Confessions of a libra

Soul Family | Credit: Here

[ Song to loop: ILYSMIH by Kali Uchis ]

26.08.25

You might not remember, but I do. I remember the way you looked at me like you trusted me. The way you put your joy in my hands. It was your innocence I wanted to protect forever. It was your entry into the world that showed me a depth of love I had never thought possible. I spent the first 5 years of my life as an only child. I really felt the weight and scrutiny of that. Then you were born, pretty and bright eyed. You probably wouldn’t identify with this label now that you’re a grown man in your own right, but you were always a pretty boy.

I know you recall the attention when you grew, especially before your teens. It wasn’t a fluke. I thought you were the most beautiful boy. Fussy, yes. Exacting standards, yes. Yet, curious. Fun. Funny. Very smart.  And very loving. You tilted the world on its axis for me. I thought I loved my mother, my grandmother, even my favourite uncle. When you came into the world, I felt for the first time, purpose. I spoke to you after school when I started the first grade, as you lay in your cot. I would walk alone to and from school. You became a beacon. A reason to enjoy the home. Mum worked a lot, which gave us plenty of time to bond.

We adventured, as soon as you could walk. I integrated you into my little gang of girlfriends. I always thought you had the most stylish clothes for a little boy. You made all the outfits work for you. I liked that you cared how you looked. That you liked dancing. I still remember this little dance of excitement you would do as a toddler. Also your Usher, Michael Jackson phase. If technology resembles anything we’ve seen in Black Mirror, I would relish the day I can project these memories for you to witness. What you didn’t know back then when you were a toddler is, I was battling demons. It didn’t seem like it, because I was also a child.

That is the reason I stayed out late and always got in trouble. I rebelled against the home, so I did everything I could to stay away from it. It had nothing to do with you. I know I confused you back then, and when I got home late or got a hiding, they made sure to remind me that I was the reason you didn’t eat dinner that night. You refused to eat unless I was present. When adults spoiled you – and you were the favourite the moment you arrived – you refused to enjoy anything good without me. It humbled me. Truly. You showed me a love and reverence I had always craved but wasn’t sure I deserved. I certainly wasn’t acting like I deserved it at the time.

Unfortunately for me I was always conscious of my behaviour, as I was always watching myself live while experiencing life at the same time. You held up a mirror. You showed me both the cavern I had within, and also the kind of love I knew in my bones could not be faked. You refused to eat eggs unless they were made by me. Not mum or any other adult. You made cooking fun. It didn’t feel like a chore back then because you seemingly enjoyed everything I did. You seemingly thought I wasn’t born wrong or deserving of ire, as adults often made me feel back then.

You were always much more forgiving back then than I deserved credit for, but what you don’t know is – it was changing me. Slowly, and structurally. Your life and your love became a compass I was orienting myself around. I always felt protective of you in a way that eclipses anyone else. I have never tolerated your mistreatment. I still don’t today. When mum would be out working nightshifts, if we happened to be alone – I would be tracking movements from windows with the lights all off. I would tell you to stay sitting or you’d be watching a movie. I made it my job to ensure your safety.

I always wanted you to feel loved. I never wanted her absence to affect you deeply, though I know I was not always successful with it. Your trust in me to protect you, to create a fun and loving environment is one I took very seriously. I believe our souls must have made a pact to get through this life together. I have always felt more warrior and mother around you than sister. Protector. Carer. Educator. Friend. You won’t remember why you stopped liking tomatoes but I do. I remember the very day you watched the neighbour-boy with his petulance, refuse to eat his food without the tomatoes being taken out. From that day, you convinced yourself that the was something wrong with them. This carried on way longer than I ever imagined to be honest. We always chuckled about it, since we could clearly trace the root.

My favourite moments when you were young, before we moved to Australia, is me baking while you watched or helped with small thing I asked for. Then we would eat while watching a movie. This particular day, I made sadza balls (fried) from mum’s cookbook then we watched Cheetah Girls. You were much more open to watching girly movies. I loved when we played Need for speed on mum’s old computer. You always had a knack for gaming, even then. One time, you and I went to the annual Gweru Show, and while mum allowed us to go roam, I did lose you momentarily. I felt like I would never forgive myself if I didn’t find you. I chastised myself and the grief that welled within me was tsunami level. Your safety, your health, your joy – those have always been important to me. I have always loved you deeper than words can express. Deeper than I love myself. A selfless love.

