My sons are teaching me not to take sides

I am looking at my twin boys, Baraka and Gabriel. Studying them. Baraka was born first. Gab is the baby. They are now seated in a corner, playing. There seems to be a wordless conversation going on between them, which I envy.

Since I do not understand their language, I am sure that they sometimes backbite me. This unique communication, I believe, can only be between twins or siblings who are really close to each other.  

That is beside the point. Just a few minutes ago, the two boys were fighting, going at each other like foes. I grabbed the item of contention and instinctively handed it to Gab.

As I head to the kitchen, I tell Baraka he should know better. “You’re not the baby; Gab is the baby.”

I sometimes find myself lost how to treat Baraka. Most of the time he receives the you-are-not-the-baby treatment.

Brothers for life

As I observe my two sons going on with their games as if nothing had happened, they do not know that they are teaching mama an extremely practical lesson.

They are teaching me that it does not matter how much we disagree with one another or how often we fight; what matters is that we are brothers.

Baraka tries to lift Gab, but he cannot and falls back. Baraka laughs, gets up, and eventually manages to help his brother up.

Their relationship is a warning to arbitrators: Be very careful which side you take. Better still, do not take sides.

Letting go 

Baraka and Gab do not know this, and may be they never will, but they are giving me my hardest lesson of the day.

While they play as if nothing has happened, I am thinking of people I have disagreed with. People I have even fought with, though not physically, and vowed to keep a permanent grudge against.

Why, I was wronged. I think this person should give me an apology. I deserve an apology. I have earned one, taking into account the way this person treated me. Baraka and Gab are now on the move together.

Their unity is teaching me that I should let go. That anger or the after-effects of disagreement should not lead me to the island that I sometimes find myself on.

My sons are teaching me that I should not forget that the person who wronged me will always be a brother. That we need one another to get out of tight spots. 

Truth, the whole truth, and reconciliation

There may not be justice, in the formal way we understand it, when it comes to settling some scores.

But I believe that for relationships to heal and thrive, especially after trauma, there should be truth and reconciliation.

Many people living with HIV yearn for truth and reconciliation with loved ones, work colleagues, employers, and even perfect strangers.

This is a long shot. However, it would help heal broken relationships if, like some countries do, we would recognise that awful wrongs were committed and, at least, say sorry to the people who have been wronged.

They, in turn, should take the cue and forgive. Let bygones be bygones; as they say, truth sets free. 

The DEL button 

Another lesson that Baraka and Gab are teaching me is that before I press the delete button on any relationship, I should never forget how far I have come with that person. I would not want a loved one to delete me.

And, yes, I may be the wronged person, but I am not a lesser person by being the first to proffer the hand of friendship.

I ought to let them know that I gain nothing when a relationship goes to the dogs. I should let this person know that I care any time they fall, that their welfare is my business.

As I finish counting the number of people who, in my estimation, have wronged me in an unforgivable manner, Baraka and Gab approach me.

They expect a song from mama. This teaches me something else. If I continue taking sides, the way many mothers unconsciously do, I will be the one on the wrong side.