If you have been following my blog then you have hopefully read my poem Sisi P.Well where there is a Sisi P, there is a bhudhi Simba. True story hey, my mum and dad raised me to never call my elder siblings by their first name, its a sign of great disrespect, there always has to be a Sisi (if it is your elder sister) before their name, or a bhudhi(if it is your elder brother). Now that you have learnt of some African culture you are welcome.
I love my brother! Twenty one year old version of myself can say that, not sure about previous years. For as long as I could remember my brother was this looming presence that I shared a mother, sister and home with. I did not care much about his life until he left for boarding school and I was the television queen again.I do remember Pokemon and marble games here and there but his dark presence out weighs those, as far as my childhood is concerned.
The last day before the school term was to end, whenever I would make a left turn into our home street, I would be greeted by loud DMX or Eminem music, a symbolic sign of his return. No more cartoons, would be the first thought, but that was not the worst part of it.I could never do anything right, cleaning, preparing breakfast, I mean he even criticized the way I talked. Most may dismiss it as classic sibling interaction, whatever it was, it caused me to deeply loathe him. Almost every day of the school holidays I was assured i would cry, if not this then that. To be frank I hated him and never understood why he was such a miserable man.
In my second year of high school my brother left for University. Before he did he took the time to visit me in boarding school, which was out of anyone’s way. I knew it was by his own will because you can never get him to do something he does not want, ever. I was astonished and did not know what to say or do. It was an awkward interaction to say the least and the whole time I thought I liked it better when he belittled me, because that I was used to.
Looking back now I think that was the ice breaker, we talked more after that. His repulsive comments turned more into constructive criticism, a building block for my creativity. Fast forward to now, I can confidently say he is the best brother ever, I always feel that he is the one person who will listen to my melodramatic rants no prejudice. I sometimes forget there was a time I could not bump into him later on hug or embrace him without serious consequence. My brother is a very significant part of my life and he brings with him insight and genuine concern among other contributions.
Why the rant? Well his birthday is around the corner, so I am easing into the best sister of the year vibes, lol. To be honest, it is that time when people actually put in some effort at trying to be better people, new year new me kind of stuff. Maybe my little story will inspire you to reconcile or try harder to connect with your family. Family is very important and you might find it is what you have been missing to make you worlds better than your 2016 self. Happy new year and happy birthday Big Bro.