ancestor. These answers would help me understand better the origin of life and appreciate the intelligence behind my father’s teachings on these subjects.
My father claims that life started through multiple chemical reactions but he is unable to state the singular chemical reactions that kick started life neither is he able to tell what substances make up this reaction. I have repeatedly asked my father, what was the structure of the first living things? What was the catalyst of the first chemical reaction and what were its components? How was the pioneer RNA’s formed? Which was the very first and what was its structure?
My father has repeatedly refused to answer these questions, he rather states emphatically and arrogantly that evolution and biogenesis are the only plausible explanation to life and the origins of man. My father lied. My father is a liar.
Everyone agrees that our country needs a change. A positive one that would sweep through our socio-political life to cause a great economic revolution. Everyone knows that this change must come from the elite political class, since by default they control most of the nation's resources through inherent corruption and disregard for the rule of law.
The average person has long given up hope of a political redemption for our country. This is because regardless of who takes centre stage, regardless of his charisma and sweet promises, things hardly ever change. At least not the kind of positive economic and wealth empowering change we all hope for. To understand what we meant by hope, you would need to see the excruciating level of poverty amongst the populace in contrast with the abundant riches flaunted by the thieving political class.
In between the hopelessness and despair also lies a glint ray of light, an unquenchable faith that perhaps, by chance or faith, our country will soon have a messiah who will ameliorate the living conditions of the people. No one better represents the hopes and aspirations of the masses than my father.
My father was everything good the masses would expect from their long awaited political messiah. He was born without a silver spoon in an undignified measure of poverty. He rose through diligence and hard work and is today a successful business mogul, a prominent philanthropist and an exemplary example of what great citizens should be like. This was the popular newspaper profile version of my father. If only they knew the truth.
My father decided to run for president. This was an unprecedented move. A man from a minority group seeking for the highest office in the land, in a nation so divided as ours. But my father was an intelligent man, he appealed to the hope of the hopeless and the aspirations of the downtrodden.
To those who had no jobs, my father promised 30 million jobs. To those without adequate medical care, he promised free and qualitative medical care, to the entrepreneurs my father promised an aggressive development of outstretched and worn out infrastructure to enable businesses thrive.
My father had a promise that matched every category of need in the country, little wonder that in a short while the entire nation had their hopes risen and anticipated a dramatic change in national and personal fortune. And so the clarion call was made, from the down trodden to the homeless, the beggars and the jobless. Everyone came together, all those who had lost hope, beginning to loose hope or frustrated at the status-quo. They called it a democratic revolution, our own man, full of ideas and with good intentions will be our president. My father was the long awaited messiah.
To the ballot they went, all votes cast and all votes counted. My father had won. Considering the political dynamics of our country, it was an inconceivable victory. The people's will had prevailed, good times await our country.
Soon my father was sworn-in as president. So everyone waited, three years gone out of a four year tenure. Never mind the lies and propaganda in the news and on the pages of newspapers, there were still no jobs, the schools and hospitals are closed because workers are owed 8 months wages, poverty is at an all time high. The cost of living is painfully increasing everyday, the rich are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer.
Just like he had a promise for every one when he was canvassing for votes, my father also had an excuse for all the promises he broke. "There is no river in the desert, hence he has no reason to build a bridge in the desert" This was his natural response to anyone who wanted to know why the nation's infrastructure has not being developed as he promised.
Tell my father of the amazing level of poverty experienced by the citizenry, he'd tell you that under his watch according to some ridiculous statistics by the world bank, our economy is the fastest growing in the world. All opposition figures have been imprisoned based on cooked up charges. My father has bought everyone influential enough to pose a challenge with one financial favour or the other. Corruption is rife under my father's rule. My father is now a multi billionaire from stolen funds stashed in foreign banks.
My father wants a second term in office. He is campaigning again. He is wooing the people again, telling them he needs more time in office to implement his ideas. Just like four years ago, the people are gathering around him eager to vote for him again. I cant believe they are this stupid. How can you allow yourselves to be fooled a second time?
I shake my head in despair, lamenting in a deep voice. My father is a liar, he lies repeatedly.
Hate him or love him, my father comes across as someone who would always say his mind, regardless of the circumstances. There are many words to describe my father. In my own words I would say, he is an ideal role model, a devoted family man and a good hearted person.
Many of my positive childhood memories can be connected to one encounter or the other that had to do with my father. My siblings and I felt loved and appreciated. Knowing my father, I do not think that anyone could wish for a better dad. Well, that was before things changed.
We belonged to the middle class, a decent home and also enjoyed a good but inexpensive lifestyle. My parents were madly in love, this was obvious even to the blind. Having been childhood sweet hearts, its a miracle they still loved themselves so much especially in this part of the world where anti-marriage is the norm.
