LOVE, again

Why is love such an important feature in our lives? Do we love because we want to or we have to? Think about it. You love your parents, why? You were born under their care. They’ve provided for you since birth, and your daily gratitude is slowly forged into a concrete ‘thing’ we end up calling ‘love’. You love your brothers and sisters, after all you’ve grown up with them and are the constant figures you interact with. You might not always get along but you know deep down you always have each other’s backs. Hence you ‘love’ each other. Isn’t this a conditioned stimulus too? We were all taught when we were young that we must always care about this person to whom you’re genetically related. Share your room, toys, books, sometimes clothes. Be good to this person, no buts about it. Help them, guide them, take care of them, and play with them. It wasn’t a choice. Even the Bible approves of this, remember Cain? So you grow up with this ideal that your siblings are held in higher regard than the rest of the population.  Now don’t get all “Where does she come off saying such things?” Humor me, entertain these thoughts.

I know my mother loves me. Heck, I came through her vagina. I was her first. I know it wasn’t easy. I’m in Kenyatta daily and whenever I’m going home, I meet up with mothers who are going home after delivery. It’s gotten to a point where I can tell the first time mothers. They look dazed, hair all over the place. They have this unearthly look in their eyes. Yet they don’t look at their kids. The newborn is usually being held delicately in someone else’s hands. Be it the husband, sister or the new grandmother. The lady looks like she’s here, but than again, not really here. Her stride sluggish, her gait tired and there’s a slow bubbling panic that can only be seen in her eyes. The hair is always the straight giveaway. Here’s a well known secret, hair is a woman’s crowning glory. We struggle with it. Hard or soft, natural or chemical, good or bad hair days, we are forever aware of our hair. So when you see a woman with really horrible hair, no slight attempt to make it better yet not the least bothered, there’s something hugely wrong. That woman is undergoing something that is tearing into her very being. So you’ll always see this crazy, wild, in-your-face type of hair as they walk past you. And they don’t give a shit how they look like or how much you’re staring at them. Now let’s wheel our thoughts back to the main topic, that my mother loves me.

Well, she does but not loves-loves me. That’s reserved for my sister. Sure I’m my mother’s mirror’s image, or so everyone says. But that’s as far as our similarities go. We argue most of the time. It could be all, but sometimes I shut up. She criticizes me more readily than most. Though in her defense, I would be slightly spoilt if she didn’t. Her eyes don’t shine for me though, like even with all your faults you’re still pretty awesome. No, that’s for my sister. I think it all began with the death of my mom’s best friend (since she was in uni) while she was “in the family way” with Serah. Hell, she gave her Dolphine’ s pet name, Dolly. Also my sister looks a lot like her deceased sister (my aunt), so she already has those two loves as an advantage over the rest of us, rather over her other daughter. Sure they fight sometimes but my mom binds more readily to her will. It had reached a point where I would secretly smile if my sister didn’t get her way. Plus my sister is way prettier than I. This is not a case of underrating one’s self, it’s a fact. So is this a case of both having to love (on my part), or wanting to love (think sis)? I’ve always resented my mother because of this, since it always felt like I had to fight for her affection. However my sister won that hands down and I was expected to stomach it because, I was the older one. I had to be the more mature one, the one who gives way. What if you don’t want to give way? Just this once, take my side, Serah can survive one loss of a battle, the war’s hers anyway. Hmmm, maybe that’s where my mummy issues began.

I love my sister, but there’s a part of me that resents her. One, she has my mother’s affections. Two, she is just the brighter spark. I resented her from the day she was brought home, the pretty, quiet, adorably chubby baby. All visitors just come cooing over her with pretty gifts. This is extremely petty even for a four year old but you have to understand that for four years I had been the only girl. No one had prepared me for the freaking usurper that was about to come. And babies are adorable, hands down! Yet I didn’t understand that, and I wasn’t given a briefing. Of course the trip to Manchester to go see my dad just added salt to the newly forming wound when she went alone with my mom. Reasoning was pretty simple, an infant needs to be with mummy, but to a five year old, all she’s seeing is once again the baby was chosen over her. God, I was really something. Over the years, it’s been more of same clothes different colours, (thank goodness my mom grew out of this phase); “don’t put the same hairstyle as me!” ;   fighting over dolls; fighting over wardrobe space; “ who took my perfume?”; “did you disarrange my drawer?  Et cetera, we fight a bit too much. However, there’s one thing this usurper does do, keep me grounded. I can be a bit too much sometimes, willing my way round people (First born syndrome) and she calls me out forthright. No holds barred. Of course I’ll deny it but deep down we both know she’s right and I back off. Plus she’s awesome when she’s got your back.

I love my brothers, they’re awesome. Plus they allow me some first born leeway. Sometimes.

We then meet other people outside our family circle and suddenly you like other people whom you call friends. Then you “fall in love” somewhere along the way. I mean who came up with this falling in love business? Is it still a case of wanting or being required to love? The whole butterflies in the stomach, tingling of lips, wanting to be around each other, synchronizing emotions. Why can’t we just live separate lives and rely on sperm banks and surrogate mothers if you need kids? Why is there an insatiable need for a mate??? Why is it that somewhere along the cards of fortune we have marriage scribbled somewhere along the lines?

I wish that there wasn't this ever gnawing thought at the back of your head whispering to you how you'll never feel realised if you don't have the husband and kid ratio somehow stapled into your plans.

Long ago we used to be paired up on the basis of male capability to provide for the family and wide enough hips signifying fertility. Now we have women leaving with deadbeat on the basis of love! Even Nyeri women have it rough! A guy who drinks all day and comes home expecting you to provide for his drinks the next day with the money that you worked all day for in the farm and market. Why do we see it as a major shock when they end up in hospitals with cuts? The faithful wife who gets STDs from a husband who can’t keep his wee-wee in his pants. The girl with the boyfriend who has the never- ending roving eye. Love usually is biased. There’s the one who loves too much and the one who loves a lot less. That must really suck balls. Count me out. Yeah, I said it love, I don’t want to tango with you anymore. You’re too much work. All three spheres in my life (mind, body and soul) get taken on a rollercoaster ride which has horrible, long lasting side effects. I then have to deal with them for months, months love! Yeah, its time we went our separate ways. Don’t try to stop me. It was fun while it lasted. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. 

P.S I will never criticize any actor again! Went for an audition recently and the mistakes I did are enough to make me want to bury my head in the sand. Props to all actors and actresses out there!