CHISIMDI EZEOKE

Annabel and Christabel were orphan twins. They grew up in an orphanage just
outside the gate of our small community. They come to our house during
holidays. Mama had volunteered to cater for the girls until they are old enough
to find jobs.

Their father was a mishap.  He was involved in a gang robbery and was shot by
the police. This was kept away from the girls. Their mother died months later,
because she couldn’t bear the trauma of her husband’s death. Annabel and
Christabel became the children of the community. Mama accepted to take them
in, a decision I was against.

‘Mama, these girls will cause you high blood pressure,’ I told her several times.

‘I am not adopting them,’ she always replied. ‘They will leave when they are of
age. Besides, there is nothing wrong in having two daughters.’

She seemed to be insinuating I was the cause of her not having other children.
‘Mama, once you finish training these children, you will then see they have
kinsmen.’

‘I wondered what you see in these girls that makes you hate them.’

‘I don’t hate them. Above and beyond everything else, I’m just being careful.’

But that is the part that Mama never understood. I let the issue lie, when it
excited misunderstandings between Mama and I.

The girls were identical. So much so that I could not guess who was who. They
have the same face. Round and beautiful like that of a Madonna with kinky
braids.  As far as Mama was concerned, my inability to tell them apart was
borne out of my hatred for them.

I typically spend the weekends with Mama in our family flat. When I came back
on one of the weekends, there were no signs of the girls running around Mama.

‘Where are the girls?’ I asked Mama as I was dropping my bag on the floor.

‘Do you miss them?’ Mama asked, beaming with smiles.

‘Akuko! God knows that I don’t need disturbance this weekend,’ I said, with a
scowl on my face.

‘They have gone back to school.’

I spent the whole day with Mama as usual.  She told me about a new girl in the
estate. It was easy to figure where Mama was heading.

‘This girl is nice eeh,’ she said with endearing enthusiasm. ‘She goes to church
every Sunday and she has good manners.’

‘Mama, I have a fiancée,’ I snapped.

‘Then bring her home. Let me see her. There are wayward ladies out there,’ she
said gloomily.

‘Mama, time will tell,’ I reassured her while I drew her closer, resting my chin
on her head.

Mama told me that night that she had a medical appointment with her doctor
and that she was also supposed to visit the girls at the orphanage school. She
persuaded me to visit the girls on her behalf. I was reluctant, but I later
succumbed to her demand.

The following day I drove to the orphanage school. The school was built
Victorian style by the Irish missionaries in the early forties.  The walls of the
compound had daffodil flowers surrounding it.

I stopped at the security post. A tall, husky security man came out at the sound
of my horn.

He asked in English, ‘Purpose of visit?’

‘To see some girls,’ I said airily and added. ‘The twins.’

‘There are three sets of twins here, which among them do you want to see?’ the
security man asked, still maintaining his soft pitch.

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‘Annabel and Christabel,’ I wasn’t quite sure I got their names right.

‘Surname?’

‘I don’t know their surname. I am just here on behalf of my mother.’

The man excused himself, went to the intercom and dialled a number. He
returned to where I was sitting in the car.

‘Someone is coming,’ he said and went back to his seat. He sounded
commanding.

A reverend sister who seemed to be in her thirties came out from the compound
and went to the security man. I saw him pointing in my direction. The reverend
sister approached me. She looked angelic in appearance and spoke very little.

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Good morning, Sister.’

‘Do the girls know you, sir?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, avoiding eye contact with her.

‘Come with me.’

She took me to the visitor’s room which was sparsely furnished with a sofa, an
old television set and a water colour painting of Jesus.

The room was dusty. They probably don’t have visitors often, I guessed.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she said, dusting the sofa. Then she added before
leaving the room, ‘Let me notify them.’

The sister returned with one of the girls. As soon as she saw me, she ran
forward and hugged me. Her hands clinched around me.

The reverend sister approached us at once.

‘Is he a relation of yours?’

‘Yes, he is our brother.’ Her voice sent shock waves through me and woke up
tender feelings for her. For both of them.

I cuddled her. I was stunned she called me her brother. I was delighted as well.

‘Where is Christabel?’ I asked in an unsteady voice, thinking of what to say
next.

‘I am Christabel,’ she said, pulling a grin at the corner of her lip. The twins
looked so much alike. She was so much more beautiful all of a sudden.

‘Annabel is sleeping, I will wake her once we go inside,’ she said like a cheerful
school girl. There was such compelling excitement about her, about them.

I pulled her close enough to me and hugged her again, this time, placing my
chin above her hair, just like I always do to Mama. There were tears welling up
in my eyes, mixed with guilt. And at the same time, happiness.

When I brushed her hair with my palm, she stared into my eyes and laughed.
And, for the first time in my life, I had two sisters.

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Chisimdi Ezeoke is a 400 level Philosophy student at the Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka.