The lessons my twin sons are teaching me in this foreign land

THIS YEAR STARTED on a very low note for me. I lost a close relative. A brother, to be precise.

The fact that I could not attend his burial made me sadder, thereby prolonging my grief and closure.

This is one of the things people living in the diaspora have to deal with. Many times, when things happen back at home – be they happy or sad – you cannot just up and leave. I’m still grieving.

Learning curve

While trying to get my footing in a foreign land, I have found out that adults take time to get used to new environments.

My kids are ducks in water, while I’m the scared cat; gingerly touching it to see if it is okay to jump in. I am learning from my children that it is okay to forget the past and enjoy the present.

Just the same way I am dealing with grief is the same way I am dealing with this learning curve of being an immigrant: taking it one day at a time. As I struggle with adjustments and homesickness, my kids have already found their groove here.

Twins will always be twins

One kid who is having a time of his life is Gabriel. Gab is the youngest of the twin boys. Gab makes it known that he is the lastborn through behaviour that includes crying all the time.

For reasons I don’t understand, or many facts I am yet to learn about my boys, Baraka and Gabriel have the habit of doing naughty things together.

It is no wonder when it is quiet, everyone will ask where they are. The other day, I found them both stirring the water in the toilet bowl.

They were so absorbed, they didn’t hear me get in until I yelled the apprentice plumbers out of the toilet.

My intrusion was not taken kindly by Gab, who still had some unfinished business – you could tell by the unwilling manner in which he left the scene of grime.

I also knew that his brother Baraka was up to no good by the manner in which he skipped and hopped, a manner to suggest that he would be back.

A time to laugh and cry

Gab walked into the living room crying, only to find his favourite advert of dancing cartoons showing on TV.

As if he has a split personality, he immediately started to dance, his infectious smile looking somewhat misplaced, thanks to the tears still rolling down his cheeks.

However, as soon as the advert ended, his crying picked up in earnest, looking for someone to look into the injustice of him being dismissed unceremoniously from an unfinished “plumbing” gig.

Gab’s switching mode had a good lesson to me, although I could not stop myself from laughing. Lesson is, times of laughter and crying can be intertwined.

I should not let unpleasant experiences pull me down when a moment to be happy presents itself.

I had several unpleasant experiences in my life towards the end of last year. I don’t want to let those bad moments pull me down.

Not if I can help it. I may be grieving, but when a happy moment comes, even with burning tears rolling down my cheeks, I should grab it and enjoy it to the fullest.

Being the “liver” of life

Baraka is the opposite of Gab – he is an easy “liver”. This little man seems to take a cue from what Maya Angelou once said about life, that it “loves the liver of it”.

Baraka does not hold onto bad memories. He simply dumps them and moves on to new things wholeheartedly.

I wish I too could adopt this attitude because it would make my life a lot easier.

I would go on with life, and, so to speak, move on without always keeping count of the people who wronged me: when, how, where and why.

What this holding on to stuff does is weigh me down, such that at times, opportunities pass me by.