Marvin and I: Brotherhood & Other Fragmented Memories

‘I guess we're really brothers, aren't we? Don't know what that means, except it means that some of the same things we remember.’

-― Tim O'Brien, Northern Lights

            My earliest memory with my brother, Marvin, is when after our mother had bathed us, we would squat on the grass to dry, our small ‘pens’ dangling about, and chatting about queer things. I do not clearly remember which year it was, but all I know is we were close from the onset. I am the eldest. Born ’89. Marvin came two and half years later in ’91. This piece is my birthday card to him because he turned 24 last Monday, exactly on March 2^nd.  

            Marvin and I are worlds apart in terms of personality as Mandela was to Mobutu. I shall not compare the personalities of the two per se, but, only draw to your attention how different we are. I am an extrovert. Sociable. Opinionated. I always speak my mind. Radical. Stubborn. But Marvin is the opposite of all those. Introverted you would think on meeting him for the first time that he is dumb. A moderate. He rarely toys with extreme views/opinions/ideas the way I do. While I am into books, world affairs (most of them useless anyway, like how does the recent assassination of Boris Nemtsov concern me anyway?), Marvin isn’t. 

For him, technology is the centre of universe. If hell has technology, I bet he shall go there. He is my-go-to-person when I want to learn about iPhones, IBM, Instagram. Phone settings when I am unable to navigate something on my Smartphone, WhatsApp (Actually, he is one of the family members who pressured me to sign up into WhatsApp, something I rarely use). I joined Instagram because I saw it on his phone. Not once have I Instagrammed! Never double-tapped in my whole life. 

In place of technology addiction, I have compensated with books. Lots of books. Ideas. I spend most of time imbibing ideas and thoughts of great and small men and women in accordance with a Socrates’ maxim to improve myself. I have no crystal-clear recollections of when my love for reading started. Early enough, though, I still recall my father’s countless leftist magazines such as Society, Nairobi Law Monthly (then published by Gitobu Imanyara), and Ngugi’s books: Petals of Blood and I Will Marry When I Want that I struggled to read to fruitless avail.

 Later, in primary school, our father would grow his obsession with buying us English Aid textbooks and storybooks. One English Aid book, I remember, I lost during my brief schooling in Thika. Thereafter, together with Marvin, we would narrate to him the stories to prove we had actually read those books. In class six, he bought me a storybook titled Captured by Raiders (I have forgotten the author) that one of my classmates, Morgan, remained with when we were moving from Kisumu to Kerugoya in 2000. Our family was forever moving because of my father’s job. If it was not Bungoma, it was Thika, Murang’a, Kakamega, Daraja Mbili, Khayega, Kandara, Busia. Even today, my father is always ready. Anytime he could move. 

Sometimes I wish Marvin would become altruistic and visionary like his former college-mate, Evans Wadongo, who innovated the solar-lamps to light up dark villages in Kenya and Africa. With Computer Science and Mathematics, he does not necessarily have to replicate what Steve Jobs, Wozniak, Bill Gates, or Mark Zuckerberg have done – it would be too much weight to shoulder –unnecessary great expectations. 

No, I am not discouraging him from setting higher goals because even my Psychology lecturer, Dr. Mwaura, stressed the significance of positive role models. Albert Bandura’s Social Learning Theory style. If an individual has the opportunity to emulate creative geniuses as the ones I have mentioned above, who I am to dissuade him from charting his own path? It is only vital for him to identify a favourite path that excites him the most the way I did with English and Literature.

I believe happiness should remain absolute in all human endeavours. Not all of us can attain it because of the fractured nature of life and its endless savageness and brutality and bad guys out there always ready to maim or even murder a fellow human for nothing, but we can always aspire. 

P.S: By the way, Marvin rarely even reads my blogposts. I am not even sure whether he will read all this. Except for when I am published in the local dailies, I bet he has never read a single article in my blog. But this one, Marvo, please read it. 

Happy birthday.