One day, I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole #50 from my father’s drawer. Father discovered about the stolen money right away. ‘Who stole the money?’ he asked my brother and me.

I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, ‘Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you both should be punished!’ Suddenly, my younger brother gripped Father’s hand and said, ‘Dad, I was the one who did it!’ He took the blame, and punishment, for me.

In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, ‘Sis, now don’t cry anymore. Everything has happened.’ I will never forget my brother’s expression when he protected me. That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old. I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did. Years went by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened yesterday.

When my brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central part of town. At the same time, I was accepted into a university in the province.

That night, Father squatted in the yard, smoking packet by packet. I could hear him ask my mother, ‘Both of our children, they have good results? Very good results?’

Mother wiped off her tears and sighed, ‘What is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?’

At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front of Father and said, ‘Dad, I don’t want to continue my study anymore, I have read enough books.’ Father became angry.

‘Why do you have a spirit so weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will send you two to school until you have both finished your studies!’ And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow money.

I stuck out my hand as gently as I could to my brother’s face, and told him, ‘A boy has to continue his study. If not, he will not be able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing.’ I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study at the university.

Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to my side of the bed and left a note on my pillow; ‘Sis, getting into a university is not easy. I will go find a job and I will send money to you.’ I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my voice.

With the money father borrowed from the whole village, and the money my brother earned from carrying cement on his back at a construction site, finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the university. That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old.

One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate came in and told me, ‘There’s a villager waiting for you outside!’ Why would there be a villager looking for me? I walked out, and I saw my brother from afar. His whole body was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked him, ‘Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my brother?’

He replied with a smile, ‘Look at my appearance. What will they think if they would know that I am your brother? Won’t they laugh at you?’

I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dirt and dust from my brother’s body. And told him with a lump in my throat, ‘I don’t care what people would say! You are my brother no matter what your appearance.’

From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He put it on my hair and said, ‘I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. I think you should also have one.’ I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my brother into my arms and cried. That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old.

After I got married, I lived in the city. Many times my husband invited my parents to come and live with us, but they didn’t want. They said once they left the village, they wouldn’t know what to do. My brother agreed with them. He said, ‘Sis, you just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of Mom and Dad here.’

My husband became the directors of his factory. We asked my brother to accept the offer of being the manager in the maintenance department. But my brother

CONTINUE

how boys are raised to worship girls. never will my son have such a slave mentality.

ubunja:
how boys are raised to worship girls. never will my son have such a slave mentality.

I thought was the only one that observe this nonsense, parents most especially women raising boys to worship girls.
I will never raise my son that way even my wife can never try it.

Sierusvirus:

I thought was the only one that observe this nonsense, parents most especially women raising boys to worship girls.
I will never raise my son that way even my wife can never try it.

no wonder women are so entitled and think men are their servants. smh