What was before

I stared blankly at the crib then back at her. She was beautiful, that was undeniable as well as a bitter pill to swallow for many but rarely unsuccessful. I watched as her soft frisky brown curls bobbed up and down, etching forwards every time she moved her head and I wondered why someone looking like her would be so heartless. Calling her a goddess would be an understatement because everywhere she went, men hardly resisted the feeling of giving her countless stares and it amazed me really, how their gazes continued in her direction till she disappeared. The look on their faces was hardly unrecognizable- utter disbelief and pure dismay and truly my sister's beauty was out of this world. I wouldn't blame them much. Women on the other hand will always be women. On their part, they couldn't help being overtly jealous, it was the sneers and snorts, raw gossip and backbiting from them every time I visited the city market with her. Sometimes I felt sorry for her because she was fragile and prone to being exploited but she seemed not to mind at all. To her all that mattered was that she was honoured, adored and worshipped. She was every kid's role model. Every teenager dreamt to be like her. In fact everyone around town knew her and even though she was way too far from being a celebrity, they kissed the ground she walked on and that was the real problem. The real cause for her disdain.

Ideally everyone would think that I was also jealous of her physique probably because I am more less of her than she is but to think of the worst, there were times before I wished that I would be like her even just for a moment, half a second would be too generous but my fairly god mother never gave ear to my request. Since then, I grew up knowing fully well I could never compete with her even if I tried. In fact she made sure I engraved that notion on my heart and indeed I did.

But now looking at how she treated her baby, she was more or half more than the baby's father who left her when she was pregnant and she was not going to act like I was the baby's mother while she was out showing her figure off.

"I will pay you a couple of kwachas if you help me change that baby's diaper, Elise. That baby be stinking as hell," she said, pinching her nose shut. "Ain't no way I'm carrying that baby." She finished, her eyes narrowing as if she would go collapse sooner than later.

I sighed. I had enough. Indeed that was my niece and truly I loved her but my sister drove me crazy and if she really loved her child of which she did not which I cared less about what she liked or not, she was still her mother and now she needed to prove it.

I picked up my shawl, ready to leave, Theza knew what I was about to do.

"Elise, I know you won't walk out on me right now," she sounded stern but not stern enough to lure me into one of her traps. I refused to be hoodwinked let alone by her because of her life choices. Sometimes pity was a sin and I was ready to agree with that.

I had already gotten to the doorway when I turned back to look at her, a smirk playing wildly on my face.

"You know nothing, big sister."