Childhood Stories, part 2
SIBLINGS
Leah: I have one brother, David, three and a half years younger than me. I wouldn’t say we were best friends growing up, but we definitely weren’t enemies. I was kind of a bully and very bossy. My Mom constantly had to nudge me along so as to not step on him and crush his spirit. But we had our fair share of fun, that’s for sure.
One of my favorite games to play with my brother when we were kids was a game called Special Delivery. Our rooms were right next to each other and we could even knock on the wall and hear one another. In Special Delivery, each person is a mailman delivering something special for their own room. So, we’d go back and forth delivering a stuffed animal, a toy car, or a special book of some kind. We’d leave the item, knock on the door, shout “Special delivery!!” and run away. I remember not wanting to give away anything “too” valuable for fear of it getting broken or damaged. But what I also recall is that David delivered some of his most valued items. I was humbled at this young age to realize that I was worthy enough to receive the things he cherished most.
The older that we got, the less it seemed that we had in common. He started finding an interest in watching wrestling, battle bots, and playing computer games. I was more interested in going to the movies, shopping, talking on the phone and doing all the girly stuff with friends. Oh, and of course, I started noticing that boys weren’t so repulsive after all. It seemed as though David and I were as different as night and day.
I soon left for college and missed my brother’s entire high school career. I still feel sad that I didn’t really know what was going on with him during that time and didn’t make enough effort to try and be involved. When David moved up to Redding to go to college we had one awesome year together before I moved to South Africa. I still reminisce very dearly of those times. David, I miss you, but am so thankful for our “rekindled” sibling friendship.
Piet: I am the oldest of 10 kids from my mother. She was very young when she had me and felt it was better to allow my grandparents to raise me. Looking back, I assume that the older generation may have encouraged her to do so. In my grandparent’s house was my brother Ernest and I. Later, my younger sisters Catherine and Seipati came to stay with us for a while as well.
I hate to admit that I stole quite a lot when I was younger. Not as much from shops and such, but mostly from my grandmother. I was definitely a bad influence on Ernest. Ironically, his Tswana name is Tsietsie, which means, “trouble.”
My grandmother always added condensed milk, rather than regular milk, to her tea. She would poke a hole in the tin can and leave in on the shelf for multiple uses. I LOVED drinking condensed milk straight out of the can. So, a number of times I can remember convincing Ernest to steal condensed milk with me. He would always try to talk me out of it, but being the naughty older brother, I assured him it was fine. We would each take a sip and replace the missing milk with a bit of water. But by the time we had walked to the other side of the room we would want more! So we’d go back and take another sip and replace with more water. Eventually the can would be about ¼ condensed milk and ¾ water. We thought she’d never notice. Boy did we get in trouble.
When I was about 16 years old, my grandparents died. First my grandfather and about two years later, my grandmother. I ended up failing my grade 11 and dropped out of school to look after my brother. I quickly became the main breadwinner in the house. I gave up everything so that he could carry on in school and have a decent life. I played soccer for a community team and every time I scored a goal, I would get money. I also played professionally, but the coach was very corrupt and I never got paid (but that is another story for another time). I gave Ernest and Catherine (who was living with us for some of that time) money to buy sweets and up sell them. One time I returned home and they ate all the sweets!! I was upset. But there were times that we successfully earned money from selling chips and sweets and many other things. Somehow, we survived. I guess this is where we got our entrepreneur spirit. If it wasn’t for that time, I wouldn’t be the dreamer that I am now. It may seem very difficult, but I believe it was part of God’s plan in shaping me.
Ernest and I are still very close. We have been through a lot together. He has a special place in my heart. He ran my business for the few months that we were operating before my car accident. He had a few years when he was doing his own thing and living his own life, but he has really grown up a lot and now has a good job and looks after his family well. I am so proud of the man he has become.