I will never not understand you

 

For as long as they’re both alive, there’s nothing Ray will do that Betty will never not understand.

I’m about to tell you guys about The Whittakers - Ray and Betty-  but before I do that, I first have to tell you about Mark Laita. There’s this guy called (you guessed it) Mark Laita who has a channel on YouTube called Soft White Underbelly. On there, he interviews people that we as a society would deem ‘social misfits’: prostitutes, pimps, drug addicts, homeless people, sex addicts, in-bred families, the roster is extensive. I like to watch his videos as it humanizes these people, but I can’t view too many at a time because they mostly weigh me down, seeing how at the core of so many human problems, it boils down to the love, care and acceptance people lacked as children. And it’s generational. None the less, I remain curious to hear their stories and sympathize because in the grand scheme of things, as humans, we’re more alike than we are unalike.

There’s a lot I can say about Mark, about how I admire his genuine curiosity in people and the acceptance of them. It’s how these people feel heard when they go for these interviews. Every human will always want to feel heard. Over the years, there’s this family of in-bred people called the Whittakers, that he has now formed a relationship with. 4 siblings, they have several genetic disorders. It’s interesting to watch them and see how they interact with one another and with Mark as well. Their living conditions are poor, they have challenges in verbal communication, but they’re always together as a family, chilling on their patio. (Patio? Sounds so American. I’m comfortable calling it a Verandah.) In this family, Betty is the oldest, 70 something years old, and the one responsible for her brothers and sister. When she speaks, you have to be keen to listen otherwise the words will fly past your ears especially if you’re not; a) American and b) American from the south.  Lorene and Timmy, the other siblings don’t really talk much, they either smile or stare at you with a blank face. Then there’s Ray, oh Ray, he has my heart, his primary way of communicating is by barking, grunting and pointing and he's usually all over the place.

On Saturday morning, I was in one of those moods for watching something deep, I wouldn’t find that on IG reels, so I went to scroll through Mark’s channel. I saw that he’d taken the family for haircuts and thought that would be an interesting watch. It would be my first time seeing this family somewhere that’s not their verandah. I just wasn’t prepared for the emotions I was to feel soon after I clicked play. Mark and his friend drove them to the barber shop and explained to the hair experts these guys’ condition. The ladies got their hairs trimmed, washed and straightened, while the gents got their hairs and beards trimmed. When it got to Ray’s turn, he started feeling uneasy towards the end, especially when they got to his beard. So he started moving away from the clippers and removing his cape. Betty knew what this meant and translated to the people there that he didn’t want his mustache to be shaved. For me, there’s where the water works began. In that instant, I immediately felt a strong connection with her, and how deeply she understands her brother. Ray doesn’t even need to talk, Betty will get his language and interpret this to people. There’s nothing Ray will do that Betty will never not understand.

Guys, I couldn’t stop crying. I had to pause the video, wipe my tears, then proceed to watch it again, but I just couldn’t stop sobbing. So I gave in to what I was feeling and dug my face into my chest and let it all out. It reminded me so much of the relationship I share with my brother Steve, that in this world where it takes time for him to be understood and accepted, there’s nothing he’ll do or say in his language that I’ll never not understand. So when I was able to gather my thoughts, I wrote this letter for him.

Letter for Steve 001

Just before the global pandemic struck, in January of 2020, you fell and hurt your shoulder late in the night. Since Ma & Dad weren’t around, you woke Davie (our small 'big' bro) and I up, asking for Deepheat. At that time, neither of us knew how bad it was, so when we couldn’t find the spray, we asked you to wait till the morning, then we’d get it for you. But you kept coming to my room, asking that I please look for the Deepheat, even after I gave you painkillers. That’s when I knew that something was up, so in the morning, I called Ma and she said that I take you to hospital. You were in so much pain my brother, you didn’t have your usual stories, about America is color yellow or me having uso moto, which is rare for you.

