Chapter One
It was going to rain again. The dark clouds had gathered like birds seeking for food in the sky. They were heavily pregnant and ready to pour down on the earth without preamble. She could imagine the stench the rain would bring. Absolutely hated the aftermath of rain. It smelled like grass and dirt all mixed in one bowl.
When Hope was old enough to have a phone, the first name she googled was Sangó. She was curious to know the god that blessed her grandfather so much that he still loved her even after her mother died. She didn’t know a thing about the man but she was grateful that he hadn’t abandoned her.
“That’s not the best part,” Hope pointed to the lower part of the picture that held the young man standing next to a philanthropist who was handing him a package.
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Hope Dada completely despised it. Where people thought the pitter patter of the rain as it dripped down their roofs soothed their nerves, it made her furious. There was no pattern. No rhythm.
With a mood darker than the clouds above, Hope lay on her bed. The twenty three year old had been doing the same set of activities for the last five days.
She was stuck.
If Hope wasn’t crying, she was sulking. If she wasn’t sulking, she was sleeping. She was truly hopeless. The reason was stuck in her mind. It kept on playing like a broken record whenever she managed to stop her current routine.
Oma was leaving. She was moving very far away.
Humans are born into families. Most often than not, these families actually love these humans. They welcome them with love and care. Some people aren’t as lucky. Although they were born into families, the family was filled with negativity. Hate, disunity, malice - the list could go on. Then there’s a category that might have a blood related family out there or a relative but in reality have no family.
Hope was one of those people but as disheartening as it was to her as a young child, she had managed to successfully ordain Oma as her family. She was the only human she could call that.
With a mother dead at childbirth, a grandfather who only paid her school fees and a supposed guardian that paid absolutely no attention to her, she had grown otherworldly close to Oma when they had met in primary school.
Now Oma had to leave and it felt like the world had turned into a tiny box that was crumbling above her.
With a mother dead at childbirth, a grandfather who only paid her school fees and a supposed guardian that paid absolutely no attention to her, she had grown otherworldly close to Oma when they had met in primary school.
Now Oma had to leave and it felt like the world had turned into a tiny box that was crumbling above her.
The moment they had graduated from university, her best friend had hitched the first scholarship opportunity she could find. In less than three days, she’d be on the first plane to Germany.
She’d be stuck in Nigeria, alone.
Over the past five days while Hope sulked like she was twenty years younger, she pondered about what her life would be like.
Her nosey neighbors, the Agbelusi’s, were a major pain to her existence and she was dreading facing them alone. She was too loud for their taste. Too modern. She didn’t look like the average Nigerian. Everything about Hope stuck out like the stench of a garbage can to the Agbelusis.
As much as she could hide for a few days, she had to pay her rent soon and as fate would happily have it, Mr Agbelusi owned the duplex they were sharing.
Her mind has also strayed to her American Eskimo who she had named Cappuccino. Cappuccino loved morning strolls around the area and Hope couldn’t take Cappuccino on walks without Oma because it was their routine. Keyword is their.
Oma. Oma. Oma. That was the only name ringing in her head.
Her life was truly going to change. People had commented in the past that they were joined by the hip but now she wished it wasn’t only figurative.
“If you’re done ignoring me, I’d like to head out to the nearest store. I forgot to get face cleansers,” Oma was speaking but the words were bouncing off Hope’s ear.
As if sensing her the lack of presence, she turned her dark head towards Hope. “Do you fancy a walk with your bestie?”
Hope grumbled loudly before giving a befitting answer. “Only if this bestie decides to stay instead of going miles away and abandoning me.”
Oma’s sigh was barely audible. “We’ve gone through this a million and three times. The door is still open, very much wide open, come with me.”
“No.” Hope’s response was instantaneous.
“You have nothing here. What holding you back?”
“Oh, I have no idea Oma. I just feel like sitting around and eating noodles till I become one with Old Joe after studying Architecture in university and coming out with the best grades.”
