eighteen years, a big sister

On wednesday, I took my sister for the first time to submit her SIWES letter at a company she had looked up to. I felt emotions overwhelm me as I took my not-so-little sister to apply for her first ever internship position. As I held her hands, walking through the road, I remembered that this is one thing I wanted to do - help her walk through all her life decisions like it was mine.

I loved her, it was so much. I knew I would take a bullet for her when I saw an older cousin beat her and I went to fight. I cried with her that day and it felt like I had failed as a big sister to see someone beat her. I can’t stand it.

I remember singing for her, when she was a baby, and rocking her like she was my own child. We wanted to call her Clara, but our parents wanted us to call her by her Yoruba name. For days, we would struggle in transitioning from calling her Clara to Mosunrola. But we did, she loved it too. Her bubbly skin and her full dark hair, she would see amala and her eyes will light up. Once she’s full, the disturbance begins. We don’t get to rest again.

She was three when she spelt a word — important. I and my brother were holding her along the road, going to church, and she said she could spell it. We teased her and told her it was impossible, but she did. ‘You are now a big girl oo’, we said and she smiled.

A family friend told her to stop calling me by name, for respect sake, which I don’t care about anyways. But she had to do it, she needed something from the woman, and it stuck. She called me ‘aunty’ for years, but she calls me Kiddo now because, she’s now grown and nobody gets to threaten her.

I remember when she took up volunteering, now she has advanced to be a financial executive for a teens NGO. I really saw her handle groups and people and getting things work out.

She would ask me for money and I will tell her I don’t have and still proceed to send her money before the day runs because I can’t stand to see her not have. As a gift, I gave her money because it’s really the best thing I can do for her to make her happy.

I’m glad I have an opportunity to be someone’s big sister, fr. It’s one of the best things in the world, I’ve learnt leadership, love, listening, appraisals, jokes, joy, all from being one and I would gladly do it again and again.

NB: she also does that thing younger sisters do, steal my clothes.