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Wherever we may go, regardless of culture, drinking takes part of its identity. Culturally, drinking is a norm in my country in order for people especially men and clans to build bonds. As a little girl, I was given the impression that drinking was a good thing. Seeing that people -especially family members- setting aside their differences and connecting over a couple of bottles. Bad breath, embarrassing moments of blissful stupor, and hangovers being a small price to pay.
Yet where I saw the advantage of drinking was with my older brother Danny. From a young age, I’d watch him go out every week to one of the neighbors or his friends to have a drink. When I come home from school, I’d see him drinking with his buddies seated beneath the street lamp or near their homes.
It was no question how well he could hold his liquor. After all,we had come from a long line of strong drinkers but my brother had taken it to a whole new level. I recently asked my mother where all this stemmed from, although I’ve had my sure guesses. She mentioned it began in our province, a little island in the north of our country that had a lot more rainy season. It is quite common to use liquor as a way to build body heat. But for my Brother, it became a craving instead of a means to beat the cold.
During my older siblings’ middle school years, they had to be left to the care of relatives as our mother had to work abroad. Our older sister was left under the care of their grandmother while my brothers were sent to the province to be taken care of by our grandfather. During their period in our hometown, my brother Danny learned to drink with his friends.
At first, he drank because it created good ties with people and life seemed so care free when entranced in liquid spirit. When my mother returned and brought them to the city to live with their sister and grandmother, my brothers felt a bit alien to the new environment and the urban life. My brother Danny didn’t like the feeling of being an outsider, so liquor became his means of gaining friends. I had actually labeled it “Friendship juice” seeing how popular it made my brother.
Yet alcohol wasn’t just a means for him to have a social life. No. See, growing up we didn’t have a father or a guardian around to guide us. Mom worked as a seawoman so she was always abroad for seventy to eighty percent of the year. For that very reason, my brother Danny gained a lot of unwanted pressure.
He wasn’t the oldest- he was second born- but he felt as if he had to be the breadwinner being the first male of our family. He was also the kind of guy who wanted to be the stereotypical definition of manly in every sense. Drinking and emotional suppression for him was considered “manly”. He wasn’t stoic though but he liked to mask his insecurities with being a jokester or anger. Drinking helped him stay calm and little me would take that advantage to show him my low grades so he wouldn’t beat or question me when he was sober. I was made to see nothing wrong about it.
Years went by and I was born, another little girl orphaned by her father. According to my other older brother ,Abel, our brother Danny became even more protective. Stricter and harsher, wanting to be the protector of our family. And so more pressure ensued, and more, and more, especially when our two younger sisters were born. Not being able to count on anyone or even willing to acknowledge his underlying mental and emotional state, who else could he turn to but a kind cup of booze.
Truth be told, my brother gained many ‘friends’ and avoided quarrels with drinking but it was his withdrawals and its effects that caused issues with him and our family. He treated liquor like a medication for his temper and anxiety. Without it, at some hour of the day, he’d have withdrawals and would easily be irritated. As he kept drinking and drinking, issues about it and his constant absences were raised. His tolerance for alcohol grew too, three liters of old pal Jack Daniel became a minimum and he would want more to sedate himself.
He started working as a waiter in an international cruise line to support his family. He worked an early morning shift and he finished his shift during the late hours. According to my mother ,who works as a manager on the ship, He would go drinking with his friends or on his own just to help himself sleep. His need for it just grew over the years. But little by little he began to lose the benefit that alcohol gave him.
Instead of assisting in suppressing his anxieties and issues, it allowed them to manifest. He’d become a mess, angry, insecure, and shaking. He’d make bad deals with his ‘buddies’, lose money, and it came to the point that he’d call up his wife and scream at her on the phone over the littlest things. She, in turn, would do her best to brush it off wanting to be a good spouse. It even came to the point that we, the younger siblings, couldn’t just stand by and had asked him to quit and to watch himself. He would hide or dismiss our mother and other siblings when the topic of his drinking was brought up.
Then out of the blue, it became less frequent.
It wasn’t like we finally convinced him, he had convinced himself. If I had to guess as to what it was, it was probably seeing his younger sisters and his son growing up.
Don’t take it wrongly, I was about seventeen and I was already aware what that ‘friendship juice’ really was and wasn’t drawn to it. Our little sisters also didn’t witness our family’s habit of drinking like I had and weren’t interested. As for his son, he grew more around his mother and inherited her soft yet strong personality.
Yet my older brother couldn’t just count and hope his son would have as much sense as I and his wife had. There are a lot of things my brother would refuse to openly admit but one thing’s for sure he didn’t want his son or any of us to inherit his mania for liquor. And yet, he acknowledged that he could not completely let it go. Regardless, he wanted to set a better example.
So he began to make solutions to try and dwindle his thirst for the fiery water.
He began to accept less invitations from his colleagues -after working hours- to gatherings he knew would involve a couple of shots. He’d hit the gym instead to distract himself with ,and I quote, his handsomeness and Michael angelo sculpted physique. He even frequented my mother’s cabin to see her or snag a couple of snacks from her fridge- he apparently had turned to my mother’s stock of almond milk as a “cure”. When he’d return home to the country, he’d distract himself with farming and video games.
It wasn’t just his efforts alone though. His wife and neighbors conspired together to help my brother. He’s a well-known man in the community, helping out with laborious work whenever he came home after working overseas. Knowing about his large appetite for alcohol concerned them especially for his family’s wellbeing. So whenever he’d go to nearby stores or shops asking for liquor- most likely sneaking behind his wife’s back- the owners or shop keepers would make excuses. Such as there was no more in stock- very plausible since the locals were also strong drinkers-, say it was reserved, would deny him service, or would tell his wife.
Ofcourse, there were moments that our dear older brother would try to find loopholes- especially during family gatherings. But his wife, much braver now, would be more than willing to slap his shoulder or pull him by the ear and back into the house if he planned to go for more than one liter. His father-in-law would also do his best to distract him from men of the village that’d invite him for a drink by taking him to the farm or forest to do some work. Whenever we’d come to visit and have a drink, we’d remind him about his limit.
These days he no longer becomes temperamental when not in a five-meter radius of alcohol and he has become all the more good-natured. He’s even more involved with spending time with his wife and son. Yet we know his hands would still itch for it. To this day, He still tries to make some sort of excuse to have at least a few shots of booze. As long as there’s a loophole or an opportunity so he could get a taste, he’d take it and there is no telling how far ‘just a little bit of spirit’ would take him.
-JackDANIEL’s sister
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