Many of my readers have gotten a glimpse of my life through my writing and my very opinionated views. Today, I hope you will indulge me to give you a glimpse into the person who made me what I am today. The person who was my biggest fan; my father.

Captain Mohamed Hatimy was many things: a son, a father, a friend, a philanthropist but above all, he was a sailor. His love for the sea and ships overshadowed all else. A trait that runs amongst certain members of my family since our ancestors set sail from Yemen to Andalusia in the 16th century.

Captain, as he only wished to be referred to, was born in the poor neighbourhood of Mkanyageni in Old Town Mombasa in 1948. His father, a naval engineer, was estranged from his wife and left his son and daughter to be raised by his mother.

My father later nursed and housed his father and his grandmother in our house until they died. To date, my paternal great-grandmother and my paternal grandfather are an important part of who I am.

Before becoming a Captain, my father told us stories of how he washed dishes in high-end restaurants to make ends meet in London, while studying his naval courses. He had been sent to London to study through bursaries. His favourite phrase to win an argument was “I have sailed around the world three times!” Unbeknownst to him, I was often amazed by the thought of it.

To travel the world, command a ship and sail the high seas, seeing things that are real or mythological, peering into the untold mysteries of the world… What a life! I'm sure his memories would have made for a great autobiography.

From 1995 to 1998, Capt Mohamed Hatimy served as chairman of the Agricultural Society of Kenya in Mombasa. He served the community by offering many unemployed youths spaces in the showground to create kiosks for the fair. He handed out free passes to everyone in the neighbourhood to go and enjoy the show.

He was part of the committee that investigated the Bombolulu Girls’ Secondary school fire in 1998. The committee's report served as a catalyst for the Ministry of Education to implement more stringent Safety Standards Manuals for schools in Kenya.

The captain was a well-known businessman and philanthropist in Mombasa. He oversaw the construction and maintenance of many mosques. The turnout at his funeral was a testament to the person he was.

When he moved to Bamburi in 1984, it was an underdeveloped place with no electricity or running water. He was the first person to bring both infrastructure into our neighbourhood from the main road. He also built a well in our compound to serve the whole community for free.

All the children who grew up in Bamburi between 1984 and 1994 know him as “Unco”. The man who stopped his two-door Suzuki to hand 50 cents (later Sh1) to all the neighbourhood kids. And he knew all of them by name! This is a man who walked into the bank to come home with packets of coins just to put a smile on childrens’ faces. Something he did until his last days, sharing candy or biscuits with the children who passed by his house.

Grief is a curious thing. It creeps up when you least expect it. Even though it feels like we have been grieving silently for months as our father took a turn for the worse while in palliative care, the shock at the finality of death is still unbearable. 

As spring is about to burst forth in my part of the world, the sight of every rose bush will break a little piece of my heart. My father and I shared our love of trivial but beautiful things through our daily texts. Our chats are filled with pictures of roses, fruit trees, colourful birds and the full moon. Grief is realising that this part of you will exist on its own without the person you shared it with. Grief is love with no place to go.

There are many traits I share with my dad. Lessons he taught me about weather patterns, navigation and the ocean that made me proud to declare “I am the captain's daughter”. I learnt many things through him, some of which he taught me but most of which I learnt by observation. We are cut from the same cloth; uncannily alike. I have and will always be my father's daughter.