The lies CEOs no longer believe about fatherhood

Because, unlike running a company, where if you stick to the equations, that a-often-leads-to-b, fatherhood demands you rip the how-to guide, submerge yourself in the water, and find out how much of an amphibian you could be. “Despite my success as a parent,” one executive reflected, “my children can still end up failing.” It’s the absurdity of being a dad—like racing west as the sun goes down to make the day longer.

Secretary and CEO of the Council of Legal Education

I planned to be a father. We got our firstborn nine months after our wedding. I have a 16-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter.
My fear as a parent is what will drive my children to work hard and desire something. When we were growing up, there were so many things that we dreamt of because of the poverty in the society at that time.

We worked hard on the premise that if we work hard, get a good job, a good car, and buy a nice house, but our children have grown up seeing those things we dreamt of. So what will motivate them?

I hope my children never have to forgive me for not giving them the future they deserve. The Bible says a wise man leaves a bequest for his children and his children’s children.

There is that fear that everything I’ve worked for will be lost in one generation. I hope my children will be responsible enough to take care of their children.

Maybe I’ve not modeled it well enough for them. Unfortunately, in this generation, we work so hard to provide for them that we forget to be there.

You will not find this in a parenting book. Every child is different from the others. These books say that parenting would be the same, that whatever you use on Son A will work on Son B. That is not true; each son comes out differently and needs to be parented differently.

It’s much more acute when you have a son and daughter with different personalities and expectations.

When my children wear my shoes, I hope they understand that everybody in society, including themselves, needs to carry their own burden and be responsible. They need to be their own person. I say this because, despite my failure as a parent, I want them to know that they can succeed. And despite my success as a parent, they can also fail if they do not take care.

When my children describe me, I hope they say that he did the best he could for us.

Am I the kind of son my children would be proud of? It’s a difficult one. I was very naughty. In fact, sometimes when my children behave the way I did as a young man, when I get so angry and before I punish them, I remember that I was exactly like that.

Childhood passes in a blur. They grow up so fast. Unfortunately, I stay away from my children because they are in Dar es Salaam and I am in Nairobi, and every time I get to meet them, I find they have grown faster than I anticipated.

Now that my son is a teenager, we open up and have man-to-man talks. I tell him the realities of life: sometimes, even if you are treated wrongly, you don’t have to take revenge. But I realized that these are actually individuals, and they need to learn how to live their own lives. I will not be there as a parent to carry them through every circumstance and situation because the world will not always be fair to them.

Being present for my children means the world, especially for the girl. It is one of the things that haunts me, my absence in their lives as they pass through most stages in life. I tell myself that my heart is in the right place. I will do everything for them to succeed in life. And I tell myself, as long as I have committed them first of all to God, who is a better father than I am, then they are in good hands.

My fatherhood weakness is that I let my daughter get away with a lot. She is a good shopper. She goes in and picks her stuff, and she loves the best things in life; you can’t always tell her no, she might even bankrupt me (chuckles). Sometimes I sympathise with the man my daughter will date (chuckles)

This Father’s Day, I’ll be in church. My responsibility is just to commit my children to God, to ensure He will take care of them, irrespective of their situations and circumstances in life.

CEO, Choice Microfinance Bank

Having children was very intentional. I currently have two. My firstborn is Brianna, who is four years old, and my secondborn is a boy called Tai, who just turned two. My wife, Christine, and I planned for it, prayed for it, and waited. We didn’t want to just “have” a child—we wanted to be ready for one. When it finally happened, it felt like an answered prayer we’d prepared our hearts for.

I hope my children never have to forgive me for pressuring them or pushing my own unfulfilled dreams onto them. I want them to be free to become who they are, to chase their own passions, not mine. My job is to give them roots and wings, not a script.

Failure in parenting would be if my children didn’t feel they could come to me. I want to build a strong connection and friendship with them. I want to support who they are, not who I think they should be. If they ever felt alone or judged instead of safe with me, that would be my biggest failure.

What frightens me most about fatherhood is the weight of it. The realisation that my choices, my moods, even how present I am on an ordinary day, are shaping how my children see themselves and how safe they feel in the world.

In fatherhood, there’s no dry run, no do-over. You only get to raise them once. It is actually easier running Choice Bank than being a father to Brianna and Tai. And tied to that is the fear of not being enough.

Of facing a moment that really matters and not having the answer, or falling short right when they need me most. I’ve learned to sit with that fear instead of running from it. I won’t always get it right, but I can keep showing up, and I think that matters more than getting it perfect.

Being present for my children means giving them my full attention. When they talk about their day, I listen, laugh, smile, and comment. It’s not about being in the same room but about them knowing I’m with them in that moment.

