Ada looked up from the kitchen counters she was busy cleaning at her brother, Zubi. He was her only sibling, if you didn’t include her father’s children with his second wife, whom she didn’t know at all. He was sitting on the tiny kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a small boy, with a slight frown on his face. Ada shook her head. “Seriously?” She asked, getting up and moving to the gas cooker, to wipe the oven clean with a rag. She had moved in two days before, and since it was Saturday, Zubi had finally been able to come over to see what the place looked like. “You think the best thing is for me to move in with you and crowd your three bedroom apartment that already contains a wife, two children and a maid?” “Why not?” He challenged with a frown that was so like hers. They looked so alike that it would have been safe to call him the taller, more masculine, version of her. “Some families of seven in this same city of Lagos live in just one room.” He continued.
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