I never met you .... I love you Daddy

Nanhlanhla had never seen her father. He walked off before she was born all of 14 years ago.

....and now she had lots of questions.", and you Mom you are dark." Is he a black person actually?  Look at me! My complexion is very pale, and you.... Mom, you are dark."

" He is a black man Nana"

"So what does he look like? How does he look? Do I look like him?  Mom... I don't look like you... not at all.  Do I look like him?"
" I just want to meet him. See him, ... just once"

Without much help from Mom, Nana began to search for her father. She asked Mom's family and friends for information until one of the Aunts gave an address to try in Soweto. Young and alone, Nana found the house.

"He moved somewhere in Thembisa. We don't know the address" she was told.

Then, for Nana, it all happened. She and Mom were walking in Johannesburg and were being passed in the street by a Putco bus. Mom got very excited and loudly screamed at Nan. "NANA!  LOOK QUICKLY !!.. SEE THE DRIVER.!... THAT'S YOUR FATHER.!!"

All she got was a glimpse of him through the window on the passenger side of the bus. Through the reflections of the city buildings in the glass, she say him. She saw his face.... pale, just as she had imagined.....and then he was gone.

It was just a moment,... but she saw him.

That moment, the passing image blurred bu the reflections in the bus window was enough to imprint sharply on her visual memory. She had seen her father! He is a Putco bus-driver.

One fairly long phone-call and a weepy story of a teenage girl wanting to meet  her father and she had an otherwise confidential address in Thembisa. It took her three weeks before she could get there and find the house.

"He is not here, my dear" said the lady. "You had better come in."

Inside and seated-- "There is no other way way for me to tell you," she said, " he died eleven days ago in a motor accident. He is buried in Soweto".

The message was urgent, to the point, demanding "You had better do something for Nana. She is terrible. She is in shock and we cant comfort her.!!"

So a ritual was arranged.

The close family, mother aunt and sister were gathered for a meal. It took a day to prepare and Nana was encouraged to help with the preparations.It's called the 'Blessing Cup Ritual" This time as a memorial, a moment of intimate sharing and caring. A quiet moment in which to cry surrounded only by the embrace of loving people around the table at a ceremonial meal.A bowl like cup is passed around the table. Prayers are said, and as the bowl passes from one to other,.as each one holds the bowl that person has a chance to speak out memories or to speak directly to the person who has died.

Nana held the blessing bowl and told her story.

Then she said "I didn't even have a chance to call him 'daddy'. "

Nana, I said, "Why don't you call him 'Daddy' now.?"

Through her sobs her words were hardly audible. "I love you daddy. I love you I miss you. I am so sorry that you have gone before I met you, but I love you so much Daddy."

Then she lifted the Blessing Bowl  and drank.