My dad was a workaholic, and I picked that up from him without realising it. When he was teaching, he was also farming, running a business, chairing the teachers’ union, and serving as a church elder. I admire his drive, but now that I have two children, I’m intentional about creating time for them, and not passing down my father’s flaw. I’m learning that being present is a different kind of work.

A lie about fatherhood I no longer believe is that you have to be the “tough parent” so mom can be the soft one, and that dads should only come in for discipline and tough decisions. I don’t believe that anymore. My children need me to be soft, to listen, to comfort, and to guide, not just to discipline. Fatherhood is both strength and gentleness.

You will not find this in a parenting book: there’s no perfect father. I actually stopped reading parenting books because I realised I had to give myself permission to make mistakes and learn from them. I used to think a good child meant obedient, clean, homework done. But with my son, I’ve learned that’s not always true. Children will teach you more about yourself than any book can.

I am marking Father’s Day by being present. Christine, our children and I will spend the day together. For me, Father’s Day isn’t about gifts or big plans. It’s about creating memories with them, giving them my full attention, and letting them know they are very special to us, my wife and I.

Senior Partner, Igeria & Ngugi Advocates

I decided when I wanted to be a father, in the sense that when I was in high school, I knew I couldn’t be a father, so I didn’t have the desire then. I had two children. I lost one last year.

Losing a child is terrible. You would not wish that on anyone. The loss of a child also shines a different spotlight on fatherhood because you keep wondering what you did wrong and blaming yourself for that occurrence. After all, as a father, you take on the responsibility of ensuring your children are provided for and protected. When you lose them to death, the underlying feeling is that you failed to protect them.

Death redefined fatherhood. It brought home a realisation that God is in control of our lives, and He has the prerogative to determine life in all its aspects—birth, health, and death, and others. Some of these prerogatives are easier to accept than others, and others can make you question your relationship with God, or even make you very angry.

I would have failed as a parent if I did not instill quality values in my children. Especially about integrity. Even if my children end up being extremely successful and wealthy, I would have failed if they lack integrity.

When my children wear my shoes, I hope they understand I have given them the tools to have successful relationships at all levels, for I believe relationships are the barometers to gauge how successful you are as a human being.

That’s why at a funeral, the eulogy is focused on the impact that the deceased had on the people who were critical stakeholders in their lives: family, friends, colleagues, and mates. The total of your life when it comes to an end is based on the impact you had on the people you interacted with and the value that they had for you in that regard.

Am I the kind of son my children will be proud of? I believe so, yes. And I say that with humility. Because fatherhood is something that I have taken very seriously. In a sense, just to make them assured that as long as I am present, if they have anything worrying them, they know I am there for them. It’s almost like the relationship you have with God because when you pray to God, He assures you that He will resolve everything. You needn’t worry.

My father’s flaw was his ambition. I cannot speak too much about my father’s flaws because I lost him when I was very young, so I never established a serious relationship in terms of what his character was. But I have been told in many instances that my late father was ambitious. He said that he wanted things done.

Quickly. If you have a certain timeline or standard that you want to get and it’s not met, then you’re irritable with those who are working toward that goal. There’s a positive side to it because it allows you to progress quickly. But a lot of times, people struggle with dealing with that level of impatience, and I hope not to bequeath that to my children.

It’s true that the sting of loss can either harden you or soften you. It has made me more empathetic to people’s struggles. As Africans, we feel that men are obliged to behave in a particular way, especially with regard to their emotions. Loss made me realise that you can be in touch with your emotions, and it doesn’t erode your masculinity.

The epitome of masculinity is your ability to manage not just your emotions but also difficult tasks in life. That’s why we acquired bad habits like overworking, that you’re a hard man, you’re able to withstand hard tasks in life.

The challenge that sometimes we have as men is that when you have many examples of projects that you have done successfully, you tend to assume that this is your route in life and that you’re invulnerable to failure. And then when something happens, and especially if you are to blame for a certain consequence, then you don’t take it well.

A lie about fatherhood I no longer believe is that if you are very deliberate as a father, you can get your children to be exactly what you want them to be.

“Eddie is my son. I want him to be a doctor because I was a doctor, and my father was a doctor, but then he graduates, and he doesn’t want to go to med school… but you cannot break the family streak!” (chuckles) But Eddie wants to be a rapper! I used to think those who are unable to mentor their children in specific directions have failed. When I came to the realisation that that is a lie, it was a rude shock because I personally was affected by it.

I had wanted my children to be a certain way, especially career-wise, but they chose their own path. The irony is that we plead with them to be independent thinkers, yet we want to push them in certain directions and are frustrated because they are not us. You can’t control them, but you can equip them with the tools they need to succeed in whatever path they choose.

