In my family, I never had the chance to be my parents’ priority. My sister, Davilla, always got all the consideration and opportunities in the family. My parents used to favor her the most, which resulted in a huge pain for me. It hurt me because I couldn’t bear the reality of always seeing her being put first for every special occasion.
At 13, I asked to be transferred to another secondary school because I felt ignored and excluded from my classmates’ activities during breaks. I was annoyed every time I got to school, mostly because all my former classmates had repeated sixth grade and remained in primary school while I made it to secondary school. Because of this, it was difficult for me to make friends in my new class; my new classmates had different interests, and we struggled to connect. But my parents told me, “We do not think it is a good idea. With time, you are going to get used to what is challenging you, and it will be fine.”
When I was in grade 10, I asked for new uniforms, but Mom told me that “new uniforms would not make me smart at school. So there is no need to buy one.” I should forget about the looks and consider wearing the old ones. In contrast, my sister asked for new shoes to start school, and for almost every grade, they provided them, even though she already had many more in her shoe cabinet.
I used to beg my parents to buy a new pair of football cleats for me to use for training during the holidays, but they would tell me that “football is a major distraction for learners and that I should ask for something else, like new books to read or a calculator to improve my calculation skills.”
In my fourth year of secondary school, I asked to work with tutors for the courses I struggled with, including math and social sciences. But when I informed Dad and Mom about it, they claimed that “I could become good at them through my own efforts and not part-time sessions.” They didn’t understand that I tried several times to learn them on my own, but I couldn’t make any progress. I reminded them again the next morning, but Dad said he did not want to hear about school matters anymore, and especially not anything related to extracurricular programs, because those two subjects I was requesting courses in were very easy to understand, so I should stop requesting them.
But Davilla asked for a tennis ball during the holidays, and they gave it to her as a birthday gift. She asked for a tennis jersey, and Mom bought one for her during her holiday trip to Burundi. She was enrolled in an English center after asking for it during the December holidays. Mom and Dad easily accepted Davilla’s requests, but never considered mine.
Mom and Dad used to pay Davilla’s school fees because they didn’t want her to be sent home even once for unpaid fees. One day I asked about this, and Dad responded, “Your sister needs more education because she is a lady, while you are a man, so we expect you to become independent early, unlike her, who needs her school more to shape her career.”
I had the most difficult household responsibilities, as I used to fetch water, chop firewood, and sometimes clean the whole house. I also took care of my younger siblings, bathing them and sometimes feeding them, while Davilla was allowed to rest and study.
On Sundays, every child in my family was supposed to attend church. But Mom and Dad would always leave my younger siblings and me at home and take only Davilla. On weekends, I was never allowed to visit my friends or go off campus to play. But Davilla was free to play and could always visit her friends whenever she wanted. When relatives visited our home, Mom and Dad used to introduce and praise Davilla to them. But hey often forgot to introduce my other siblings and me. Not because we had no positive things to talk about, but because Davila was their pride. This stayed the same until the visitors asked about us.
Whenever I got sick, my parents made sure that I got treatment at home. I was simply given painkillers and some other pills without them even taking the time to diagnose me or take me to a doctor. Unlike me, Davilla could go to the hospital for tests, see a doctor, and spend days there without worrying about the cost. This used to happen not because Davilla’s sickness was very serious, but because they never dared to risk it when it was something concerning her.
What pained me the most was that they would always make important decisions about my life and education without even asking for my opinion, while Davilla could decide on her own. Last year, she decided that she wouldn’t stay home during the holidays. And she was allowed to travel to another country to visit our relatives. But they wouldn’t let me travel or attend school competitions, even though they knew I wanted to.
My sister got most of what she asked for. She was given a laptop at age 12 after asking for one. And she was transferred to a Catholic school after requesting the transfer. My parents did everything they could to satisfy her wishes and never paid attention when it concerned me.
One night, Dad came home from work and sat in the living room where my sister and I and our other siblings were playing card games. “Davilla, how much does a new TV remote cost? I want to buy a new one after your little brother broke the old one,” he asked. “It goes for 15,000 MK,” Davilla responded. That night, I felt a bit bad and jealous of Davilla because I thought she only cared about the kitchen and other household matters, but after Dad asked those questions, I noticed that even things I thought were my concerns as a man were addressed to her.
The next morning, we woke up, and Mom returned from Burundi, and everyone in the house was happy to see her. She was holding her purse and a big backpack on her back. I tried to see what was inside her bag. She said, “I did not bring you anything, baby boy Manu.” I handed the bag back and felt like crying.
On some days, Dad approached Davilla to help her with schoolwork, whenever I went to Dad to ask for help with my schoolwork, he would always tell me, “These are easy things. You need to ask your classmates about it, as they can explain it better to you. And you know that I do not have enough time to deal with my things and yours at the same time.”
When Davilla finished secondary school, my parents decided to enroll her in a private university with a good reputation and accreditation in the country, as she always wished. When I finished secondary school, Dad said he couldn’t afford to pay for university. He said that “I should wait until my sister graduates.” This really pained me. When we were younger, Davilla did the shopping and escorted my Mom every time she visited our relatives. My mom never gave me the chance to be part of those activities too, and I felt neglected.
