A cup of cappuccino coffee is pictured at a Nairobi Java House outlet in Nairobi
I was raised by my mother and her side of the family. He never played a part in my upbringing and it’s something that still bothers me. 
Though I don’t bring it up often, but I do sometimes make sure he feels it whenever we are together. 

He also questions why I do certain things, like tell him I love him. He says he finds it strange. 

He never openly shows affection, nor says anything to my siblings and I that make us feel special. But we are adults and largely don’t mind. We are trying to make sure he tells our younger siblings that he loves them, that they are special and he will be there for them at every turn. 

For the longest time I searched for something that would connect us and I kept coming up empty. 
That is until I went to Kenya and came back with bags of coffee beans, and we finally found something that we can bond over: our love for coffee. 

He’s not a sophisticated coffee drinker, but he will shell out money to buy the good stuff. I was surprised a few years ago when he gave me a package with three bags of coffee beans he got from his coffee club, for my birthday. 

We can talk for hours about great coffee, which country in the continent has the best and why he refuses to buy certain brands. 

I never thought that coffee would play such an important role in building a bond between my father and me, but it did. It really does take the small things to keep people connected.