Omo Dudu ati Omo Pupa!!!!!!

My cousin and I,
as different as night and day,
She, all 5' 9'' of grace,
beautiful ebony black skin,
complexion as rich as pure honey,
lovely, long black hair,
beautiful deep brown eyes,
chubby dimpled cheeks,
with rows and rows of lovely, even white teeth,
nestled between full, luscious lips,
as tall as she was nicely filled out in the right places,
Marilyn that was,
my graceful cousin Marylin
Then there was Sara,
"Kedu?!" they often called out to her in Oyingbo market
"Nngozi! my angel!"
"...Otutu oma!"
"Oyinbo, wa ra ata!"
"...Oginni...."
"...chai! Ahurumghi n'aya!"
But the petite, brown-haired girl always walked on by,
in seeming snobbery,
the greetings would turn sour and abusive,
little did they all know,
that all 42 Kg of the almost-midget,
understood not a single word
of their greetings,
and luckily,
their abuses too,
Golden brown skin,
almost red hair,
a breath away from being albino,
tiny feel and hands,
slight frame,
all of that and little else,
was Sara.
Sara and Marilyn,
light and shadow,
day and night,
midget and giant,
inseparable they were,
together we are,
thick as thieves,
Dudu ati Pupa,
Orobo ati Lepa!
both with our Britico accents,
strolling through Oyingbo market,
haggling over the prices of shombo and stock fish,
"I have too many of them on me!" Marilyn says to me in exasperation,
"I don't even know which one to choose!"
"E ra tolotolo!"
"Shoko re e o!"
"pomo nko?!"
"I wish they would all give me some space!"
"Lucky you!" I lament,
"no one even pays me any attention!"
"...Nngozi...." so I still had him on my case!
"Lucky?! You call me lucky? at least, you have a clear head and your sanity intact!"
"But what is the use of sanity when there isn't even a choice?! where's the future in that?!"
Alas, Dudu ati Pupa,
were one and the same,
in their dilemmas.
As different as we were,
Sisters we were in this Brotherhood
that we had been forced into by our circumstances,
we'd both received the same lectures from our mothers,
alike as we were different,
two peas from the same pod,
as identical as only twins can be,
and as if to mock us,
they found the center of us both,
neither dark nor light,
won o dud tabi pupa,
On the fence they sit,
like they couldn't make up their minds,
about what to pass on to their daughters,
who simply refused to look any bit like either one of them,
Sisters from the same mother,
Sisters in their own Brotherhood
the Brotherhood obsessed with
marrying off their single,
and gradually aging daughters.
So, here we stood,
in the middle of the market,
with the crowd bustling around us,
Nneka!
Adamma!!
Ebere!!!
They call out to Pupa,
Shade!
Omo to dun!!
Omo to shon!!!
They call out to Dudu
But with our British tongues, we lament on,
Issues so similar,
yet different,
But still the same fate starring us both in the face,
Decisions to be made,
out of choices too many and too few,
neither one easy,
neither one better than the other,
the sojourns in Oyigbo,
or those in Trafalgar Square,
too many suitors,
too few suitors,
no wedding bells!
no aso ebi and gele,
no idana and momi, nmo e!
no elaborate ceremonies to plan,
so even the peas in the pod
share the agonies of Dudu and Pupa,
so different,
yet so alike.....