“Leave Old Joe out of this,” Oma replied calmly, referring to an old brown couch that had earned his name after Oma’s mom had left it on their doorstep.
“I need a break, Oma. I’ve told you that. We just barely graduated for peace’s sake.”
Oma was as cool as a cucumber. There could be a raging storm outside. Cappuccino could be drowning. The house could be burning and yet Oma would be as still and serene as an untouched lake. If she had a knife to her throat, she wondered, would the lake remain still?
“Although you have a ,” Oma paused. “Valid point, I’m not twenty years old like your most royal highness here. I’m twenty five and very much behind my life goals.”
Hope was twenty three.
That made her feel like she was the one without goals. Truly, Hope didn’t know what her next line of action was. She wasn’t religious, but she suddenly felt the urge to pray for a sense of direction. Frankly, the only thing Hope might believe in was Sangó.
Her guardian, Mrs Babalola, knowing that their monthly short call was about to end would say vehemently, “ your grandfather, Sangó bless his soul, sends his regard.”
When Hope was old enough to have a phone, the first name she googled was Sangó. She was curious to know the god that blessed her grandfather so much that he still loved her even after her mother died. She didn’t know a thing about the man but she was grateful that he hadn’t abandoned her.
It had taken Hope a little more than five minutes to be completely absorbed in the Yoruba mythology. In her head, when she needed to have internal conversation, Hope envisioned Sangó speaking to her.
She drew every characteristic she wanted him to have until he came alive in her mind.
She drew every characteristic she wanted him to have until he came alive in her mind.
A mini giant with copper hair, dark green eyes, glowing blue tattoos on his dark chocolate skin. It was truly an abnormal way to describe an Orisha from probably more than a century ago, but then Hope’s mind wasn’t exactly normal either.
Hope imagined lighting cackling around his body like live electricity. She hated thunder, but who was Sangó without it? When he moved, thunder rumbled. Whenever Hope was in trouble, she’d pray that Sangó would materialize and roast her enemies to unrecognizable toasts. He was her consciousness. Now, she hoped he’d drop a compass in her palm and show her where to go.
“I know,” Hope pulled herself out of her thoughts. She shifted around on her bed, trying to get her feet warm.
Her windows were open and the wind was ready to puff and huff and blow everything in its path away. She could tell that the incoming rain was going to be heavier than the last. An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room after that.
While Oma continued packing, Hope surfed through Instagram. All of a sudden, she gasped. She was so loud that it cut through the silence like a sharp knife.
Oma lifted her head from her box and gave her a sideways glance but not her full attention.
“Oma,” Hope called. There was excitement brewing like coffee laced in her voice. “Do you believe in doppelgängers?”
“Is the sky red?”
“You have to see this.” Hope ignored her question and scrambled off her bed. As she did, Oma’s belongings fell headfirst to her carpet.
“This is me.”
Her friend didn’t get the time to react before Hope pushed the screen, almost blinding her in the process with the light, to her face.
Her friend didn’t get the time to react before Hope pushed the screen, almost blinding her in the process with the light, to her face.
They both stared in silent agreement at the photo of a young man who looked exactly like Hope. They were so alike that they could pass off as twins. He had the same tanned skin, hazel eyes, light curly brown hair that even looked the same length.
There weren’t many differences apart from his gender and minor things but one that stood out like a sore thumb was, unlike Hope’s healthy physique, he was the epitome of malnourished. Even caked with dirt, the young man was just as beautiful as Hope.
“That’s not the best part,” Hope pointed to the lower part of the picture that held the young man standing next to a philanthropist who was handing him a package.
“Isn’t that where you were born?” Oma questioned, the wheels turning in her head. Hope could see the telltale signs of shock on her face.
“Yes.” Hope turned thoughtful for a moment.
“This could mean something.”
“Something?” Hope eyes sparkled like someone tipped a bucket of gaiety dust into them. “My mother died at childbirth, but no one said my father died too.”
“You’re going on a father hunt?”
“Am I?” Hope was very unsure.