Our family was perfectly normal as far as I could tell, we attended worship service every Sunday, Father paid his tithes, seeds and offerings dutifully. He also served as an usher, every other Sunday, never mind that he never bothered to read the bible himself but had purchased hundreds of videos of pastor's teachings, which were his daily guide.
Suddenly everything unravelled. My mom noticed a lump in one of her breasts but initially dismissed it until smelly bloody fluids started leaking out of her nipples. After experiencing repeated excruciating pains, she finally succumbed to work mate's pressures and went for a medical check up. Mom simply hated doctors and hospitals.
The results was out, mum has breast cancer at an advanced stage. Our entire world was shattered by this news. I'd say that perhaps, we did not have sufficient mental strength to cope with such unexpected bad news. But to be fair on us, nothing prepares anyone for bad news, especially when you have lived a life in which you had it all good and going well.
We had to be strong for mum. So while we were keen on doing all that the doctor asked, we were also keen believers who wanted to listen to what pastor had to say. The doctor recommended mastectomy simply because the cancer was at an advanced stage. He repeatedly emphasised that there is only a little chance of Mom surviving the ailment. The treatment would cost a fortune, it would most likely take away all of the families savings and probably put us into debts. We were initially in a quandary, but now time and hope seem to be against us.
Pastor however disagreed. He told father that there was hope with the Lord. He quoted several scriptures emphasising that all God required of us at this stage was obedience and sacrifice so that we could get our miracle. For a start, pastor said we should sow a great seed that matches our faith. Pastor recommended that Dad should trust God and sow as a seed of faith using all of the family's savings.
Father was confused. A decision had to be made, whose counsel should he take? whose opinion mattered, the doctor or the pastor? From an objective point of view, the doctor was quite succinct. We had to push through the medical process, hope for the best and see the outcome. Pastor was more emphatic. According to him, God is the perfect healer who wants to heal mom without the help of a medical doctor. All we had to do was trust God, exercise our faith and all would be well. By faith he meant that Dad had to give all of the family's savings to him.
I cant say my father was foolish because it is unfair to ask for rational thinking from a man faced with such a seemingly difficult choice. He and mum had to make a decision. To refuse the pastor's counsel is simply to socially ostracise themselves since all members of their social circle attended the same church. Together they decided to trust God and get a miraculous healing.
The pains did not cease, instead it grew worse. Mum's condition has not improved after gifting all our savings totalling over hundreds of thousand to "God". Pastor expected them to deny reality and make faith confessions on a daily basis, while also exercising their faith by making repeated donations to the work of God. Claiming to be healed and strong, when in actual fact her condition has relapsed. To compound their woes, father lost his high earning job. My parents were on a highway, it appears too late to turn back.
During this same time, on a random shopping drive to the city centre, father and my sister had a collision with a fast speeding truck. The effects was debilitating. Father was badly bruised and broke both shoulders. My sister had a fractured skull. She died in the ambulance. A week later, mum died after the cancer had ravaged her entire body. Pastor said it was the will of God.
This was too much for my father to bear, after several tears and consolations, regrets and after-thought analysis. Father felt cheated by God. After making donations worth hundreds of thousands to God, serving as an usher in his vineyard for over two decades, making tithes and offering payments to the church for ages, all in hope for healing and the well being of his family. If after all his efforts, all that God would reward him with was this endless stream of tragedy, he concluded that perhaps God was not who or what he thought.
Honestly, I wish I had the guts to tell my father the plain truth. That though God promised us healing, the medical profession is a manifestation of this promised healing. That the knowledge used here could only have been from God as prophesied in the bible. I wish I had the nerve to have told my father that God is not interested in your tithes or offerings, seeds of faith or ushering in the church, what God desires is for you to worship Him in spirit and in truth. I was a coward. I did not tell my father. He was also stupid, couldn't he have read that in the bible as well?
Father came to numerous conclusions. He said God does not answer prayers, if he does, He would have heard the prayers of the pastor, the church, our family and friends to heal mum. And also he would not have allowed sister to die. Father stopped going to church and concluded that perhaps God does not exist.
Today, my father travels all over the world as a prominent speaker, teaching and preaching that God does not exist and that religion is an act of hopeless ignorance. As a renowned atheist who revels in denying the beauty of God and His creations, my father is globally celebrated.
My father did not know that prayer is an act of communion with someone you know, looking back now, I can tell that my father never knew God personally. So when next you see my father on television denouncing the existence of God and proclaiming theories to deny the works of God. Though you may not understand the ambivalent terminologies my father uses in his speeches (they were designed to confuse you and make my father look like an intelligent dude) to denounce God and you may not know the motivation behind my father's zeal against God.
Look beyond the lies and know for a fact that my father is a liar. His inability to comprehend the workings of God has made him conclude that God does not exist. My father lied. My father is a liar.
