My Sister, the Serial Killer

Whether people can blame genetics for their behavior or ascribe their character to their environment is an ongoing contention in modern psychology, and in literature. As Korede tries to solve the puzzle of her sister’s unaccountably brutal behavior, she notes that Ayoola behaves like their father: “He could do a bad thing and behave like a model citizen right after. As though the bad thing had never happened. Is it in the blood? But his blood is my blood and my blood is hers” (105).

Father possessed a narcissistic and possibly sociopathic personality that allowed him to take advantage of corruption in Nigeria. He was brutal, punishing, and abusive in a patriarchal culture where his domination was never questioned. The adoration and obedience his twin sister Taiwo shows him is indicative of the way they were brought up: She never questions her brother or his choices, even mediating the process of handing young Ayoola to Father’s criminal partner for sexual favors. Father’s favorite knife symbolizes his sociopathic behavior, and Ayoola took the knife from him after he died.

Braithwaite’s choice to depict a family without a male heir is crucial in the development of this theme. In the absence of a son, their mother assigns Ayoola the dominant role over Korede because of Ayoola’s ethereal beauty and raises Korede to be Ayoola’s protector at all costs. The scene where mother loses Korede in the market after Ayoola’s willful and unchecked running away shows the pecking order within the family: “Mum was holding Ayoola’s hand and I walked behind them” (152). Korede walks behind Mother and Ayoola holding hands as if she were not part of the family, and she feels uncertain and afraid. Korede remembers this experience when she feels exposed by her confessions to Muhtar. Conditioned to protect her sister, she feels that her confessions betrayed that most sacred charge: to protect Ayoola.

Ayoola, on the other hand, is untroubled by such moral dilemmas. Like Father, she does exactly what she desires, caring little about the consequences for her or others in her surroundings. She fully expects Korede to be her accomplice in covering up the crimes she commits, much as Aunty Taiwo has done for their father. Korede puzzles over whether she should condone her sister’s behavior by helping her, but in the end, the dilemma is false; there is not a single point in the novel where Korede realistically considers refusing to help Ayoola. The inherited characteristics of psychological instability and disorder represented in Ayoola combine with the familial, cultural, and societal conditioning of Korede, creating a perfect combination that enables murder after murder. 

Braithwaite uses a broader canvas to explore family dynamics by portraying two other families aside from Korede’s: the mother and sister of Femi Durand, and the family of Korede’s patient, Muhtar Yautai. Korede’s family lives in a huge, isolated house, a constant reminder of their father’s criminal life. The house, which they leave only as needed, is a cosmos of its own with only four women inhabiting it: Korede, Ayoola, Mother and one house girl. Formerly very rich, they now live modestly but still belong to a higher class than the other two families. They keep up appearances, staging Father’s memorial at a very expensive venue they can barely afford.

Although Femi lived alone in an apartment building, he had a close bond with his family. Their reaction to his disappearance shows they are loving people who care for each other deeply. His mother phones Ayoola and “her emotion is so strong that I start to cry too […] Her crying is loud and messy. Eventually, the sobs turn to hiccups” (22). Femi’s sister, Peju, posts poetry he wrote on Instagram to keep the public from forgetting about his disappearance. They hire cleaners who discover a bloody napkin; the sister calls out Ayoola publicly on Snapchat, and his “parents have the money needed to rouse the curiosity and professionalism of the police. And now they have a focus for their fear and confusion. They will want answers” (94). When Peju confronts Korede saying, “I just want to know what happened to him […] The worst thing is not knowing” (160), she breaks down and “her cries are deep and loud. She gulps in air and her body shudders” (161).

While Muhtar is a comatose patient in the hospital where Korede works, she only knows that he is a professor and that his family rarely visits him. He is a victim of a car crash caused by his brother. Muhtar’s wife “reminded [Korede] of Ayoola. It wasn’t that her looks were memorable, but she seemed completely oblivious to all but her own needs” (17). Muhtar’s wife is ambivalent to his condition, appearing only when Muhtar wakes up. Korede observes both the wife’s and the brother’s body language: “They are not touching, but their bodies are leaning toward each other as if pulled together by some force. Perhaps they have been comforting each other one time too often” (139).

Chapter 60 shows a deep rift between Muhtar and his immature, pampered son, who has decided he would like to marry not his former fiancée but another woman, because “it’s just money. Isn’t my happiness more important?” (176). Muhtar refuses bluntly to sanction the marriage, which in Nigerian culture is a clear sign that there will be no marriage. When his wife learns of his decision, she attacks him while his brother “has bent his head so low that it threatens to fall off his neck” (189). All she is interested is money and influence, which leads Muhtar to perform talaq, an ancient Islamic ritual by which a man repeats the word, meaning “I divorce you” three times, thereby withdrawing his marriage vows. Although Muhtar’s family is deeply dysfunctional, his accident and subsequent coma have awakened a desire to free himself from the burden of them, juxtaposing his behavior against Korede, who is unable to break her bond with Ayoola.