Dikachi

What goes around comes back around was Papa’s anthem, motto, advice and food for thought. He said it whenever he got the chance. Each time my sister tried to cheat me off my piece of meat, or whenever my brother tried one of his funny tricks. He said it like the other party was trying to maltreat him.

“You think you’re doing me, just watch out. Because what goes around comes around. You’ll get what you deserve.”

I think Papa said those words thinking they didn’t affect the pronouncer. He probably thought that as long as he said it, he was fine and good to go. That karma won’t come back to bite him. Maybe Papa would have gotten away with it if Dikachi hadn’t gotten that letter of acceptance from the artisan program he applied for months ago. Maybe if Papa had allowed Dikachi to go, karma wouldn’t have gotten him that way.

After the letter came, Dikachi was so excited he couldn’t stop walking around, talking about it and stopping occasionally to read it again. He had gone the extra mile to print the letter so he could show it to Papa. He wanted Papa to come home and see that he had been selected to attend a seminar for society’s talents. At twenty, Dikachi had life going for him. He could make a painting look like a photograph. Mama described his hands as one of those that painted what the world should look like.

As Dikachi paced waiting for Papa to return, we all sat in the sitting room watching him pace. We were excited too.

“Papa will kill goat for him,” Chinasa reported with a firm nod. She liked meat so much. She was prepared to walk through fire and ice to get a piece of meat. Mama said when she was little, way before I was born, she’d say she want meat whenever she was asked what she wanted as a reward for topping her class. Even though her mates wanted bicycle or phone, or a trip to somewhere luxurious, my sister just wanted to eat meat.

“I don’t want meat, I just want Papa to allow me to go,” Dikachi said and shot her a look. He was older than her with four years and he was still unable to intimidate her. Mama said it was because Dikachi wanted a sibling so bad that when Chinasa came along, he was too busy playing good brother to think of intimidating her.

“You better ask for both.”

Dikachi didn’t respond, he went back to pacing. I watched my brother pace with a smile on my face. He was tall and had a skin everyone referred to as oyinbo and no, he wasn’t an albino. He was just fairer, and his dark hair made him look like he was one of God’s best creations. All the girls I know wanted him and my brother had dated a good number of girls, painted all of them, and still managed to get dump every single time. Chinasa said they were just using him for his gift. My friends always said they won’t use him for his gifts, I watch twelve-year-old talk about how beautiful my brother was. How he took all the beauty of Mama, Papa’s height, and then they’ll ask where he got his complexion from. I’d have to explain that our grandmother was fair, she might as well had been a real oyinbo. The door rattled and all our attention turned to it. Papa struggled to open the door. Dikachi stood unmoving, staring at the door like it was an apparition.

“Remember to ask for goat.”

Papa entered the room and I ran to hug him. When I was little, Papa used to pick me up and twirl around but he doesn’t anymore. Chinasa said it was because Papa’s waist could break if he overstressed it. Since she told me that, I’ve been jumping on Papa, longing to hear that crack sound and see Papa limp. Justina’s father limps and she said it was because her father was in an accident. She probably jumped on him and broke his waist. I jumped on Papa, but he doesn’t hold me up. He wrapped his arms around me the second I’m back on the floor.

“Nkiru, how are you?”

I mumbled a fine as he told Mama to remind him to tell Amadi to come and fix the door. Mama said okay and stood up. She walked into the kitchen and Chinasa followed her after mouthing goat to Dikachi.

“Papa, Dika got accepted into that art thing he applied for. They sent him a letter. Dịka, show him.”

Dikachi shot me a look before handing the letter to Papa. Papa collected it and stared at it. He stared so hard I was scared the paper would burst into flames. Chinasa said Papa can’t read, so he pretends his eyesight is bad so we wouldn’t think low of him. I stared at Papa, watching his cracked lips move without making any sound. I couldn’t tell if he was actually pronouncing the words or just pretending to pronounce it. Whichever one, Papa thought he could fool me. But Chinasa was right because Papa mumbled photosynthesis and there was no photosynthesis in the letter.

“Papa, I have to write back to them, to tell them I can go. I can go, right?”

Papa didn’t reply, he stared long and hard at the paper. I wanted to lean over, point at a word and say, “Congratulations, papa. Say it after me, congratulations.” but I knew Papa would stop talking to me like he stopped replying Ogo’s greetings after she told him it was pronounced, ‘bicycle’ and not ‘bascoon’.

Papa folded the paper and placed it on the table. He turned to me and smiled, “Go and tell your mother to bring my food.”

I wanted to ask Papa if he thought I was an idiot. Did he think he could send me on a stupid mundane task so he could break my brother’s heart? But I said nothing, I was twelve and though Papa wouldn’t flog me, he’d content himself with keeping malice with me, I couldn’t say the same for Mama. While most of my friends would rather their mother caned them, I’d rather Papa did it. He just didn’t have it in him, the poor man. He just wanted to hurt you by not responding to you and Papa knew the best way to use his silent treatment to hurt you.

