My earliest memory of her was her getting her hair plaited. Even as a baby, her hair was so long it had me wishing mine was just as long.
Her hair is in direct contrast to mine. Where hers is brown and straight, showing obedience to stylists, mine is black and curly, showing unruliness and silent stubbornness, shrinking back to its former style.
Well we will both grow up, amidst fights for territory and acknowledgement. We will both learn how to work with each other, and we will become each other's pillar at different points in life.
I have always known her as a strong woman, but the past year showed me that she is stronger than I ever thought her to be.
She gives loyalty its definition, she is beauty epitomized, and she is stubborn... very stubborn. O lord she is stubborn!
She is the last of the five children, and on days when she decides to use her right as the lastborn, she makes me want to scratch my eyes out.
About four months ago, she became a mother.
Her daughter, Tiaraoluwa, has brought joy and additional headache to my life. I look forward to her smiles every morning and have to tolerate her sloppy kisses and unexpalinable cries in the hot afternoons. I think she has my hair too. Lol
Chinwe and I are not as close as she is with my immediate younger sister, Amaka, but we have shared many memories, including getting arrested on my last birthday (No,not by the police).
We are both novel readers, we both watch movies to escape, and we share two names.
She is Chinwengozi, and I am Chinweotuto. The short form of both names is Chinwe. Also we were both born on Sunday and so by default, in our tribe of birth, Yoruba, we are called Abosede, Bose for short.
Chinwe brings out this maternal feeling in me. I feel responsible for her, even though there are times, many times, when she is richer, stronger, finer and better than me. I seem to have transfered the feeling from her to her daughter.
I remember when we were quite little and it was raining. Where we lived then, the kitchen was outside, and one had to walk to the otherside to get to and from it.
So it was raining and we needed to get in the parlour from the kitchen and that meant crossing through the rain on cememnted floor to the otherside of the building.
So here I am, trying to make sure my little sister doesn't get wet, and in trying to get through the rain as quickly as possible, I carried her.
Picture this: one thin little girl carrying a healthy baby and walking on wet cemented floor.
So, yes we fell.
She hit her head on the floor, and I hit my mouth somewhere I can't remember. All I can remember is this fear that something was wrong with her.
The tears in my eyes were not from pain of the injury I sustained, or for fear of being disciplined by my father, no it was of fear of something going wrong because of the fall.
Well we survived. I never carried her again.
Chinwe can be annoying but she is my little sister, and will always be.
Today is her birthday.
Happy Birthday Victoria Chinwengozi Nwankwo. May you shine brighter and brighter each day.
PS: I'm still waiting for the birthday rice.