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I have tried to tell the story of my father, our father, as best as I can with the distinguished assistance of my co-author, Frank Koyoo. Frank came to me with this idea and revealed that he had begun to do a story about my father Barack Hussein Obama. He wanted to write this book, but he did not feel that he was the right person to do it. He knew that his story’s subjects were alive, and he proceeded to seek out the one who would have the best and most knowledgeable information about the man. He came to me, and although I, at first, was hesitant and uncertain about his intentions and the project in general, I realized that this was a real opportunity to tell our father’s story, an authentic account from an authentic source. We have tried to do our best in telling the story of a man who started out from the heart of the African bushland, traveled to heart of the great American continent, and achieved the highest in intellectual accomplishments, returning to his native Africa, of which he had the highest esteem. His dream was to restore Africa to its historical greatness, to establish and build a new and better place for his people. His goal was for a place where his children and the children of his people lived in a land of plenty in peace, love, and harmony. His passion was education, honesty, and perfection. He had lofty ideals and was generous and kind. He had his shortcomings as is natural for all of us. This is his story; some of it is factual, some of it as close to factual as could be, and others made to most closely fit into the general picture of Luoland, Kenya, and Luo culture. Things did not turn out as he had planned, and life was great at one time and at the lowest at others, but he kept on until he met his death at the young age of forty-six on 26 November 1982. His life was cut short when he was getting back on his feet. There was talk about the circumstances of my father’s death. It was difficult to accept that he had died. There was talk that he had been in the company of friends, the identity of whom is still a mystery, and had received some large sums of cash, the whereabouts of which no one has ever been able to determine, a classic conspiracy theory that may have some truth to it because my father was pulling himself together and was getting back on his feet. Somebody somewhere was bound to be threatened and could have had a hand in his death. Barack Hussein Obama; son of Akumu Nyanjoga (daughter of Njoga). Years have turned over, and memories have dimmed in some places, but all in all, we have done our best and hope that justice has been done and that you, our readers, find this material excellent to read and to your approval. We hope that wherever he is, he can look back and through us feel vindicated. He did his bit, and now he can look at us and heave a sigh of relief, knowing that we are doing well. Rest in peace, Dad; we love you.