From the reception, to the triage, to the doctor’s room, I was the one who would explain to the people first that you’re autistic, then second, translate some of the things you said. Like when asked about your pain level, you said it feels like kuchinja ng’ombe. That meant extreme pain, and sure enough it was because the x-ray revealed that your shoulder was broken. The one week of you in hospital after surgery tugged at the strings of my fragile heart. How innocent you were and how bravely you tolerated the pain. I remember the nice doctor lady who would take her extra time to listen to you, she’d always say ‘what does that mean Steve?’ and would be patient to hear you go on and on, while you spoke in your metaphorical language. You would also always tell her that you find her beautiful. Hehe.

It dehydrated my heart that none of your friends, the people you spend a lot of time with, came to visit you. However, they asked about you, asked where you were whenever they saw me. In those days, it was all family by your bedside. We’ll always be here for you, we'll always be your home. 

Your healing journey took about a year, so I’d spend a lot of time with you, taking you for check-ups, cast removals and wound cleaning and dressing. Many times, I’d have to translate your words and actions to various professionals. Like that one guy who was so rough removing your cast and despite how much we told him that you still felt pain, he still continued to mishandle your hand, half ignoring us. Times like those, my heart would also end up wounded.

The hospital staff used to get so annoyed with how you’d wear your mask under your nose lol. There’s nothing you say or do that I never not understand. You’re claustrophobic, you can’t even stand a room with closed windows. Even when it's mid-July, at 6:00 am, you'll wake up to open the windows in the house. So the mask was your biggest nightmare. Lakini when they'd harshly tell you to cover your nose, I didn't advocate for you, because Lord knows how much I feared that COVID. 

You make me laugh a lot, most of the times it’s unexpectedly. I remember that day you were with Davie at one of your check ups and when I came to relieve him so that he could go to school, immediately you saw me, while looking at my hair, you (in a loud voice and in a waiting room full of people) said “Mmmh that’s a wig. Yes, a wig. You didn’t have that farasi in the morning” I couldn’t even be embarrassed because it was just too funny. That’s the thing about you. You’re honest. You say what’s on your mind. Everybody in the family has a story about you being honest about them to the public. Like that time Ma shouted to a boda guy ‘jangili!’ then you told that story to the larger family, mum’s in-laws hehe.

You are six years older than me, but I feel like your big sis. I annoy you, I’m sure of this especially because of how anal I am around the house, giving many instructions. “Steve, please don’t make a mess” “Steve, please come and clear your mess!” “Steve, it's 3:00 am you're talking too loudly, we're trying to sleep” but Lord knows, you’re quite messy and loud, and it drives me up the wall. So that’s a dynamic that I think we’ll always have, me asking you not to make a mess, you making a mess, me asking you to clean your mess. We'll always feel frustrated at each other. You call me mkali, but I'm cool with that. I still love you and tell it to you and show it to you. And you have your way of showing that you love me. Like when I travel from home for some time, you beam when I return and say 'where were you? Ei, I missed you because you're the one who knows how to panga things and you always tell me to use both my hands when I'm doing something' 

 

When I was younger, I used to say things like “If Steve were ‘normal’, he would be the cool big bro” or “he would be the one I’d be going out with”. But how silly were those thoughts, wanting you to be different. As if God didn’t know what he was doing, as if you being how you are isn’t a gift to us. I realized the less I had those thoughts, the more I enjoyed your personality and your nuances. When you say things like a dog has scissors teeth, or green tea ina taste kama fujo or Americans wako na Nairobi, I immediately know what you mean. I'll always understand you.

It used to bother me a lot when people were uncomfortable around you, it still does to an extent but not so much. One time I’ll tell you about something Ma told me that she learnt from the support group she’s in - a WhatsApp group of mothers of children with autism – that changed my life in consideration to people judging you. I have so many things I want to tell you, so many moments I'd like us to relieve, so many things I hope I can do for you, not enough to fit in this letter. For now, just know that whatever you say or do, your family and sis over here will never not understand you...