By Casper Waithaka
Nairobi — The reunion of a Kenyan father and his American daughter after 28 years of separation began with an advert in the newspaper. It ended on Tuesday with the long-estranged pair hugging and sobbing on Moi Avenue, Nairobi.
Passers-by couldn’t help but stare.
American Tramaine Chelang’at Hugie said she has always dreamed of meeting her father, Mr Anderson Obare Atuya. She knew him only from a photograph of him holding her when she was born.
She had to find him. So when it was time for Ms Chelang’at, who is 28, to find an internship in her field of study — integrated media for international development — she chose to take an assignment in Kenya.
Work in the slums
She arrived in Nairobi in July, and began working in the slums and doing HIV-related projects. But after speaking to some of her father’s old friends from college –where he met her mother, Terri Lea Hugie an African-American — Ms Chelang’at had no leads as to his whereabouts.
Mr Obare is of mixed parentage, his mother being of Kalenjin descent and his father a Kisii. The name Chelang’at originated from Mr Obare’s mother’s clan and was chosen by Tramaine’s mother who had the choice of naming her Moraa.
When Ms Chelang’at could not find her father doubts crept in. She knew he was Kenyan, but after so many years, he could have lived anywhere. But she wasn’t ready to give up, yet. She had to try another tactic.
“Back at home, friends told me many Africans read newspapers,” Ms Chelang’at said.
On Friday, she placed a one-line classified in the Daily Nation that read simply: “Do you know ANDERSON OBARE ATUYA? Baptist College Track Team (USA) 1977/1978.” She was afraid it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted to place a bigger advert, but it was too expensive.
However, it worked. The single-line classified ad led to a flood of phone calls to Mr Obare — who earns a living as a taxi driver taking tourists to visit US President Barack Obama’s father’s village in Kogelo.
After many calls, Mr Obare, 55, went to a friend’s home to see the paper for himself.
Recent events had given him little to feel hopeful about. He retired from government and started a business in Kisumu selling motor vehicle spare parts — but saw his dream of a comfortable life burn to the ground, along with his shop, in the post-election riots.
“I almost became a beggar,” he said.
When he saw the advert, he knew he had to respond. But the contact information for his daughter was an e-mail address. Mr Obare never uses the Internet and did not have an e-mail address.
Now it was his turn to work to make the reunion possible. He contacted a niece, who took him to a cyber-cafe, and they responded.
When Ms Chelang’at received the note on her computer screen she had one thought: “What if this is a hoax?”
Mr Obare had to prove himself. They exchanged a few e-mails. First he sent a digital transmission of his Social Security card, a vital identification document in the US. Next, he sent pictures of a young Tramaine, which he had received in the mail years ago from her mother.
It still wasn’t enough. Ms Chelang’at’s mother — back in the US — was adamantly against the reunion and refused to believe Mr Obare was who he claimed to be. But Ms Chelang’at didn’t care. She was poised to realise a lifelong dream.
The father and daughter arranged to meet, and on the advice of the Nation team, decided to meet at the Moi Avenue Primary School bus stop so they could have their reunion at the nearby Nation Media Group headquarters.
The moment was imminent. But fate — and Kenyan livestock — intervened. On the way from Nakuru to Nairobi, the bus carrying Mr Obare hit a donkey. Only 20 minutes from the city centre, they were delayed for nearly three hours as police cleared the accident site.
But finally — after 28 years, one photograph, one classified advertisement, several e-mails, several phone calls and one dead donkey — Mr Obare was going to reunite with his daughter.
On the lookout
He stepped off the bus clutching his luggage and accompanied by a friend, Rachel Moraa, crossed over to Jevanjee Gardens on the lookout for his daughter.
The tears began to flow even before they could embrace next to Ufundi Cooperative Building. They held each other for close to five minutes not wanting to let go of the moment each had longed for.
“My daughter. Oh, my daughter. You look like my first-born daughter… This is a miracle,” Mr Obare said through sobs.
For Ms Chelang’at, she was more composed as she wiped her tears, “It’s OK. It’s OK. I’m here. I’m here,” she said in a heavy American accent.
“I am so energised to have found my father. People told me it was not possible to trace my father, but I always felt it in me that he lived in Kenya,” she said. “My friends in America always tell me I look African-Kenyan. And finally I have a reason to believe so.”
Source: Daily Nation
Comments