We moved to Australia and I allowed that to be my personal turning point. I knew I was rebelling and trying to run away from a life I couldn’t run away from. What you may not know is, you are the reason I made a pact at 12 to become a better person. The best version of myself. I looked at you and thought, what kind of example did I want to set in this strange land where people looked at us like we were specimen? So from then on, I decided not to shut up or put up. I was going to be both a good person, and a good example of confidence in self.

I didn’t want you to shrink in the new environment and feel that you were somehow wrong. I had more years in Zimbabwe, where my self-perception got to be shaped beyond a box imposed by Western understanding. So when people said something racist, I called it out. I became a more outspoken version of myself, so I could model sovereignty to you. I wanted you to feel proud to be yourself. I never wanted you to feel like you had to shrink to belong. My teenage years created a wedge between us, and it’s not your fault. I was going through things you were not old enough to be informed about. I had no will to ruin your perception of the old, or of life so I felt less alone. Instead, you might have thought me moody and bitchy. You may have thought me harsh on our mother. You may have misinterpreted me.

I gave you as much as I could, dropping hints and using my intuition. I trusted that with your intelligence, and with time you would join the pieces together yourself. I hated watching you become a teenager and have conflict with authority figures like your teachers. Not because I didn’t feel it justified, but that I felt your genius to be misunderstood. I felt that your independence and intelligence was a threat and instead of adults regulating themselves, they unleashed on you. I recall that teacher who screamed in your face like he was screaming to a grown man. I marked that man in my heard that day, and I did NOT wish him well.

I stormed into that interaction with him, with an ancestral fire – though I was merely a teenager myself (this is you in primary school actually). And this energy continued as you moved through high school. I knew you weren’t a contrarian for fun, I knew your need for logic and to understand the world in that way. I knew because I have that same fire in me. It is often misunderstood as being too mouthy, asking too many questions, thinking you’re better than everyone – when in fact it is a sign of presence. A sign of intelligence. A sign of engaging and interacting with everything around you, not being a passive participant.

What we were dear brother, was too awake for a world of people living in tiny bubbles of imagined reality. Where you questioned authority, they heard their own complicity in systems. Where you needed evidence and sources cited – they heard their own inadequacy. While you thought me sensitive for the traits that my high EQ brought, and because my intellect wasn’t accompanied by stoicism – I revered your intellect. I have often thought you to be the smartest in the family, often deferring my own intelligence. Now, I can say I value both our intelligence in its difference. I see that I have downplayed my own wisdom because I was often too early for people’s comfort. That I will no longer do, and I hope it ushers in your own breakthroughs as you move into your mid-twenties.

I have gone to war for you with the police, and had I not been met with bureaucratic theatre – I would have taken that complaint to the very top. Instead I got a long-drawn out process, where they stated they had no call logs to listen to to verify my complaint. I wrote a timestamped complaint with direct quotes and they just said they took it on board. I would fight every institution for your health and safety. If I have it my way in this life, I will have the power to do just that – so you never have to fear as a Black man ever again.

If ever I have children – as I hope I do – I will love them with a fierceness that you showed me love could be. My love for you doesn’t need constant words. My independence is merely a personal value, not the absence of warmth. I might not speak to you for a month, but if you truly needed me I would drop everything. As you have seen me do time and time again. I don’t need fancy words, nor do I even need you to understand me all the time. Know that the memories I hold of us, are what make my childhood worth remembering.

You are the lantern for me in a dark world. When I want to give up, I think about what that would teach you. If you look up to me for my resilience, know that in part it was forged by you. By your existence. Not by your performance. I would die for you. A thousand times over. So go live life like someone who comes from love. Like someone who will never be forgotten. Like someone who will always be forgiven and like someone whose got a sister who kicks ass. Asé.