Living in one room was a new experience for me. Before then, when we were still living in a three-bedroom flat, l had my own room, Chinwe had hers, while my parents shared the remaining one. But now, l had to share one room with Chinwe, while my parents shared the other one.

Now l had to watch Chinwe dress up everyday. At first it was nothing to me, untill l was introduced to corn.

I had visited my best friend and classmate John one Saturday afternoon at home, his parents had gone out, and his elder brother was at work. So we were alone when he brought out a video disc tape, slotted it into the VCD player, and told me to just watch; “you are going to like the video,” while smiling wryly.


Lo and behold, the video started showing images of n-de white men and women having segs. I surely did enjoyed the video like John had promised me.

Honestly, I didn’t know what happened to me that day, but l got addicted to corn from that very day onwards. Every Saturday afternoon that power was on, saw me running over to John’s house to watch different corn videos with him. I didn’t know how he managed to do it, but John was always slipping out a new corn disc tape from his elder brother’s room every Saturday morning, before his senior brother left for work.

I was just seventeen then, while my sister, Chinwe was fifteen.

Perhaps it was because of my new-found corn addiction that l began to watch Chinwe more closely and imagine things, whenever she was dressing up. Of course, l’d seen her n_ked so many times in the past, but now, l began to look at her with new eyes. I recognized that this girl was just not my sister, she was a woman. She had all the things that the women l saw in the corn videos having segs had: brezz; though hers were still small and a triangle in-between her legs.

And she was beautiful. Chinwe looked very much like our mother, and nothing like our father, who was an ugly man. I, on the other hand looked very much like our father and nothing like our mother. My father and l were dark, very dark indeed, while Chinwe was light and creamy as milk, just like my mother. She was a delight to look at.

Soon, l fell in love with my sister Chinwe, and when l say love, l’m not talking about the love that brothers have for their sisters, I’m talking of a more mature love, the love that men have for their lovers. Love more powerful than an electric current.

A love so powerful that it scared me. The passion that l felt for Chinwe was so powerful that l always felt a lump in my throat whenever l laid eyes on her.

One day she had bought one of those tight blouses that girls use to wear, and she was in our room struggling to get into it. I sat in one corner of the room laughing at her.

Finally, she shouted at me in exasperation.

“Ugo, stop laughing at me, and come and help me, won’t you?”

I got up from the mattress and sauntered over to her.

“Na you girls dey put yourselves into trouble with all these tight tight blouses you people wear”

“Oh, just shut up and help.”

And so l grabbed one edge of the blouse and pulled it down. My hands slid to the front and casually brushed against her brezz. I’m sure that Chinwe didn’t notice that slight touch, but there was an instant reaction from my mamba.

Casually, very nonchalantly, l moved my hands, brushing it against her brezz again. An electric current seemed to shoot through me. Slowly, l moved my hands upwards, until they were cupping her brezz. I then squeezed ever so softly.

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True Love kill you there. Oya con dey go hellfire my friend.