Tribute to My Father – Mzee Benard Ombati

There are moments in life that hit without warning. Grief is one of them. If it finds you unprepared, it can pull you into a place you never imagined you could be. And yet, in the midst of that pain, there is reflection.

As children, many of us are privileged to grow up under the guidance of our parents. We spend years in their presence; learning, observing, and being shaped, often without realizing it. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and eventually years. In that passage of time, we are quietly molded into who we become.

Some parents are rare. They are not just providers, but builders of character. My father, Mzee Benard Ombati, was one of those rare men.

He was a loving and deeply hardworking father. A tailor by profession, he spent his days in repairing worn-out clothes and making school uniforms; quietly serving his community with dignity. He did not believe in rest for the sake of comfort. To him, work was responsibility, and responsibility was life. Unless he was sick, he worked day in, day out.

But what set him apart was not just what he did, it was how he lived.

He believed in two things above all else: hard work and discipline. These were not just words he spoke to us. They were principles he embodied every single day.

I remember a moment that defined my life.

At around seven or eight years old, I came home drunk after taking local brew with a friend. I was a stubborn, disobedient child at the time, heading down a dangerous path. When my father saw me, he was shocked and what followed was one of the toughest experiences of my life. He beat me severely.

At that moment, I hated it. I didn’t understand it.But that day changed me.

Looking back now, I see it differently. That was the moment discipline was truly planted in me. It was not gentle. It was not comfortable. But it was effective. From that day forward, I changed. I stopped drinking. I became obedient. I began to understand responsibility.

To this day, I tell people something that may sound strange but it is true:
That moment is one of my most defining memories with my father.Because it worked.

As I grew older, especially in high school when I lived with him, his guidance became even clearer. Every day, he would talk to us, not just as children, but as individuals preparing to face the world. He spoke about life, about character, about work, about marriage, about responsibility. He did not hide the realities of the world. He made them plain.

And most importantly~ he believed in me.

Everything I am today is rooted in him.

The discipline I carry.The decisions I make.
The way I approach work.
The standards I hold myself to.

All of it traces back to my father.

Today, as I build my life and pursue my ambitions , especially in business, I am not starting from zero. I am building on a foundation he laid. His work as a tailor, his commitment to excellence, his refusal to be average; those same principles now drive me as I work to build something greater.

I am committed to becoming the man he believed I could be.Not just for myself, but as a continuation of his legacy.

My father may be gone, but his work is not finished.It lives on in me.And everything I build from here forward will carry his name, his values, and his spirit.

Rest well, Dad.
Your work continues.