Dear Mathe,
Today marks 18 years since you left us. And if there is one thing I wish I could do, it would be to sit down with you, just the two of us, and tell you everything that has happened since.
Where would I even begin?
Perhaps with that little boy in Standard One who thought he could impress you by finishing his examination before everyone else. You were invigilating, and I hurriedly handed in my paper. You started marking it right there, called me over, caned me and sent me back to complete a question. Then you did it again!
I learnt my lesson. From then on, I paid attention to every question. I eventually scored 700/700, a record I still remember with pride.
Mathe, you never allowed me to settle for less than you believed I was capable of.
Remember how you insisted I join Strathmore College before university? And how you insisted I pursue ACCA, the more expensive international qualification, rather than CPA(K)? Fathe was hesitant, but you stood your ground.
Then came the day Fathe couldn’t afford my examination fees. You borrowed KES 42,000 from your chama to make sure I sat those exams.
I wonder whether you knew just how much that decision would shape my life.
And remember university?
I was juggling Computer Science, ACCA and competitive football. At some point, I wanted to quit after my second year, take my diploma and move on. I already had my ACCA qualification.
Your response?
“Don’t even try to mention that to your father!”
You weren’t having any of it!
There was also that disciplinary case I was secretly fighting. I intercepted letters from the university until one day their van showed up at our gate demanding KES 16,000 for a colleague’s lost laptop. I maintained that I wasn’t responsible and didn’t want you to pay.
The following day, I was at the university when I saw you walking in, in your usual steady fashion. You had come to settle the matter so I could resume my studies.
That’s who you were, Mathe. When something threatened your children’s future, you found a way.
Now, let me tell you what happened next.
Not long after you left, I went on to work for the World Scout Bureau and the United Nations in Geneva. Imagine that, Mathe! Your son working at the UN, meeting people from different countries and cultures.
Then, in 2018, I did something you might have found hard to understand. I left that career to pursue a dream involving football.
Yes, football!
That same game I spent so much time playing when I should probably have been studying.
I founded The Football Foundation for Africa in 2018. Today, we’re creating opportunities for young Africans through football, building relationships across the continent, and advocating for football to be recognised as an important part of Africa’s development.
Just two weeks ago, we delivered the fifth Africa Football Business Summit in Accra, Ghana. Our first edition outside Kenya.
Mathe, it wasn’t easy. There were moments when I wondered whether I could keep going. Moments when resources were scarce, plans fell apart, and the responsibility felt overwhelming.
But somehow, we kept finding a way. I think you would recognise that determination.
And here’s something I know would make you smile.
Strathmore, the institution you insisted I attend, honoured me as its inaugural Alumni of the Year for Service to Society.
The boy whose examination fees you borrowed from your chama eventually returned to that institution to receive an award for serving others.
I wish you had been there.
Not because I needed you to see the award, but because I wanted to see your face.
And Mathe, there’s more.
Earlier this year, I was shortlisted and interviewed for the position of General Secretary of the Confederation of African Football (CAF), the highest administrative position in African football.
Imagine that, Mathe!
I didn’t get the job, but that’s alright. I have The Football Foundation for Africa to build, and there’s still so much work to do.
You see, Mathe, I’m no longer just looking for opportunities for myself. I’m working to create opportunities for others, especially young Africans whose potential might otherwise go unrealised.
And next week, I’m heading back to Accra for the Powered by Africa Conference, where I’ve been nominated among the Top 100 Most Influential Africans in Infrastructure.
Infrastructure, Mathe! And all because of football!
Who would have imagined that the game I loved so much as a boy would open these doors?
I wish I could explain how we’ve come to see football not merely as a game, but as infrastructure that can create opportunities, strengthen communities, and contribute to Africa’s future.
I think you’d have a few questions. And I would love every minute of answering them. I have so much more to tell you. About the people I’ve met, the friendships I’ve made, the places I’ve travelled, the mistakes I’ve made, and the lessons life keeps teaching me. I would tell you that I am still figuring things out.
That despite everything I’ve accomplished, there are days when I feel like that little boy who needs his mother to remind him to go back and finish the question properly.
And I would tell you that I understand some of your sacrifices differently now.
At seven, I saw a strict teacher.
At university, I saw a mother who wouldn’t let me quit.
Today, I see a woman who was investing everything she could in a future she would never live to witness.
Eighteen years later, Mathe, your investment is still bearing fruit.
I wish we could sit together for just one afternoon. I would have so many stories, and probably even more questions.
But above all, I would want to thank you.
For the sacrifices I knew about and those I never discovered.
For believing in me before I had achieved anything.
For refusing to let temporary circumstances determine my future.
And for teaching me, through your own example, that when something matters enough, you find a way.
I hope I’m making you proud, Mathe.
I’m still learning. Still growing. Still becoming.
And wherever life takes me next, a part of you will always be there.
18 years without you. A lifetime of carrying you with me.
With love,
Your son, Steve. ❤️
Clementine Mulindi Wesaala
(November 23, 1953 – November 7, 2008)
Earlier reflections on Mathe
Over the years, I have written about my mother, her sacrifices, the lessons she taught me, and the ways her presence continues to shape my life.
These two earlier reflections offer a little more of her story and the woman behind the memories shared in this letter.
