I’m your father, but don’t call me dad
CHRISTINE with her son, Victor in the late 80s. THE couple on their wedding day in 1998. DR TARCISIUS Mukuka with his wife Christine. The secret a Catholic priest could no longer keep JACK ZIMBA O NE frigid morning in July 1996, in a hotel room at the Lusaka Hotel, a Catholic priest told an eight-year-old boy in his care that he had a little secret to tell him. “Young man,” the priest said, while helping the little boy to dress up, “there is something I need to tell you.” “What is it uncle?” the boy said. He had always known the priest as a generous uncle who usually visited his home, bringing him gifts. “I’m not your uncle, I’m your dad,” replied the priest. “So can I call you dad?” the boy asked, bemused. The priest said: “Okay, when the two of us are together like this, call me dad. But I’m still working for a church that says I cannot be dad, so in public don’t call me dad.” Today, Dr Tarcisius Mukuka, who is no longer