My fatherhood weakness is that I’m guilty of insulating my children from certain realities in life. I’m the kind of person who would go and pay off a huge bill we have accumulated and say, “Okay, let’s make a fresh start.” Other people would just say, “You sort yourself out.” This is my weakness, because even though I know that I won’t always be there to sort them out, I will still sort out the problem, with a caveat that may not be strictly enforced: “Usirudie tena! This is the last time!” (chuckles).

For Father’s Day, I’ll go for lunch and spend quality time with my daughter, who recently got engaged. She has an active Instagram presence and has made me quite famous in ways I never anticipated, especially among people of her generation. I will spend quality time with her and her fiancé.

Losing my son has sensitised me to young men who may be struggling with fatherhood issues. Kenyans are quick to point out that things aren’t working well, but we don’t take action to rectify. It’s the ‘Tunaomba serikali’ attitude, yet you can do it yourself. This has made me more solution-oriented in my effort to create a better society for myself and those around us. Because the quality of our life is predicated on the kinds of relationships we create and how we manage them.

Father of five, one on the way.

I wanted to be a father. I told myself I’ll do my best, and so I went ahead and had five children, and counting.

What frightened me most about being a father is mortality. Before I was a dad, I kept asking myself, ” Will I be there for these children until they are older and they’ve got families of their own?” I could aim to be this kind of a dad that is present, involved, and intentional, but something takes me out. I dealt with that through faith, praying to God for a long life. What’s frightening me now is the changes the world is experiencing and having to keep up with them in the journey to be a good dad. Our children now know so much in this tech age, which requires that I step up, learn new things, and be intentional in connecting with them.

I hope my children never have to forgive me for leaving them. Or that I abandoned them for work, investments, or whatever reason. I’ve lived and worked out of the country, and I’ve always told myself that I’d never leave my children behind. So, if my employer is not willing to take me plus my family, then I’m not going. I ensure I am not travelling for long periods, and I’ve curated my life around availability and being present, not just physically but emotionally.

I will not demand my children follow my path, but I demand discipline at home and having the right values, like kindness and caring. I will actually be more supportive of them based on whatever they select for their careers. If my son tells me he wants to be a DJ, I’ll be the one buying him the newest DJ decks and connecting him to event organisers, making him the best DJ around.

My father was absent. I first got a father figure at 25; this is the first man I ever became vulnerable with. I used to watch the sitcom, My Wife and Kids, and the protagonist was one of the men I followed and felt I could borrow elements of masculinity from. Mr Mbugua, my former landlord, showed me how to be vulnerable, empathise with my children, apologise when I am wrong, and hold me to account. I am more open, that I am not a dictator, let us reason together.

My mom introduced my father to me when I was in my second year of university, and I have done my best to get answers from him on why he left, but he has yet to give me a response. I have seen him no more than three times. Legend has it that they didn’t or they were not allowed by their parents to be together. I lived with my stepdad for about three years, it didn’t work out, and I spent most of my growing up with my grandma.

The most important thing is to keep my family together. That’s what I live for. It left a lot of scars that I never want my children to carry. It’s my life’s mission to ensure my family stays together so that no one ever has to go through that.

Am I the kind of son my children would be proud of? I’d say yes. The jury’s out there on whether I was the best son to my mom, especially in her latter days, as I was building my family and was 100 percent focused on them. What would matter more to my children in retrospect when they grow older is, ‘Was he a good father to us,’ and I’d want that hopefully to be the thing that matters to them more than how best of a son I was.

My children misunderstand how busy I can get. They’re still young, so they might not understand how I disappear and appear in different intervals because of the travel that I need to do for work.

My fatherhood weakness, says my wife, is that I have a soft spot for my daughters, and she always cautions me that I could be too hard on the boys and too soft on the girls. I believe every dad understands how easy it is to have a soft spot for their daughters.

Fatherhood is not easy, but Dad tried. That is what I want my children to know. But I also hope they understand that you don’t stay down. Rise and do it again. Fatherhood is the greatest job they can ever do because it speaks to legacy, future, and continuity. The better fathers we have, the better the community and nations.

Being present for my children means I have answers for them. When I see their smiles whenever I come back home, it’s always amazing, it means absolutely everything.

A lie about fatherhood I no longer believe is that fathers are mean. Sometimes we will tighten the budget or refuse to do some things for our children. But it’s always from a good place, not to curtail fun. Dads are great!

The plan for Father’s Day is in motion. I have heard some chatter that something special is being organised. The details are a bit scanty, but I am expecting something because we as fathers don’t get to be celebrated a lot.