My brother G is potentially the most annoying person on the face of the earth. He asks too many questions, never washes his dirty dishes, floods the whole house every time he steps in the shower and eats like a famine is looming. He also spits like a pregnant woman and cleans his ears like the tiniest trace of wax will render him deaf.
I have no choice, blood says I have to love him.
He is a walking encyclopaedia. He knows everything about everything before everybody else. He watches and read the news from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning till nature forces them shut at night.
They say he is inquisitive but personally, I think he’s just an amebo.
They say he is intelligent. I say he surrounds himself with dim people to make his light shine brighter.
They say he is a budding politician, full of integrity. I say when he gets in there, he will steal all their money.
They say he is generous. I say he’s trying to buy their votes. His kobo does not fall in our compound.
They say he is sweet. I disagree. I’ll tell you why.
Last year my flat got burgled while I was at work slaving away to pay for the things the thieves stole. The world was concerned about my safety. ‘Don’t stay at home alone,’ everyone said. ‘Why not?’ I responded defiantly. I wasn’t going to let anyone rob me of my sense of security. Yet for a whole week I slept with a piece of wood by my bedside, ready to clobber anyone that ventured into my flat.
‘I’m coming to London,’ brother G said to me.
‘Why?’ I asked. I didn’t want company. I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t scared.
‘I have to work in London on Monday and I need somewhere to stay.’
Ooohhh, I moaned to myself. Which stupid work is this one doing in London?! I couldn’t leave him stranded. I said it was fine, I’d be home.
He showed up the following day, a Sunday, and unusually, stayed home all day. No friends to visit, no dinners to attend…nothing. It wasn’t till he left early on Monday morning to go to work in his village that I realised he had nothing to do in London…nothing besides checking up on me, making sure I was okay.
I did tell you he is an amebo didn’t I?!
Happy Birthday bro. Love you…but only because blood says I have to.