The call that never stops, but what happens when it does

On Sunday 21 June, while many people celebrated fathers, I found myself thinking not about grand gestures, but about a phone call at six in the morning.

- NAMHLA MONAKALI

Without fail, my phone rings at about six o'clock. I already know how it begins.

“How did you sleep?” Then: “How’s the weather over there?” And eventually: “What are your plans for today?”

What once felt routine now feels like a gift I did not know I was receiving. Because one day, I know, the phone will stop ringing.

THE MAN BEHIND THE CALL

My father is not the hero I imagined when I was young. He is something better, a human being who has spent a lifetime choosing his family, and who continues to do so.

He is stubborn. He is proud. And I love him in a way that has grown deeper and more complicated with every year.

Father's Day stirs something I cannot fully name. It is the weight that comes with understanding, finally, what someone has been doing for you all along.

Growing up, we spoke about the structure of many African homes, where children obey without question because an elder has spoken.

He never wanted that for me. He wanted me to think. To reason. To push back.

He believed a child who only obeys has not been educated, he has been domesticated.

Research from a systematic review in Acta Paediatrica found that the quality of father-child communication is linked to fewer behavioural problems, better academic outcomes and stronger emotional regulation effects that endure into adulthood.

My father spoke to me like I was worth speaking to. I only understood what that meant much later.

“ANDITHANDI UKUBETHA”