When my sister graduated from high school and left home to pursue college, I got the chance to become close to Mom. Every morning she would ask me to escort her to do the shopping for our household needs. One Friday evening, Mom told me she was invited to a wedding reception the next day, Saturday evening, at 7 pm. She asked me to escort her because my father had left the country for work. She told me this right after I got back from school.
”Mom, seriously? No! You are kidding me. What are you really talking about?” I said. I was surprised and excited to hear that exciting news from my Mom, because she had never said anything like that before. “Since when have we begun joking?” Mom asked. “You and I are attending a wedding reception tomorrow evening. You will need to prepare your tie and wear a white shirt so that your dress code matches mine. And make sure you get prepared on time,” she said.
I shouted joyfully, “Wow! Mom, what a golden occasion. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, God.”
Her words made my night. I went to my room and lay in bed. That night, I couldn’t sleep from excitement, thinking about what my first wedding reception would be like. I couldn’t stop smiling, completely overwhelmed by the joy of attending. I felt very honored and appreciated. Attending a wedding reception felt special because I had never been to one before, and the best part was doing it with Mom.
The next day, Saturday, I woke up late, feeling motivated because this was the day that Mom and I would attend the wedding reception. Since it was Saturday, I didn’t go to school because we normally didn’t have class on Saturdays. A few hours later, around 10 am, Mom left to go shopping. This time around, she told me she wanted to go alone.
I asked her, “Why don’t you want me to come with you, Mom?” She answered, “Because the things I am going to buy have nothing to do with you. I am going to buy something presentable for the groom and the bride at their wedding reception tonight. So, tell me, do you have any idea which present I should buy for them?”
I answered, “Nope, I am not aware of wedding-related matters. I am still young for that.”
“So stay home and get your clothes ready,” she said.
“Alright, Mom,” I answered.
She left, then I started getting my things ready and tidying up my room.
She came back at 5 pm, found me in the living room, relaxing on the sofa and watching the Black Panther movie on the Syfy channel. Not knowing that I was ready to go, she got mad and said to me, “Your sister would have already been ready by now. You are totally different from her.”
“Do you mean better or worse?” I asked. She laughed and said, “Worse, Manu.”
I said, “Mom, don’t say that. I am ready, just waiting for you to say ‘let’s go,’ and I will put on my shirt and my trousers; they are already ironed and well prepared. They are on my bed if you wish to see them.” I felt a bit annoyed after hearing Mom compare me to my sister.
“If that’s the case, okay. We need to hurry up because I want to get a seat near the front,” Mom said. She held a box, well packed in red and blue cloth. “Hurry up, Manu, you need to get dressed now if you have already taken a bath; we have to get there early,” she added
Then we each took a motorbike to the reception hall, Mangwa Deux Hall. When we got there, we found a few people outside the Mangwa Deux Hall. The doors were still closed. It took a long time, and I got tired of standing.
I told Mom, “I can barely stand; my legs are shaking. I am exhausted.” Mom got closer to me, put my head on her shoulder, and said, “Be a bit more patient, my baby boy. Have you forgotten that patience always pays?”
“Mmh! Mom, don’t go there,” I said. Mom laughed. I smiled because I felt cherished, something I had been craving for so long: attention from my mom. I bent my head on Mom’s shoulder. This kept me happy while waiting. After another 30 minutes, we started to feel worried. I heard my mom asking someone on the phone, “Where are they?”
The person answered, “You mean the groom and the bride, right? I have no idea. I just know that they are heading to Mangwa Deux.” I guess the person might have been one of the guests.
Mom asked, “Have you tried to contact them?”
“Yeah. My friends and I have talked to them recently, but for now, they are not reachable,” that person answered.
After a while, Mom said, “Manu, let’s go home.” I felt so upset. She and I headed back home. Once at home, Mom received a call. While she talked, I went to my room. A few minutes later, she came to me without knocking and opened the door. She was looking very gloomy, with tears on her face, as if something bad had happened. She walked over and sat on the bed near me but couldn’t utter a word.
I sadly asked, “Mom, what happened? Why are there tears on your face?” She answered, in an unclear voice because she was crying, “They had an accident when coming out of their hotel to go to the reception hall. I have just been informed, through a phone call, by the groom’s younger brother.”
“Oh my! That’s sad,” I said. “Are they injured?”
Mom sadly answered, “I don’t know, Manu.”
I asked, “Where are they now, at the hospital or somewhere else?”
“I have no idea. I am leaving now to find out,” Mom answered.
I sat on the sofa, confused and overwhelmed, imagining how the day I had considered the most important of my life could end in such disappointment. At first, all I could think about was how unlucky I was. However, as the days passed, I began to realize that that day was more than what I had imagined.
My mother chose to spend that special day with me, and that made me feel valued in a way I had never experienced before. Even though the day didn’t end how I had hoped, for once I was my mother’s center of attention.
That day changed how I looked at our relationship. Nowadays, whenever I think about that evening, I don’t recall the disappointment of Davilla being my parents’ favorite, but the moment when I truly felt like I mattered. Mom had several choices besides me. She could have gone to the wedding reception with her friends, my uncles, my aunts, or her coworkers, but she chose me over all of them.
