Year Five : By the burn of a teapot
The year was 1994 and it was just another ambiguous day of April to me. To everyone else, it was a special day as the one would not be one anymore. That eleventh day of April, my brother was born. Yes, that same sick mother risked her life again and for the last time, just for me to have a little bit of company. To them, I was being done a favor because life alone was so unfair, although I never complained, they felt the pressure and responsibility to give me company. I was the only grandchild for almost five years, a king of no-kingdom.
Fast forward to a few weeks later, as I was watching Captain Madjid -the good old version not the Tsubasa “crap” that kids are watching now- Mama served a hot pot of tea. I remember the pot because I always get to see it looking at me on that fancy shelf on which all mothers keep their precious antiques, also called randomly old kitchenware. It was a heavy decorated silver pot, brought from Tunisia or Morocco (I never bothered to ask) and it was hotter than 2020.
Being myself, the kid with nothing to lose, I tried to show off in front of my uncle and ended up with a burn that left a scar on my hip to this day -of course I do not see it because I’m fat like a cow now, but it’s still there- and it reminds me of the days I thought I had nothing to lose.
Today, I am 31 years old and my brother is 26. We lead very different lives and follow extremely different lifestyles, and the whole -alleged- purpose of his existence was not necessarily fulfilled as we do not share many interests, we do not do anything together, we do not deal with life the same way, we do not do things together and we do not befriend the same type of people.
As unrelated as the two stories seem, they are connected in one point; the burn. At the moment when my uncle announced the birth of my brother to me, I remember feeling weird as I was the only kid in the family and did not know how to react, and like all kids, denial and frustration were my first go-to. It was the same feeling I had when I failed at my brag on my uncle; burnt, frustrated and in deep denial.
Yes, two stories in one and both might not seem interesting. However, this is a small lesson to learn from them:
People will always feel the urge to help you build a personality, not taking into consideration your choices or your way of thinking. Sometimes, they think that you are not old enough yet to build your own opinion, maybe even underestimate your intelligence to a point where their white knight syndrome forces them to save you from the abyss of your own choices. In a society like ours, you have no way to escape this, however, as you get older, try to build your own identity. Although it might look a bit late to you, it never is, so try to build yourself back from scratch and not do the same thing to your children.