Lamentations of a 23-year-old.

Friends,

Sometimes I write, not because I want to write, but because the conversations in my head don’t allow me to be silent about them. Turns out, unsurprisingly, writing does clear one’s head. Therefore, I need to write.

Anyway recently, I was having a conversation with a friend I met in his fourth year of Uni as I was just beginning my freshman year. He is the older brother to a messed up 20-year-old in my class. And, unlike my other colleagues, I had noticed this my 20-year-old classmate was not ‘well’. Whatever your definition of well or alright is, he was not it. Something was notably off.

I got so relieved when it’s the brother who brought up the story first, and now I had to input how I too had noticed him not being alright. Let’s call this my classmate Jimmy, you know, coz all Jimmys always make good stories. And the older brother, Sam.

Instead of giving you the details in verbatim, I’ll paint a picture of my own:

“What’s wrong with you, Jimmy? You’re twenty now, act like it! It’s like you’re moving backwards!”

That was the beginning of Sam’s close-to-tearful outburst, staring at his younger brother, Jimmy, slumped in a worn-out couch. This is after Jimmy came from the recent Rema concert, soaked in alcohol and smelling of semen. Jimmy is missing a shoe, a belt and his phone. But managed to trek home and Sam ain’t let him even shower first.

Jimmy, once the pride of the family and the customary exception for heir to the wealth of the family, was barely a shadow of his former self. At twenty, we all thought he should have been making strides toward the future by now, but instead, he was evidently stuck—caught up in hitherto unthought of habits, hanging with girls who barely wore clothes, and letting his once-promising potential crumble like sand through his fingers.

Sam, just three years older, has always been his brother’s biggest supporter. As the first-born, he’d been taught to be the responsible one. This was especially tough bearing that Sam was not the educationally gifted one; he was more the athletic one. Muscular. Built like a tank. Built like those Luhya bodybuilders you find in every community gym; yet he rarely is obsessed with the gym. He just plays a lot of football, and good at it too. The same CDM position disturbing Casemiro, he handles like a bulldog.

But as typical to African homes, athletics is not something so highly regarded, especially if the other brother is a skilled mathematician who decided to pursue his CPA. And their sisters, two are doctors at top private hospitals in Munich and Amsterdam. The other one is a chemical engineer at Coca-Cola. But even so, on his end, he had his life notably well together. He had never been interested in the collar jobs or careers, just wanted to play ball. The miniature pay he gets from his football he uses to sustain himself and help the brother too in campus.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had once been the brilliant one—always the magnet of attention, the kid with the charm and grades to match. But as we speak those days are distant, buried under missed opportunities and reckless, impulsive decisions.

“I need to go shower and sleep, Sam.” Jimmy muttered.

Sam shook his head, as I would too. These two were in the same room but clearly different atmospheres. Jimmy wanted to go wash off the dirt from his recent indulgences. Sam, worried by calls from back home, wanted to get his brother back in line not only for the degree but for his whole life. This wasn’t teen years anymore. This is now the “when I grow up” moments, there’s no other.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying? Or the hangover is still messing with your brain? You need to get your sh*t together, man! Look at you, skipping classes, partying every weekend. Your grades are unbelievably terrible! I keep getting calls from lecturers, mom and dad that I ruined you. Do they know the things you’ve been up to?”

There was a pause as Jimmy tried to find an excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. Deep down, he knew his brother was right, and that stung the most. It was easier to drown in distractions than face the cold, hard truth—he is failing.

But intentions and doing the actual things are two distinct and separate events.

Sam softened his voice, the frustration giving way to concern. “You’re only twenty, Jimmy. You can turn this around. Nobody at home is happy about this. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, but the way you’re going, you ar..”

Jimmy didn’t wait to be told what path he has undertaken. He sprung up from the couch, the alcohol stench from his shirt hitting Sam’s nose so powerfully Sam had to readjust his face from concern to disgust. He stormed off the house, coz Sam had blocked the path to the showers with his outstretched leg. He had had enough. In all honesty, Sam had had enough too coz that stench was unbearable. He wanted to speak sense into his brother as fast as possible and let him sprint to the shower. But this would work too, somewhat.

I’m assuming, the weight of his brother’s words pressed down on him as he furiously banged the door on his way out. In his mind, the self-pity and guilt must have been waging war, but he had gotten too proud to show nor admit it. Sam saw the struggle but knew that unless Jimmy was willing to change, there was only so much he could do.

The room remained heavy with silence. Sam stood, staring at the spot where his brother sat. His heart ached, knowing that the words he had spoken were not enough. He wanted to shake Jimmy out of his stupor, but wisdom fought him that sometimes, people had to find their own way.

“At some point, you’ll have to own up to your choices.
The booze and ladies can wait.
Your pedi can definitely wait, you need to stop that sh*t.
I’m going to hunt you down and continue trying to help you, but I can’t save you, Jimmy. Only you can.” ..was the last message Sam sent to Jimmy after numerous rejected calls.

With that, Sam walked off to training for that evening, and I remained glued on the pavement, thinking a lot of things unnecessary to this issue. But, hearing an older brother lament about his younger brother like that brought thoughts of black sheep in families.

Maybe black sheep are to be left out of the flock for a while, or forever. Or they are to be brought back in for transformation. As we speak, Jimmy is probably at Alchemist in Parklands, having another time of his life. His brother has a match today, but he obviously doesn’t know that.

*pedi - local drug peddler.

😃You might have missed my most popular writings😍(so far..)

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2. L after L - what it’s like to feel so desperately that you’re right, but end up wrong nonetheless.

PS: If you have a few seconds to spare, please hit the <reply> button and let me know what you thought of this email. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it and what could be improved. It also reminds me that there’s another person reading it on the other end of my screen😅. Thanks.

Have a wonderful week ahead!

✍🏽Reagan.

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