Call a bro and say, “I love you”
It is hard to hear a man saying the three little words – “I love you” - to another man. Men often make their love to be felt, but they rarely speak it out.
It is hard to hear a man saying the three little words – “I love you” - to another man. Men often make their love to be felt, but they rarely speak it out.
Several weeks ago, Abdul Kassim, my former classmate at Dagoretti High School called me to exchange pleasantries.
Kassim and I – and other boys who’ll remain unnamed because it may besmirch their reputation – constantly gave teachers, prefects, and other students “continuous assessment tests”. That was then.
This is now. Kassim is the founder of Kibera Girls Soccer Academy (KGSA), an institution that’s moulding leaders and helping stop the vicious cycle that’s rampant in informal settlements. The academy is built on Kassim’s ancestral land.
Whenever we catch up, Kassim and I always laugh about the good old days, which shaped us into the upstanding men we are today.
Before hanging up, Kassim said: “I love you.”
Do you want to know the whole truth and nothing but? That caught me by surprise. Surprise gifts are often the best. And this was one.
Unrehearsed declaration
It was an unrehearsed declaration. Even through the phone, I felt Kassim meant every single syllable. He did not hesitate or try to find those three little words. I could tell they sprang from that same fountain of love that’s given scores of underprivileged girls wings to soar.
Words are my stock-in-trade. I try as much as I can to weigh every word I speak and write. Me? I know words create realities. Words created every single thing that exists.
It had been a minute since I heard those three little words. They were surprise gifts at the right time because I had been going through a rough emotional patch. To say they were just what the doctor ordered would be an understatement.
When a friend like Kassim calls from out of the blue and, not only makes your day but also unknowingly heals wounds you were struggling with, you know they are a godsend. You know it’s not a coincidence. I have lived long enough to realise that nothing just happens.
When a friend like Kassim calls and says he loves you, you know it’s not forced; as it sometimes happens during church services when the pastor compels unwilling churchgoers to turn to each other and say, “I love you”. These three words should not be forced out of us, but they should be second nature. As men and brothers, they should be our mode of greeting and bidding goodbye.
When a brother like Kassim calls to say he loves you, you know it’s not a facetious act. He’s as serious as a heart attack. You know he feels you. We may not share the same faith, but this is a brother from another mother. Our mother’s name is Truth. We keep it real with each other.
When a friend like Kassim calls to say they love you, you know it’s not fake, like when an entitled relative or a false friend tries to get you to give them something. You know he’s saying these words because he wants the best for you.
When a brother like Kassim calls and say they love you, you know he’s not pulling your leg. He walks the talk. Whether he’s bequeathing an inheritance for a just cause. Or he’s taking me in, with open arms, right after we completed high school when I ran away from home.
Brothers, let’s start an “I love you” chain. Call that brother and tell them these words, right now, when they can hear them. Maybe, that’s the kiss of life to make them breathe again.
