This is a story of two brothers. Bear with me.
A customer often comes into the cafe and calls me brother half a dozen times during each transaction. He's a friendly guy, maybe trying a little too hard to be cool or something. It makes me laugh inside for some reason. When he called me "Bruz" I almost snortled out loud.
We have a local fruit and veg shop that has also become our supplier for the cafe. It's run by a Muslim family.I often stop off on my walk home to buy some things (so stupid - we get their stuff delivered to the cafe every day and never think to bring stuff home from the cafe, so I stop off to pick up more stuff).
The main guy we deal with is a big guy always ready to smile. We usually chat about our respective days. His eye widen as you talk; he's really interested in what you have to say. He looks like he laughs a lot.
After one such chat, he smiled and said, "Take care brother."
Far from being amused, far from snortling, I was actually quite moved by it. I'm often wary of religion and the divide it can create. And here's you with your culture and your God and your Holy book... and here's me without a God or a Holy book, or much culture. But you call me brother.
I left his shop thinking fuck it - you regard me as brother, I regard you as brother.
And that's my story about two brothers.