I spent the day thinking of my best friend, he was born on this day many years ago. It is family legend that I said “Tata” the moment he was born, I like to think that it meant I was psychic even as a toddler, you can’t tell me different.
My brother is the calmest person I know, if he loses his calm then you can bet that anyone else would have brought the house down. He wasn’t always like that, he was once the hefty toddler who would not hesitate to shout at you if you came near his toys and if you continued to pester him, a kick in the shin would be your reward. I still cannot throw out an empty pack of toothpaste or St Louis sugar without looking over my shoulder *that’s all I’ll say on that matter* Today he’s the one who’d say “are you sure you want to do that?” when in a fit of pique I’d tell him of my plans to destroy the world.
There’s almost nothing my brother cannot do, except maybe sit down and write a story. He tells the best stories though, painting vivid, throbbing landscapes and with his tongue, eyes and hands and charming everyone he meets. Sometimes I envy the ease with which he connects with people, the way he is the sun and everyone else orbiting planets competing for his warmth and how his name will make you smile years after you had last seen him.
I can’t count the number of times I’d started a phone call with “Obinna how do I?” From computers to cars to fitting a faucet properly, all you need is Bi’s phone number (although there’s no guarantee that he would pick your call, he knows how to stuff a week of living into twenty four hours). No artisan likes to see him when they’re working, he’d learn the stuff quickly and in a few weeks, he’d do better than them- this is no hyperbole.
My brother isn’t perfect, what brother is? He was the three year old who destroyed my train, he wanted to know what made it run, it was he who also took apart my toy radio because he wanted to make it a real radio and he was the one who decided that our toy cars were too slow and he could make them faster- he was four and I was five and I believed him. He was also the eleven year old who jumped down from a moving bus to rescue his sister who had fallen from a bus and was lying unconscious in the middle of Ojuelegba.
I thought about you all day Obinna Chikezirim Onyedikachi Chibunna Kelvin Ezenwa and prayed for you too, for the fulfilment of your wishes and dreams, for the grace to run your race, for the strength to fight your battles, for wisdom on this journey of manhood, for restoration of the things you lost along the way, for joy that will make your heart sing and for love that will fill your life with light and laughter.
Happy Birthday Y.Pa, remember this picture? When I taught you how to clap? Of course you can’t… You were too young :-p
It’s my favourite picture of us, let’s recreate it? Can Superman still lift us?