My Brother, whose Brother?


What a title right? Well, here is its explanation. When I fought some tough fights in primary school to protect my brother, and when the head teacher or whoever asked me after managing to separate the fight why I fought, I always answered thus ” I saw them beating my brother, whose brother?” l cared less if he was at fault!

Last week, I wrote a post on sibling love and how tough it was for me, wondering how tougher it should be.  I said my brother, my one and only bore of our mother, was my favorite.

Well, you will not fight five big girls or even boys if what you fought for wasn’t worth it, right?

Oh, how l miss my brother. I mean we talk to each other often but things are not the same anymore. We live continents apart and have tough personal struggles going on every now and then.

I miss my brother
I miss my brother

When I came across this picture quote, I was shaken with tears for so many memories abound:

I miss my brother
I miss my brother

And here are a few:

I remember in 2003 when I announced to my family that I was pregnant and out of wedlock. Oh no, visualize a scene for yourselves in a typical african family – hmm and who was the biological father of that ‘foetus’ – A PRIEST!

Sure, hell broke loose. My brother woke up to screams and slaps and curses, and even though he was very sick, he stormed that room and displayed to protect me and my womb.

He asked if I had killed anybody and the answer was no. He asked if I was of Ben laden and the answer was no. He chided them to go after Ben Laden and to leave me alone. Period. He ordered me to come and sleep by him and he would see who will dare touch me again.

I did sit on his bed as he tried to sleep but I couldn’t out of so much Fear. I feared the ‘saga’ will resume and I feared for my brother who had over agitated and gotten so nervous and dare I say violent? He was currently going through several health problems amongst which was a depression.

Of course the next morning, he broke down and had to be rushed to a neurologist cum psychiatrist. He at some lucid interval asked that I come and stay with him in the hospital and I gladly did for his one week stay there.

I also remember the first eyeliner I got. It was blue my favorite colour and it was from my brother, sent all the way from Germany.

So, it is easy to imagine the kind of bond I have with my brother. l was a tom boy because I played with my brother who had no brother at home or friends so to speak in the neighbourhood. I won’t even talk about the relationship he had with our dad.

As I write this post, my brother still has a lot of issues and all I can do is call him every now and then and just talk with him as he wants. He appreciates my calls and he sometimes shares memories.

Yes, I will always love my brother above all. I accompanied him to apply for and get his visa and papers and I will hopefully visit him next year. For now, all I can say is: My brother, whose brother…

Dear gentle followers of mine, what is your take and what do you have to say or share?

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8 thoughts on “My Brother, whose Brother?”

  1. This is a touching post Marie. I can feel the pain as I read and can also imagine how much you miss your brother. Hopefully you’ll be able to see him again soon. I pray that God will heal his mind, body and soul and restore his health. Amen.

    Enjoy the rest of the day. 🙂

  2. Hi Marie! I feel similar, I’m the older brother to my younger sister. Sure we talk, but we live on different continents and each have our own trials and tribulations. So it’s definitely not the same. I wish I could have her close by to protect her!! Thanks for sharing, I hope you’re well!!! 🙂

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