I stood up and left for the kitchen but not before sparing Dikachi a glance. My brother must have known what my father was about to say because he was already clenching his jaw. Chinasa said she’d rather Mama caned her than be at the receiving end of my brother’s anger. I think the same thing too even though I’ve never seen Dikachi angry. Chinasa said it was not something I should pray to see, because Dikachi didn’t think of anyone or anything, he just acted, consequence be damned.

The second Chinasa saw me, she shoved a bowl of water in my hand and sent me right back, without giving me a chance to deliver my message. Later, she told me that it was my presence that had made Dikachi do what he had done rather than kill our father. I don’t think my presence mattered much, but Dili said Dikachi had told him my presence had stopped him from ramming Papa’s head into the wall.

When I returned to the sitting room, Dikachi was glaring hard at Papa and I knew right away that Papa had refused him from going. Papa was looking anywhere but at Dikachi and when he saw me, he smiled. Relived, probably, that his son wasn’t going to kill him right away.

I pulled the stools from the corner of the three sitters, hearing the squeals its heels dragged on the marble floors, willing the noise to cut through the tension in the air. But maybe I wanted to tick Dikachi off, get him to beat Papa to a pulp, to get a reaction other than silent treatment from Papa. Nothing happened. I placed the bowl next to the stool and took my seat opposite Papa, so I could see how the blows landed on him if ever Dikachi decided to rain punches on him.

Mama came in a little later, a tray of food in hand and Chinasa followed closely behind with a glass jug of water and a glass tumbler to match. I wondered if she brought it to aid in Papa’s beating that Dikachi was going to bring him.

“Kachi, what’s wrong?”

“Ask Papa.”

Papa didn’t wait for Mama to ask, he went right ahead and said, “I told him he couldn’t go to the art thing.”

Mama said nothing, she just stared at Papa like she couldn’t believe it. Dikachi breathed deeply, unclenched his fists and clenched them again. Chinasa dropped the jug and tumbler on the floor and looked at Papa.

“Why?”

Mama placed the food on the stool and went to stand beside Dikachi. I wanted to go stand beside Dikachi but I felt it was useless. Chinasa had her hands on her waist, waiting for the explanation Papa was going to give.

“He needs to learn a good business venture. Art won’t feed him or his family. He needs to learn a craft.”

In our dining room, there’s a mural of a flower. A painting that made Dikachi famous because Chinasa had taken a photo of it and posted it on her Instagram page. A lot of people had called Dikachi to come recreated that magic in their house. Dikachi had made a lot of money from it, so much that he was able to pay for Chinasa’s WAEC and buy me a bicycle even though I specifically said I wanted a power bike.

Papa probably forgot or maybe he was just pretending not to remember.

“Dikachi will go to the art retreat,” Chinasa’s voice was firm, it left no room for argument or discussion. It was too bad she wasn’t Papa’s mother.

“We’ll know who’s the owner of this house.”

I wanted to say it was Mama, that Mama paid our bills, sent us to school while he went out doing heaven knows what and coming back with ideas on how we could improve our lives. I wanted to remind him that just because his art didn’t work for him doesn’t mean that Dikachi’s won’t work for him. Because he didn’t see Dikachi giving up after one rejection, but Mama had told us never to mention it because it hurts Papa’s ego.

Chinasa said Mama is still hanging on to what Papa used to be. She said Mama is waiting for Papa to realise that his failures don’t define him. She said Mama need to remember that Papa isn’t what he used to be. Dikachi said Mama told him that after he was born, Papa had gotten a lot of money that he had used to pay for the hospital bills and get them where to stay. But the money had run out and Papa just wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Why won’t Dikachi go?”

Papa looked at Mama. “He’ll be disappointed.”

“I can handle disappointment.”

“I thought the same thing too.”

“He’ll go and then if he gets disappointed, he’ll decide if he wants to handle it or be like you.”

Pape flinched and I understood why. Mama had never called him out on his lazying around. She just took it and hoped he’d get better and somehow it made Papa safe or something along those lines. Papa got his self-worth and validation from Mama. Chinaza said it wasn’t healthy for Papa to live that way.

“He’s not going,” Papa mumbled.

Mama shook her head. “He’ll go.”

“You see, Ngozika that’s your problem. You keep disrespecting me in front of these children and wonder why they won’t respect me. You’re an incompetent mother and a bad wife, I swear I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“PAPA!”

Chinasa rushed over to help Mama hold back Dikachi. I wasn’t going to be caught in a crossfire. I wanted Dikachi to bring Papa a beating, so he’d see how much respect Mama made us have for him. Chinasa said Papa was a bad man; he loved himself too much and he didn’t think he could do any wrong, and even when he did, he liked to think Mama forced him into it. That it was Mama’s fault that he did something awful.

“Papa, Dika will beat you one day,” was all I said before going to the kitchen to get my food. I wasn’t the cause of the problem, so it was unlikely that I’d starve myself because of it.

Papa didn’t eat, he kept yelling profanities in the air, repeating his favourite line over and over. Mama didn’t eat too, she was up in her room. Dikachi didn’t it too, he was in his room. Chinasa didn’t eat too, but she ate all four pieces of meat.

