Chapter 3: The Okoye Revelation

The couple name na Okoye.

Papa finally talk, “So una be Okoye people? From which side?” The man answer, “Ogwashi-Uku. My people full there.” Mama hiss softly, but let him speak.

As dem explain, the story begin clear.

The man talk how dem struggle reach Eziokwu Health Centre that year—rain fall, motor spoil, e nearly be wahala. The whole family gather closer, some sit on blocks, others stand. E be like village meeting. Neighbours dey peep from fence.

Eighteen years ago, dem dey go check project, na so erosion happen. The woman fear, labour start, dem rush am go nearest health centre—Eziokwu Health Centre. Na small place, only two women born that day, both carry girl.

He describe the old midwife, the green curtain, and how everybody dey rush. Dem talk how e no make sense then, but dem trust hospital people. He mention how the nurses mix up wrapper and name tags—everything happen fast.

Somehow, dem swap the babies, each family carry wrong pikin go house.

Na mistake wey nobody see coming. My mind dey tumble. I dey remember my childhood sickness, how people dey say I too fragile, maybe na spiritual matter. Now e make sense.

If no be say the Okoye family younger daughter just get accident, need blood transfusion, and dem discover her blood type no match, dem for no know anything.

The woman dab her eyes, voice low: “If Chiamaka no get that accident, we for never know. God work in mysterious ways.”

Na film story come meet us for real life.

Papa shake head. Somebody mutter, “Na only for film I dey see this kain thing.” Mama no talk, just dey look me, her eyes dey shine.

My papa and mama face don change as dem dey listen.

Papa scratch chin, Mama fold arms, eyes watery. The weight of the story press down on everyone. Aunty Ngozi hold my shoulder tight. Nobody fit talk anyhow again.

I always different from my family.

My skin lighter, my nose be like the Okoye man’s own. Since I small, dem dey talk say I too fine for Nwosu house, or maybe na juju from Mama’s side. My health always waka, dem try prayer house, but nothing change.

All the Nwosu children strong, big, but me I small, dey sick since small pikin.

Mama always dey worry, “Why you no dey fat like your sisters?” I just dey look floor, feeling like my body betray me. The difference dey clear, but nobody ever think say e fit be like this.

If you look well, my face no resemble my papa and mama at all, but if you check that middle-aged man, I resemble am pass eighty percent.

Aunty Ijeoma nod, “See as her nose resemble their papa own. Na blood dey talk so.” Even some neighbours dey whisper, “E resemble them well, na true.”

Papa no gree, carry me go do DNA test.

He insist, “We no go just believe story. Make test talk am.” The Okoyes agree, everybody wait for result. That week long like one year.

The result clear like day.

Doctor no even stammer. He show the paper, everybody see am—no doubt. Na Okoye blood dey my vein.

Mama just whisper, “Chineke mo!” under her breath.

I no be their pikin.

I remember Mama’s cry that day—she hold me tight, say she no fit forget me, no matter what paper talk. Papa sigh, sit for his favourite chair, head in his hands.

I no be Nwosu Amarachi, na Okoye Amarachi I be.

The name heavy for my tongue. I repeat am inside mind: Okoye Amarachi. New name, new family. The old one still dey drag my heart.

True daughter of rich people—correct original.

Neighbours begin dey hail: “You don hit jackpot o!” But for my body, no joy dey. I just feel lost, like pikin wey miss for market.

When the result show, my papa and mama no even know how dem dey feel.

Mama just dey stare window, Papa dey look ground. Nobody fit talk. My heart dey break, but I no fit show am.

Big Brother scratch head.

He stand for corner, face confused. He rub his head, like say he wan scratch out the pain. He just dey look me, mouth open small.

"So, the small sister wey I dey pamper since, go turn another person pikin now."

His voice low, like breeze. He shake head, hands for pocket. I fit see tears for his eye, but he quick turn away.

Second Sister bite lip, dey worry.

She dey squeeze her wrapper, eye red. She dey look ground, leg dey shake. She no fit talk.

"This one bad o, the swapped daughter story don happen reach us."

Her voice crack, she almost choke. Her words hang for air.

Both of them turn look me together.

They no say anything, but I feel their worry. Na only God know wetin dey their mind.

"Sister, for all those stories, na the real daughter dey suffer pass. You no get mind, you no sabi any trick—how you wan take survive?"

Big Brother voice serious, Second Sister nod. Dem dey worry say I no fit handle big house, rich people wahala. Their faces dey full of concern, like say dem dey look me for the last time.

Fear catch me.

True o.

How I go do?

My belly turn. I dey feel like person wey dem dey push enter bush for night. My hands cold. I dey pray make everything just better pass the stories.