I had no plan to speak about a secret my tongue had carried for over twenty years that evening. In fact, I thought it would follow me to my grave. But when I saw Chidiebere and Chidindu sitting side by side, staring at me like I had spoiled their life, their faces like mirrors of each other, I knew I had to let the cat out of the bag.
Seeing them walk in together felt like someone had dug out my secret from its grave and handed it over to me just so the world could see.
I made us sit in my room. It wasn't spacious enough but it was comfortable. Chidiebere, my son, had made sure to furnish the room for me, although I was still living in a clay house. A kerosene lamp was lit by the corner of the room and it hissed with every flicker of wind.
The twins, though they did not yet know they were twins, sat on wooden stools. Chidiebere, the one I raised, had the eyes of his late mother, quiet eyes that had pity in them. And Chidindu, the one who grew up under his father’s roof, had the strong jaw and countenance of the man who once shouted at me to throw a baby into the forest.
“We need answers. Why do we look alike?" Emeka asked first. His voice was heavy. "We know people have doppelgängers, but the resemblance is too much. Ebere here has the same birthmark on his face as I. We know you're hiding something Ma."
Chidi laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “I thought the same thing when I saw you at the port. It's like staring at myself in another body.”
They locked their gaze at me, their questions burning, their eyes tearing my soul. I held my hands together and pressed them to each other as if I was praying for courage from our ancestors.
“You're right. You deserve the truth,” I whispered. “Both of you.”
Their eyes were fixed on me. I could tell what they were thinking already.
“Twenty years ago,” I began, my voice trembling. “On a night rain poured without rest over the roofs of Umuoji village. Your mother, Ngozi, was in labour. And I was the only midwife in the village.”
I paused and stared at the wall. I could almost picture myself on that fateful night. Ngozi’s cries were still fresh like it was yesterday. I could still feel her hands gripping the raffia mat, her forehead drenched in sweat.
She was a strong woman who had dealt with marriage. It didn't take her much to push and Chidindu came. Strong, crying, alive. We thought that was all until another cry followed and Chidiebere followed suit.
"Your mother gave birth to two children. Twins that night but.” I paused.
At this point, Chidiebere's lips parted, his body leaning forward. "But what ?" He asked.
Chidindu fingers tapped his knees impatiently.
I looked at their faces. “In those days,” I continued, “our people called twins a curse. They believed that the second child wasn't a gift from the gods but a taboo from the gods for the sins of the parents. It was tradition that the second baby to come out must be left in the evil forest to die, or the land would be stained with misfortune." I stopped again. The story was becoming too much for me to tell. Like a bone stuck in my throat.
"So? We're both still alive. What happened?" Chidindu asked.
"Your father, Mazi Okonkwo, swore in that hour that he would not keep abominations under his roof but your mother, Mama Ngọzi." I nodded sadly. "She begged me, with tears falling like rivers, to save you." I pointed at Chidiebere.
Chidindu swallowed hard. He shook his head. I could see the pain on his face. “You lie not of my father. That man has a stony heart.”
“So you made a choice?,” Chidiebere asked.
"I couldn't resist your mother's pleas. Besides, you were too cute and innocent to be thrown into the evil forest." I whispered. "So, I lied to your father that I had carried one child to the evil forest, but instead I wrapped Chidiebere in a cloth and ran away with him from Umuoji that same night. I raised him in a fishing village far away, where no one knew me, where no one asked questions.”
The silence in the room was palpable. Only the sound of the kerosene lamp crackling could be heard. Outside, the crickets sang.
Chidiebere's eyes shone with tears as he turned to Chidindu. “So, what you’re saying is that we're brothers? Blood brothers?”
I nodded. Tears are streaming down my face.
Chidindu bit his teeth hard. With a clenched fist, he said. “All these years… All these years, I had a brother but you hid him from us "
I fell to my knees and held both of them in my hands. "I did what I did to save your brother. If your father or the villagers knew I spared him, they would have had me stoned, and perhaps killed your mother too. I had to save myself and the baby. That's why I ran. And your mother, I'm sure she carried the secret in her heart until she died.”
"Now it's clear why you told me warnings never to go near Umuoji. Somehow I always felt that a part of me was hidden somewhere.”
I nodded. “I feared for what the consequences would be if the truth was revealed.”
Chidindu stood up suddenly, pacing the small room.
“Now it's all clear why my father never smiled at me or ever truly loved my mother like a husband should. I grew up hating him. My mother.. Our mother died a sad woman. And all the while… my brother was alive.” he faced the wall.
Chidiebere stood and held him by the shoulder. "When I saw you at the market for the first time, I knew it was no coincidence. I knew the universe was talking to us but I just couldn't decipher it."
Chidindu turned to face him. I watched as they locked eyes. It was not anger that held them now, but love that had been denied them for years.
Slowly, Chidiebere stretched his hand toward Chidindu.
“Brother,” he called.
Chidindu stared at the hand for a moment, then grasped it firmly.
“Brother,” he replied.
I wept as I watched them reunite. My chest felt light. Like a burden has been taken off me. A burden I had carried for years, and I almost died with it.
The lamp flickered. Outside, the night was quiet, as if the world itself bowed in respect.
Maybe now was the right time to make another choice.
Go back to Umuoji and fight such tradition while risking being beheaded or stay exiled as a coward and watch innocent babies thrown into the evil forest.
For the first time in years, it was easy for me to make a choice.