I have a little brother, for those of you who do not know. That’s him, the tablet (discussing this later) and myself here.
I like having a little brother, I wouldn’t trade that for the world but there are days when I wish I wasn’t the oldest.
In Nigerian households, age determines pretty much everything. I’m the eldest grandchild on both sides of the equation. You know how it is, all your little cousins are instructed to call you auntie and if your relatives are really Nigerian (thankfully, this isn’t the case for me), the little boys will start prostrating for you and the little girls will start curtseying too. It is mortifying, let me just tell you that. I am an activist when it comes to kids doing that to me. I’m still a kid as well so who am I to demand respect in that way?
Anyway, being the oldest can be a drag some days. You are the pinnacle, you are the golden example. You slip up and you are partially responsible for the (possible) failures of those who fall behind you. It’s a big deal. If your youngers are messing up, you need to get their asses back in line because you’re letting the troop down. When I finally got in to university, I got phone calls from everyone, congratulatory messages flew in from all directions. My uncles reminded me that I was indeed the oldest and I was leading all my cousins down the right path. No pressure.
Yesterday, my brother f*cked up. My dad bought him a tablet for his birthday this year and within a month, this brother of mine cracked the screen. It still works but it has this black blob right in the middle, pretty unsightly. My dad recently remembered that he had bought it for him and was asking why he hardly used it anymore, considering it was only a few months old. My brother would slyly dodge that bullet and say it was dead. Well, yesterday my dad wasn’t having that. He wanted to see it. Let it charge all day but he wanted to see it switched on. Long story short, my brother switched it on, my mum saw the black blob and asked what it was, my brother had the guts to say it was a customisation he’d done to the screen. If it wasn’t such an intense moment, I might have rolled on the floor with laughter. Soon after, my dad pointed to me and this followed:
“Your sister doesn’t lie! She might give you the run-around but she’ll get to the truth eventually! Why can’t you be more like your sister? Bolade (my Nigerian name, by the way. Pronounced bo-la-dey), talk to your brother and find out what his problem is.”
Am I Crimewatch, people?
I like being a big sister, I do. I am protective of my brother because, after all, he’s the only sibling I have and I do hate seeing him in trouble but jeez. This must be a problem a lot of fellow older siblings face. I can complain about this from morning ‘til night but this is a just a responsibility for life, I suppose.
But besides that, I have a cold and I’m feeling rather slow, if you couldn’t already tell. I need to beat this before Christmas Day or how am I going to chow down effectively? Pray for me, please. I can’t not induce myself into a state of comatose due to over-eating this year. It breaks the tradition.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
No rant, this itself feels rather rant-y.
Oh and my exam on Friday went alright. My friend caught someone cheating throughout the whole thing. Just casually scrolling on his phone under the desk. Best believe, she reported his hairy self.
Quote of the Week –