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    Fathering Shadows
    Fathering Shadows
    Fathering Shadows
    Ebook105 pages1 hour

    Fathering Shadows

    By Thulani 'Yeyeye' Gumede

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    About this ebook

    Thulani has an artistry, approaching a subject like a cameraman shooting from different angles. In response to his own fatherlessness – and the fatherlessness engulfing nations – the author in his wise writing has taken it upon himself to be the father he never had. But more than that, to be a father and a voice of hope in the dungeon of life.

    This book, Fathering Shadows, is a wide net cast out to bring family peace and unity. While addressing many intricate aspects of fatherhood, the author skillfully unravels affirmation of sons and daughters and unleashes wisdom about navigating through life's crossroads, the essence of education, conquering battles of the workplace, and moreover, the understanding of absent fathers.

    This is an indirect approach to fatherlessness with a target clearly marked. And, of course, the author hits it so well. A must read!

    "In this book I have shared each and every chapter as an invitation to get male voices to speak, encourage and affirm. If this book manages to get one man to be aware of his environment at home and to be fully present – and to go beyond that to look for opportunities to speak words of life to the fatherless beyond his yard – I will have succeeded as an author. It would mean one less shadow and one more father restored." Thulani 'Yeyeye' Gumede

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThulani 'Yeyeye' Gumede
    Release dateFeb 10, 2020
    ISBN9781990936265
    Fathering Shadows

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    • 5/5
      This is a much needed book in our generation given the state of fatherlessness that persists in our communities. It’s a beautiful heart to heart dialogue, a well of wisdom and an insightful read that is brilliantly crafted.

    Book preview

    Fathering Shadows - Thulani 'Yeyeye' Gumede

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    Fathering Shadows

    Letters to my Seed

    Thulani ‘Yeyeye’ Gumede

    © Thulani ‘Yeyeye’ Gumede 2020

    Fathering Shadows: Letters to My Seed

    Published by Nqaba Publishers

    Unit 2

    102 Grimthorpe Avenue,

    Lincoln Meade,

    Pietermaritzburg

    Email Address: [email protected]

    Facebook: Thulani ‘Yeyeye’ Gumede

    WhatsApp: +2772 182 4993

    Instagram: YeyeyeTG

    Twitter: YeyeyeTG

    ISBN 978-1-990936-25-8

    EPUB 978-1-990936-26-5

    KINDLE 978-1-990936-27-2

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

    stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means

    electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the

    written permission of the copyright owner.

    Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®,

    NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™

    Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www. zondervan.com

    The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

    Layout and cover by Boutique Books

    Dedication

    This book is dedicated to all my sons and daughters

    who are in search of their fathers.

    Preface

    Dear My Children,

    I feel a gentle breeze blowing lazily as my chest stirs with contentment. To me, writing these pages feels like a mute getting to speak for the first time. It is as if I have written words to bring myself into existence. Finally, you get to hear the utterances of Daddy’s heartbeat. I suppose it is the invisible becoming visible.

    I write these letters as a man who has many children all over the world but has never had enough time to spend nor a word to utter to them. This, I believe, must be the feeling some fathers have died with, the coffin closing down on them depriving them of the chance to ever share their heart with their seed. In such a case, their children are left to put pieces of the puzzle together to conjure up who their father was. In most cases, they knit the image together at the direction of the voices speaking from the dark.

    Your father was a very decisive man, one voice will assure. You are a child of an honourable man, says another voice. This face is really John’s face, says yet another voice as the smile lays its foundation on your face upon confirmation of having your father’s resemblance.

    I personally grew up formulating pieces of my father from honourable men who grew up with him; men whom I was so fortunate to meet once in a while. Each time I met them, they had already had some sips of the home brew. It was then that shadows would speak.

    Every time those shadows would generously speak, I would feel the gap, as I would be left with a list of things I wish I’d had a chance to ask my pater. These questions would have been:

    • His view on Purpose

    • What did he think of us as his children

    • His fears

    • His thoughts on Education and Work

    • Mistakes he made that I wouldn’t have to repeat

    • Most of all, how to be a man!

    Truth be told, there was no way that the voices could share these with me. Men hardly share these with themselves, let alone with one another! It is for this reason that I choose to crack my impervious figurine and share my heart on these pages, not only to those who were born or grew up without fathers, but also to those who are under the same roof with the fathers who are never there – fathers who live in shadows. These are fathers who read scripts in their families while there is a longing for them to speak their hearts. It’s when their coffins touch the bottom of the grave that voices in the dark start to speak.

    Your father was very proud of you, so they say with their arms stretched to your shoulder for comfort and assurance. He forever spoke about you whenever we were chasing some sorrows away.

    It is for this reason, dearest child, that I wish not to be a voice in the dark that vanishes in silence. I want to be your companion – a man who will not bombard you with instructions but who will share views that may clear your lenses as you walk your path in this world. Yes, dearest, your path.

    Dearest child, I am about to share life’s simple things, things I found myself longing for from my father – the man who had his coffin lid close on him when I was only three years old.

    May you find me in these pages. But most of all, may you find yourself.

    Sincerely yours,

    Thulani ‘Yeyeye’ Gumede

    Part One

    Chapter 1

    Where do babies come from?

    It was 18h50 when Zibonele finished locking up the last chicken into a hen house. With lightning speed, he raced to his mother. Mom, he called as he gasped for air while rushing through the slightly opened door, all chickens are now locked in, water has been fetched and the cows…

    Before he could finish, his mother yelled, Shut up! as her face turned dark like clouds in a stormy night. Though this reaction scared Zibonele, it was not out of the norm to be shouted at. How many ears do you think I have got – huh? she enquired as she pinned him against the wall with a broom stick. Thankful to have survived, with his hands held up in surrender he peacefully slid down the wall with his back until his knees rested on the cow-dung paved floor. It was then that the hoof-beat in his chest started to subside. He had survived another moment.

    Zibonele was the first born of four children. After him were a brother and two sisters. In his sixteen years, he had learnt to understand without understanding. Just yesterday, his stepfather had thrown a burning piece of wood at him after he’d mistakenly locked out one chick as he was rushing to attend his evening Buza Umkhulu.

    Buza umkhulu are classes that are arranged by the community leaders, aiming at teaching the teenagers to grow in their understanding of life. These classes are led by an old man who is in his eighties, umkhul’ uPhakathi. The way these classes are run is that teenagers ask any questions, and then umkhulu, the old man, tackles them by giving answers. These classes are run three times a week – Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Today being Wednesday, the last class of the week, was one of the reasons Zibonele was rushing to make it on time. Another reason for the rush was that he wanted to be there early so that he could also ask a question.

    With his heart beating like an African drum sourcing all his energy to beat in his chest, he leant against the wall with his eyes popped out, as if he were being choked. I am really sorry, Mom, he said while his weak smile was betrayed by a salty stream from his left eye. May I please attend buza umkhulu?

    His mother didn’t answer him but, as she always did, she pulled out a long list, asking him if he had attended to all the chores that he is tasked with. Then she got confirmation from her other three children that he had indeed done all the tasks. Following the confirmation, she said, I don’t have to remind you what you will get should you be late back, even by a split second.

    His heart leapt for joy like the calves he had just locked in the kraal. His

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