Olivia
Online
Arthur Kiathi
@NgigiArthur
A HUSBAND AND A FATHER
A BORN AGAIN CHRISTIAN
A JOURNALIST AT MWANGAZA TV, KIHEO TV AND MWANGAZA WA NENO FM
INTERESTED ON RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL MATTERS
Nairobi, Kenya
Joined October 2016
556 Following
131 Followers
129 Posts
Pinned Tweet
@WilliamsRuto Please follow me I follow back...
Please
@jpattueyi This is deep.
Every Sunday at exactly 3:17 p.m., my father called me.
Not 3:15.
Not 3:20.
3:17.
It started a month after he retired.
At first, I thought it was boredom. Then habit. Then aging.
But it never changed.
If I picked up, he’d say the same thing:
“Are you home?”
If I said yes, he’d reply, “Good. Just checking,” and hang up.
If I said no, there’d be a pause.
Then he’d say, “Alright. Call me when you’re back.”
That was it.
No small talk. No updates. No “how are you?”
Just… checking.
My wife thought it was sweet.
I thought it was strange.
One Sunday, I decided not to answer.
I was home. I just let it ring.
At 3:18 p.m., he called again.
I ignored it.
At 3:19 p.m., my wife’s phone rang.
She frowned. “It’s your dad.”
I gestured for her not to answer.
The phone stopped.
At 3:21 p.m., the landline rang.
No one even has that number.
We stared at it.
It stopped after five rings.
At 3:24 p.m., someone knocked on the door.
Three sharp knocks.
Not aggressive.
Precise.
I opened it.
My father stood there.
Calm. Neatly dressed. Slightly out of breath.
“Why didn’t you answer?” he asked.
“I was busy.”
He looked past me into the living room.
“You’re home.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
Then said something he’d never said before.
“Good.”
And he left.
That night, I drove to his house.
I needed to understand.
He lived alone since my mother passed. Same house I grew up in. Same curtains.
He opened the door before I knocked.
“You came,” he said.
“Dad, why do you call every Sunday?”
He studied me for a moment.
“Come in.”
We sat at the dining table.
He didn’t speak immediately. He rarely does.
Finally, he stood up and walked to a locked drawer in the hallway.
He pulled out a thin folder.
Inside were newspaper clippings.
House fires.
Robberies.
Gas leaks.
Carbon monoxide deaths.
All circled in red.
“Every single one,” he said quietly, “happened on a Sunday afternoon.”
I blinked. “That doesn’t mean..”
He held up a hand.
“When your mother died, I was in the garden.”
I swallowed.
“I was ten feet away. Ten feet. She called once. I didn’t hear her.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I promised myself,” he continued, “that if something ever happened to you, I would not be in the garden.”
My chest tightened.
“So you call me to make sure I’m alive?”
He looked at me steadily.
“No.”
A long pause.
“I call to make sure you answer.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“If you answer, I know you can.”
The words didn’t land immediately.
Then they did.
“If you couldn’t answer,” he continued calmly, “I would already be driving.”
My stomach dropped.
“You��ve been ready to come over every Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“Even when I said I wasn’t home?”
He nodded.
“I wait ten minutes. Then I check.”
A cold realization crept up my spine.
“Dad… how many times have you come?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked toward the window.
“Six.”
Six Sundays.
Six times he drove to my house.
Six times he must have stood outside.
Watching.
Making sure.
I tried to laugh it off.
“That’s extreme.”
He didn’t smile.
“You think emergencies schedule appointments?”
We sat there in heavy silence.
Then I asked the question that had been building all evening.
“Why 3:17?”
For the first time, his composure cracked.
“That’s the time on the hospital clock,” he said softly, “when they told me she was gone.”
The air left my lungs.
He wasn’t checking on me.
He was trying to outrun a minute.
Every Sunday.
For years.
I drove home that night differently.
The following Sunday at 3:16 p.m., my phone was in my hand.
At 3:17, it rang.
I answered on the first vibration.
“Hi Dad.”
There was a pause.
Then, for the first time ever, he said something new.
“I know.”
And he hung up.
@rumilyrics Progress... Ata sijaona ingine
@LoveLove4104 @it_Rutie The best comment to defend men. Men do much more sacrifices, mostly in silence. If men were to pour out what they go through, children would hate their mothers.
@Godfreykaugo @magwaz3 Very true. They are Leaderless, Formless, Partyless, Homeless, watasaidikaje?
@OsoroSylvanus Congrats to Him
@WilliamsRuto Congrats
@MigunaMiguna Open Letter to the President of Kenya H.E Dr. William Ruto @WilliamsRuto @StateHouseKenya
An Open Letter to The President of Kenya H.E Dr. William Ruto @WilliamsRuto
#NewCabinet
@rigathi @RailaOdinga @DrAlfredMutua @HonWetangula @EzekielMutua @MwauraIsaac1 @DrKibicho @ProfKibwana @ProfOjiendaTom @bantigito @KindikiKithure @StateHouseKenya @_KasKazini @MutahiNgunyi
@OsoroSylvanus This tells it all that indeed some are working for someone
@OsoroSylvanus Mhesh... And this is the generation that wants to take up power.
I dont dispute that there are things that have been done wrong and need correction, but jameni you the young people, heshima si utumwa. What you despise shall never come to you
Last Seen Users on Sotwe
Most Popular Users
Elon Musk 
@elonmusk
241.5M followers
Barack Obama
@barackobama
118.9M followers
Cristiano Ronaldo
@cristiano
114.6M followers
Donald J. Trump
@realdonaldtrump
111.8M followers
Narendra Modi
@narendramodi
107.1M followers
Rihanna
@rihanna
98.7M followers
NASA
@nasa
92.3M followers
Justin Bieber
@justinbieber
91.8M followers
KATY PERRY
@katyperry
90M followers
Taylor Swift
@taylorswift13
84M followers
Lady Gaga
@ladygaga
75.5M followers
Virat Kohli
@imvkohli
73.5M followers
Kim Kardashian
@kimkardashian
70.9M followers
YouTube
@youtube
68.8M followers
Neymar Jr
@neymarjr
66.5M followers
Bill Gates
@billgates
65.2M followers
Selena Gomez
@selenagomez
63.1M followers
The Ellen Show
@theellenshow
62.2M followers
CNN
@cnn
61.8M followers
X
@x
60.7M followers