Ofo and Ógù

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ON the day they turned eighteen, Ofo and Ógù, my twin children, had a very brutal fight that nearly led to shedding of blood.

It was at twilight, just after the third cockcrow, when I was roused from my sleep by clanking of metal objects, banging on wooden frames, and piercing screams from my wife and Ekemma, my only daughter and the youngest of my children.At first, I thought I heard the noise in my dreams, for it was unusual to hear such a noise in my house, for chaos hardly erupts in a leopard’s den.

Then, when I heard my wife’s distress call, ‘‘Nna anyi! Nna anyi! Your children are fighting! Ofo and Ógù are killing each other,’’ I knew that the chaos was actually happening right within the confines of my house.

Then, she banged on my door, an action that, on a normal occasion, she wouldn’t have had the gut to do. But I don’t blame the poor woman. I understand her fears — it took her more than twenty-five years to conceive and give birth to our three children (Ofo, Ógù and Ekemma), and seeing these children dying in a conflict under her own nose was something she couldn’t bear. She feared that my delay in coming out to stop the fight would hasten the catastrophe that was about to strike in my household.

I jumped out of my iron mattress, and hastened to the door.

Though the light in my oil lamp had gone out, I could find my way in the dark.

I unbolted the door with a loud clank and yanked it open.

Ekwe, my wife, was already crying. ‘‘Your children are killing each other.’’

I ignored her and hastened to the scene of the chaos.

As I rushed into the room which Ofo and Ógù shared, I saw the silhouette of a person jump out through the window and disappear. It was when I looked at corner of the room and saw Ofo sitting with his head askew(with Ekemma crouching by his side, sobbing and attending to his wounded head) that I knew that it was Ógù who had jumped out of the window.

When I interrogated Ofo on what led to their fight, he said that he wanted to close their window because he was feeling cold, but Ógù dared him not to, that he was feeling hot. Trying to exercise his seniority over his twin brother, Ofo closed the window, and all hell was let loose.

Ofo and Ógù were not identical twins and, sometimes, I wondered if that contributed to their varying likes and dislikes. Ofo was plump, average in height and hairy, but his twin brother was tall, muscular and had a skin that glowed like a polished terracotta.

Ógù, no doubt, took after me, while Ofo looked much like Ekwe, their mother.

I swallowed hard as I saw the gash on Ofo’s head. I wondered what level of provocation that would make a man inflict such degree of injury on his sibling. I felt a premonition hanging in the air, but I felt constrained to stop it.

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