The next morning, when Dikachi came downstairs, I knew something was off. He smiled and greeted Papa, hugged Mama tightly and kissed Chinasa on the cheek. And he told me I was as beautiful as he was told I’d be. I liked the compliment, really liked it but it was like Dikachi was having an out of body experience and we were witnessing it. Later, Chinasa said she thought Dikachi was abducted by aliens.

Dikachi stayed home that day and didn’t go near a paintbrush. He cooked lunch and dinner and bought Coke and Fanta for all of us. He said he just hasn’t appreciated us for being his family. Mama asked about his art retreat, he said it was okay. It was completely fine.

That night, Chinasa had asked if Dikachi hit his head somewhere because he brought home a fully roasted goat for her. Papa said nothing, he just stared and wondered. Mama had the decency to ask where he got all the money from. Dikachi said he’d been saving.

The next morning, all the house chores had been done when we woke up. Breakfast was served and Dikachi was grinning widely at us. I was scared because my brother had, in my head, allowed grief to turn him into a psychopath. He was going to kill us all because of an art retreat Papa forbade him from attending.

“Just so we’re clear, I was in support of you going to that art retreat. Papa was the only one who didn’t want you to go, so before you kill all of us, I want you to know and focus all your twisted anger on the real criminal. Papa. Papa, please say hi and wave at he’ll know who his enemy is. Thank you.”

Dikachi laughed and shook his head. “I’m not going to kill him. Papa will get what’s coming to him.”

Dikachi’s laugh didn’t sound right.

The day Papa got what was coming to him, Dikachi came home twice.

The first time he did, he brought a carton of 5Alive and chicken. He said we were going to be celebrating an amazingly sad and gut-jerking event. We didn’t understand and when we tried to get him to explain, he said surprise was key to making it work. I was restless, I couldn’t wait to find out.

He kept asking Papa if he was alright if he needed anything but Papa kept saying he was fine. Then Dikachi would mumble under his breath that Papa won’t be fine for long. I believed that Dikachi wanted to poison Papa.

The second time Dikachi came back home, I went to get the door. My jaw dropped when I opened the door and saw Dikachi standing at the door. He grinned when he saw me but I was flabbergasted by the sight of him.

“Nkiru, how are you?”

When I didn’t reply, he laughed and this time it sounded right.

“Guy,” Dikachi said and pushed past me to shake the Dikachi that I left in the kitchen. My throat ran dry as two boys who looked exactly like my brother exchanged pleasantries. I tried to say something, but my mouth kept opening and closing until I screamed for Mama.

Mama came rushing into the sitting room but she froze the second her eyes landed on the two Dikachi. Chinasa and Papa made it into the sitting room too.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Nkiru, what’s going on?”

“Why are you asking me? How will I know? I was inside the kitchen with Dika and then somebody knocked on the door, I opened it and then this Dika came in.”

The Dikachi I was with in the kitchen laughed and shook his head. “My name is Okwudilichukwu. Dili for short.”

“And my name is Onyedikachukwu, Dikachi for short.”

“My name is Nkiruka, Nkiru for short.”

“My name is Chinasa, Asa for short.”

“Nobody calls you Asa.”

“I’ll slap the both of you,” Mama said to Chinasa and me before turning to Dili and Dikachi. “I don’t understand.”

“Mama, this is my twin brother.”

Chinasa scoffed. “Naso dam dey carry get twin. Your doppelganger.”

Dikachi shook his head, “Twin. Right, Papa?”

It was then I remembered that Papa was also in the room. He was staring at both boys like they were a memory he didn’t want to relive. His face was fallen and beads of sweat graced his forehead. I think it made Papa more scared that both boys were grinning at him.

“Why should Papa know if he’s your twin? Did he help Mama to born both of you?”

Dikachi turned to Dili and said, “Do you want to take this one? Or should I?”

Dili shook his head. “I got it.”

Simply put, Dili had a lot. The story he told and the way he told it made Mama cry and left Chinasa speechless. I was shocked and Papa just stood there as Dili tried his best to not use insulting words to describe him. The more Dili told, the more Papa backed away until he had nowhere to go. With his back now on the wall, Papa’s eyes couldn’t stay still.

“Is this true?” Mama asked after Dili was done narrating his story.

“I had no choice,” Papa cried. “You had to leave the hospital and this nice couple were childless. His wife had just given birth to a stillborn. For the love of God, what were going to do with two children? How were you going to raise them both? I did it for you.”

“You sold my son for me?”

“We needed the money and where did you think the money came from?”

“You said you sold a painting of yours.”

Papa paused and looked at Mama hard and long. She was crying now and her anchor was Chinaza who held her around the waist, making sure she didn’t get to Papa for any reason.

“Where did you get the idea of me painting from? Honestly woman! Do you believe everything I tell you? You had to have known that I don’t paint. You just had to have known I didn’t have any creative spirit in me, but if I did, I’d be pretty good at it.”

“Get out.” Mama’s voice low and had a growl in it. Papa had the guts to look taken aback. He made to step forward, but Dikachi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the door. Dili opened the door and Dikachi shoved him out.

“What goes around…” Dili said.

“Comes back around,” Dikachi completed.

They slammed the door in Papa’s face.