When the first wave of Covid-19 hit Nigeria alongside rumors of states shutting down, to be frank, I was kind of excited.
I had been going through a rough time at work; my personal life was non-existent, and the only thing that occupied my mind at night was how to survive and get through the next day. I was mentally drained. My once dainty being had metamorphosed into a dramatic germophobe as the number of positive COVID-19 cases in Abuja was slowly starting to build up.
A total lock down in my city seemed like a good and welcomed line of action, but not until I realized this meant schools would have to vacate, and my only sister would return home. My joy was cut short.
In the past, my sister and I have always had a strange relationship, which may or may not be common amongst siblings. Cohabitating together was something we had been forced to do from the moment she was born, but we never got used to it. You see, we share a room, a bed, and at one point, a towel and, anyone would think this should create a bond, but it never did.
Growing up, we would pull pranks on each other like when she hid one leg of my Christmas shoe and did not budge even after our mother yelled at me. We engaged in senseless arguments, which sometimes got physical, and we would exchange hurtful words without holding back. I called her rude; she called me dramatic; our parents were fed up.
Our squabbles did not stem from any form of obscure competition (if that is what you are thinking); it was just a profound intolerance for the other’s presence. At some point, I was convinced we were irredeemable and could never be friends – I detested my sister and would have cut her off a long time ago had we not be siblings, and I’m sure she felt the same way.
We got older, and our disputes were replaced by silence. We were now ladies who had created bonds away from family, who were going through similar spells of relationships, heartbreak and quarter-life crisis. Still, even though we needed each other now more than ever, it seemed pointless to try building anything. She thought I had a perfect life and was judgmental while I thought she was inconsiderate and proud – how wrong we were, but how could we have known when we never really communicated. At this time, we were strangers who admired each other’s accomplishments from afar, and it seemed like a reliable way to live if we wanted to avoid fights.
I do not remember the exact moment my emotions swayed, but I slowly started to yearn for a bond with my sister. It must have been after she got into University and made amazing friends because I always wondered how they managed to live with her and even claim to miss her when she was home for a holiday. I must have been doing something wrong.
I would stalk her social media pages for clues into her life and thoughts. I tried to call more, but our conversations were shallow and almost superficial. I wanted to be her friend, I wanted to be there for her, and I also needed a sister.
Three years ago, things started to change. Not to say we did not have any disagreement, but they were minor and, in some ways, friendly. I remember one time we argued before I left for work, and when I got back, she had folded my laundry and even apologized for upsetting me. Who was this being? I wondered, but I did not have to wonder for long because the character I was familiar with would resurface again and remind me how beautiful her absence was.
However, this time it is different. Perhaps, we can attribute it to growth from both ends or the emotions the pandemic has left us to deal with – how quickly the world as we know and the people around us can be lost.
It started slow. Whenever she noticed I needed to be alone, she gave me space, and I returned the favour by listening to tales she considered funny. We were kind and gentle in our words and actions, careful not to trigger the other, and before I knew it, it didn’t seem forced. We went from strangers to sisters who shared secrets that no one else knew and sought each other’s honest opinions – we were friends!
I can’t say everything is perfect, but we are better than I could have imagined in a million years. Things happen during my day, and I can’t wait to tell my sister, and, on her side, she messages me at work to check on me.
The economy is slowly opening up, and I have to fully resume my day job. I am back to feeling drained, yet, even days when I am tired and cranky, we still manage to stay kind to one another like the morning sun on clouds.
I lost my roommate and gained a sister during a pandemic that has torn families apart and for this reason, I am thankful.
Reading is an old hobby she had abandoned even though she still prides herself with the knowledge of literary writers like George Elliot, Mark Twain, Stephen King and a few others. She loves the way she silences her audience whenever she shares her extensive knowledge gotten from these books. They listen with hidden envy at how she lets their names, titles, and quotations roll out of her mouth with ease as though she were explaining the simple act of making moi-moi. Indeed, reading is a past hobby she loved but that’s all it is to her now, the past. 
The Sכribbler 