By Wanjiru Kihusa

I have the tendency to remember the most interesting things from people’s conversations. My take home is always something deep, funny (or sometimes weird).

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine about marriage and in the middle of it all he said, “Love is war.” We talked about many other things but this statement stayed with me. It sat in my head and refused to leave until I gave it attention. For a week now I have been thinking about this short but potent statement.

We encounter all these mushy love quotes and love songs that talk of how awesome and sweet love is. And it is all those things; beautiful and amazing. But it is also war. Love is a battlefield. We fight to protect love and we fight to sustain love. By war I don’t mean physical fighting (although unfortunately this also happens). I mean working hard to keep love; deliberating ‘fighting’ to keep it alive.

We fight society, we fight situations that come to threaten love, we fight for our partners and sometimes, we fight ourselves. Love is hard work; love is war. Battle grounds leave us wounded and sometimes broken, but the best part in a war, is when you win. It just so happens that I found lyrics to a song by American Young that tells it so well. Bellow are some of the words in the song.

Young lovers in a picture frame

Ever notice how there ain’t no rain

Nobody hangs hard times on the wall

You won’t see it in an 8 by 10

But there’s a storm every now and then

A slamming door down the hall

Sometimes love is a white flag

Sometimes love is standing tall

Sometimes love is a feather

Sometimes a cannon ball

But it’s worth fighting for (it’s worth fighting for)

Baby, sometimes love is war

An old couple on a front porch swing

On a walk down memory lane

Been through the fire and back again

Through the clear and the cloudy skies

Still love in each other’s eyes

Sometimes love is war but sometimes you win

Sometimes love is all that can save us

Sometimes love can kill a man

Yeah sometimes love is a soft touch

Or a pistol in your hand

What are your thoughts? Is love really war? And if it is, is it worth fighting for?