“You’re definitely thinking of it.”
“Maybe. His resemblance is too uncanny to ignore. What if I had a brother out there? And my dad lived there too but we got separated after I was born.”
“Slow down,” Oma grabbed the phone and turned off the screen.
“I think it’s not the wisest decision right now.”
“But-.”
Hope was cut off.
Hope was cut off.
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. From what your guardian has told you, your grandfather lives in that same area, doesn’t he?”
“Yes?” Hope wasn’t catching on yet.
“And you’ve not met him since you were three. You have no memory of him. This might be the opportunity to properly meet him, get to know him and show him your gratitude for his help during the past years.”
“And during my stay, I’d look out for my doppelgänger and find my paternal roots.”
“Bingo.”
“What would I do without you?”
“You would survive like you’ve always done.” Oma stared at her then chuckled like she had an afterthought. “I’m disappointed though. I always thought your father would be a white man. I could have never guessed that he might be living in Nigeria and not just anywhere, where the slaves once lived.”
“I thought I was the one with the wild imagination.”
“Nothing changes that. You could pass off as a mixed person. You definitely have white genes flowing in you.”
“Do you think I should reach out to my guardian? She can help me notify him beforehand that I plan to stop by.”
“Stop by? You’re going to stay there for a few months and you’ll start by surprising the old man.”
“This is turning out to not be a bad idea, Oma.”
“I smell a but.”
“I’m just a little doubtful. It’s exciting. I’ll meet my grandfather, but my father might not necessarily want to meet me. We both know that he abandoned me when I was born.”
“We don’t know for certain that he abandoned you. We don’t know anything but if the doppelgänger was related to you, he would have survived somehow or by the help of someone,” Oma held her hands. “Just go and find out. You might not end up meeting him but you’d find your doppelgänger and maybe get a lead to who he is.”
“This is crazy but I’m doing it.”
Oma beamed. “You’re not going to be bored when I leave after all.”
“Oh please,” Hope muttered. “I’ll miss you till you step your foot back into this country or I decide to meet you over there.”
“Then we have a plan.”
Hope decided that she’d start packing her bags too. She’d leave a day after Oma. She desperately wanted to talk to Sangó but she didn’t want to zone out at a time like this. She felt he had dropped the compass into her awaiting palm.
Her story was about to start, she could feel it.
Three days later, Hope boarded a danfo bus to Gbagle also known as Badagry. The ride was far from the smoothest she had experienced. But Hope hadn’t had a lot of experiences. She had a Toyota Camry that she had saved to buy, but felt rather uneasy to drive it to her grandfather’s home.
As she sat in the bus, she wish she had done otherwise. She couldn’t tell if it was the smell of the bus or if the bumps were at fault or if it was the man sitting next to her, scarfing down puff-puff that made her nauseous. All she knew was, she had to be out of the bus before her breakfast had its debut out of her stomach.
She was very uncomfortable.
She was very uncomfortable.
The stares she was receiving made her feel like she was an alien that had just dropped into the midst of crazy scientists. When it was time to alight the bus, the bus conductor grabbed her arm. It wasn’t forcefully but it was enough to send a thousand ants crawling up her arm.
“Oyibo, anything for the boys?” He was begging a woman who was borderline about to throw up. She refrained from staring at his decaying teeth for too long for her stomach was unsettled.
She called him an ode, which meant idiot in Yoruba, before heading to the trunk to get her suitcase and duffel bag.
She called him an ode, which meant idiot in Yoruba, before heading to the trunk to get her suitcase and duffel bag.
Twenty minutes later after tracking the address her guardian had given her once, Hope was staring at an aging two story building that looked like it had first been made by mud then renovated at some point. The metallic front door was painted in a dull blue that had various scratch marks on it. The house was once white, Hope decided as she stared at the brown paint.
When she looked up, she spotted rusted railings that looked fragile enough to fall off the balcony if a child leaned on them. The most eye catching feature of the house was that it was huge.
Hope sucked in a huge breath and knocked.
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