Like movies, I read books in parts and only write about the parts that excite me. I almost never finish a book because the later sections get boring and I get too lazy to read.
That is not the case this time. This time the whole book excites me. You see when people ask “What have you achieved this year?” I will fish out this book and tell them that for once in my life I have read a book without the pressure of being questioned in a national exam or someone taking my phone away. This one I’ve read with heart and soul. I don’t know if it was the yellow cover that got me so excited, or Biko’s sarcasm. Either way, here’s the book review:
For a book I got earlier in the year and have re-read a couple of times already, I wanted to dedicate a good article to it. Everybody’s argued in their lives—with lovers, friends, family. Sometimes it is about the most useless of things that do not move a needle. Other times it is about matters of national security.
I will not dwell much on my own relationship arguments. But the most recent one I had, and probably the most trivial, was when I refused to go somewhere with someone because she had jewelry on.
I don’t know if it was the SDA in me, or my personal experience with jewelry, but looking back it was a stupid decision on my part. I’ve never worn jewelry. Like neckties, I think they are an unnecessary part of clothing. I think people look better without them. All my past girlfriends know this; I’m just letting you guys in the loop now because it is a past argument. I also don’t know if it’s because, growing up, none of the females in our house wore jewelry—even my aunts who stayed with us. I think it has made me more attracted to women who don’t wear jewelry.
One thing the book has taught me is that childhood massively impacts our adult relationships. And even that is an understatement. Biko sandwiches anecdotes between the stories of how childhood shapes relationships. The way I never received much physical touch in childhood is probably the same way I didn’t grow up around much jewelry. Both have shown up in all my relationships. So when I had an argument about jewelry, it was the most ridiculous argument. She couldn’t believe it, and even I can’t believe it now, looking back.
It sounds like such a trivial thing. It does. Everyone wears jewelry nowadays. But for reasons even I can’t fully explain, it makes me cringe and uneasy. So to avoid making her feel bad anymore, I told her to be free and wear them, and I’d find someone who doesn’t. That way we’d both be happy in our own skins. I even promised not to make that face I make when I’m uncomfortable. I told her it’s something I’m not willing to compromise on. And that’s how the argument ended.
The face.
In Jackson Biko’s Big Little Fights, the book is a collection of real-life stories of how different people argue in their relationships. In short, it’s a book about how we all argue; just in different rooms, at different times, with different people.
There’s one where a girl falls crazily in love with her pastor, only for the pastor to hear a “voice from God” telling him he should marry a friend of hers from the same church, and not her. I’ve been on the receiving end of lying pastors, twice, so I felt for her. Especially when you’re a vulnerable young lady whose parents are dead and you have no one else to lean on but the proclaimed “man of God”.
Or the one where the lady gets upset over an “exposed” banana handed to her by her fiancé. Then they don’t talk to each other for a while because he picked the wrong banana from a bunch she had personally picked at the market.
Or the one where the lady forgets her man’s birthday and tries to make it up to him by having “amazing sex” in an Airbnb in Nanyuki. The Airbnb has sliding glass doors you can open to let the sun hit your naked skin after an amazing time, with red wine on the bed counter. Imagine that, drinking wine naked in a well-lit room; honestly what better birthday gift could someone want? But ladies, know this: men’s egos are fragile. Something as little as forgetting their birthday seems not to be atoned for by anything else, even great sex in front of a sunset.
There’s one where the lady doesn’t know how to sit on her bike for their morning rides. The man is bothered that it affects her posture and that people look at his girlfriend’s butt on the bike.
Or the one where they’re in a long-distance relationship and the lady has to travel from Kisumu to Nairobi often to see her boyfriend perform at the theatre. What pains her is that, to her, he is not a good actor. She doesn’t see him having what it takes to be a performer. Which is an opinion, not necessarily fact. All his shows are terrible and she has to feign applause to make him happy. But one can only pretend for so long.
Or the one where she is a drunkard because her father was a drunkard, and he is as sober as an SDA.
Or the one where the lady allegedly flirts with Ali from the boat at the coast and it ruins their beach sunset experience.
Or the one where he is happy that her father died.
Or should I tell you about the one where the girl grills some chicken on a Saturday evening and takes it to her man as a surprise, only to find him with a “raggedy witch” in “black lipstick” wearing “nothing but his t-shirt”. She then steals his car (she doesn’t know how to drive) and rear-ends someone a few blocks out. This one was interesting because even though the man was in the wrong for a lot in the relationship, stealing and crashing his car was crossing the line! A Discovery 4, mind you. You can cheat on a man, abuse his family, go curse him at your local witch, but don’t touch his car or his PS5. Those two are like the holy grail of happiness for a man.
Or the one where the sex was terrible but at least he had a big king-size bed.
There’s one that again shows just how fragile men’s egos are. While the couple is having drinks at a bar in Kisumu, the man’s wife sees a not-so-famous comedian walk in and goes over to say hello. She’s an extrovert, the husband is barely an introvert. What should have been just a simple hello, maybe an autograph or a picture, turns into a whole hour of talking and laughing at the not-so-funny comedian’s jokes. He even buys her a drink, and together with her loud laughter at the comedian’s jokes, it becomes a bone of contention for the rest of their relationship.
The husband argues, “What was that, Rose? You and that half-ass clown. What the hell was that giggling at the bar?”
After a little back and forth.
The wife: “What do you hate the most anyway, Ian? That another man bought me a drink? Or that he made me laugh?”
“None of the above. I don’t mind men buying you drinks, Rose! Or making you laugh. What I hate is that you just abandoned your station.”
“You mean abandoned you?” Pointing at him with her toothbrush.
“I have no feelings for the guy,” she continues. “I don’t want to run off with him and spend the rest of my life laughing. Men stop being funny as they grow old anyway. Look at you. You were funny once. Now you are just a grumpy, middle-aged man in his second marriage who takes a year to read a small book. But you are the one I love.”
They are still married.
From a third party’s view who’s been invited into this couple’s argument, I would say: ladies, don’t laugh at someone else’s jokes louder than your man’s. He might not be the funniest or the cleverest at forming a joke. Heck, we’re not all comedians. Still, don’t laugh at someone’s jokes louder than your man’s, especially when he’s seated across the room.
Fragile egos.
One of the arguments in the book that actually pissed me off was about a couple living with the man’s parents. They’re an Indian family, so the parents were still obsessed with traditional marriage roles: the wife must cook, clean, rub her in-laws’ feet, and still go to work. The wife was a flight attendant; the man was a pilot in the same airline. The mother-in-law had a full-time job of being a pain in the ass. The wife had to quit her job in the cabin crew to appease her mother-in-law and to be a “dutiful wife” to her husband. But obviously mother-in-laws can never be appeased. The couple had frequent arguments because she felt her husband didn’t protect her from the laced abuses his mother hurled at her.
Her husband was a quiet man, maybe too quiet. Trips to different parts of the world were a solace and great escape for him because when he got days off to see his wife, her mother-in-law was always there, shouting about the new mistake his wife had made.
Until one day the husband put his foot down and did what he should have done a long time ago: he told his parents to leave his marriage alone and move out. Finally she felt like her husband had stood up for her.
I don’t know, but if I ever get married, I want it to end because of natural causes like death or a fruit falling on her head—not because a mother-in-law dislikes how I wear shorts everywhere, or how I help my wife cook after a tiring day at work.
I’ve already spoiled the book enough for you.
But I’ve only done my best in summarizing. Biko writes in a way that will make you feel like you’re in the room with the couples; you can feel the tension in the air and imagine chairs being thrown over your head.
He—or rather the book—will also make you realize that every single person in the world argues with their partner, their friends, or their family. When people say “it is life,” that is exactly what they mean: there will be bright days and dark days; there’ll be arguments and making up. Some end in divorce or breakup; some end in making each other better.
Some are big fights. Some are small fights.
After reading such a book it would be foolish to think you’re the only one arguing in your relationship or with a stubborn partner. I’ve said this before: the greener pastures people look for might not always be green, especially in relationships. The difference, I believe, is how one handles their arguments based on their situation. Also, by reading such books one gets ideas on how to tackle arguments better.
For example, most people mistake arguments for something one side must ‘win’. If one enters an argument or debate thinking they should win, or that they want to let their partner win, the battle is already lost—only the war is waiting to reveal this truth. The moment you say, “You’ve won. Are you happy now?” it’s done. Read the book, you’ll see what I mean.
People are always fighting and arguing. Today it’s Gen Zs and corrupt governments. It’s your neighbour and her husband. It’s Israel and Palestine. Yesterday it was Russia and Ukraine. It used to be the US and China. Some time ago it was the Philistines and another Israel. Way back, the Good Book says it was between perfect angels and rebellious angels. Can you imagine that: battle, in as good a place as Heaven? People (beings) have been fighting literally since before the earth was even made. What makes you think your relationship will be any different?
PS: I’m planning on reading “Let Me Call You Back” next, again by Biko Zulu. It’s a small pocket-size book that wouldn’t break your bank if you got it for me😁.
I will literally kick everyone out and give you the world if you get it for me.
Thanks.
✍🏽Reagan.