The Darkening Tides of Sibling Rivalry
Across the country, the once harmless quarrels and disagreements between siblings, the kind that used to end in laughter, sulking, or a parent’s stern warning, are increasingly turning into something darker. What begins as petty conflict is now hardening into full-blown hostility. Brothers stop speaking to each other for decades. Sisters become strangers under the same roof. In some homes, bitterness has escalated beyond silence to courtroom battles, and in the most tragic cases, to bloodshed. It is a quiet epidemic of family fractures, writes Victor Ayeni, and its consequences run deeper than many care to admit.
To outsiders, the Moneke family appeared to be the perfect example of unity, always showing up together at weddings, church events and community functions, smiling brightly in well-arranged photographs. But beneath the matching outfits and courteous public displays hid years of unspoken tension and buried resentment. Inside their home in Ejigbo, Lagos, the warmth expected of kin had long grown cold. What should have been a sanctuary of shared memories had turned into a battleground of suspicion and silence.
Francis, the youngest of four, spoke cautiously when describing his siblings. “My brothers are not just unsupportive,” he said. “They don’t even trust one another.” The fractures widened after loss struck twice. In 2014, their mother, Mrs Cordelia, died following a brief illness. Four years later, in 2018, their father, Mr Emeka, passed away from natural causes. With both parents gone, the family that once stood together in public found itself struggling even to remain civil in private.
Francis described both tragedies as the darkest chapters of his life, moments that not only broke his spirit but plunged him into a loneliness he never knew a human being could endure. “After our parents died, everything changed,” he said quietly. “I had no one to turn to. I took any job I could find, teaching in small schools, doing odd work here and there, just to survive. My siblings wouldn’t take me in, so I moved from one place to another, begging friends to let me stay.”
At one point, he found refuge in the home of a woman from his church. For a while, it seemed like compassion had finally found him. But that comfort was short-lived. “She began to treat me with contempt,” he recalled. “Her attitude changed. I went from being a guest to feeling like a burden. I couldn’t stay there any longer.” “I was homeless, but the proprietor of the school where I taught took pity on me and allowed me to live within the school compound, sleeping in one of the classrooms. After being in that kind of state for like six years, enduring poor pay and literally turning to a houseboy for the school proprietor and his son, I had to look for another job. All through these years, my siblings never cared about me,” Francis told Sunday PUNCH.
According to the 29-year-old, his older brothers, all business owners, would frequently come to him for financial assistance, borrowing from his meagre salary. Yet, despite their promises, none of them ever paid him back. In late 2024, a ray of hope shone on Francis when he secured a job at a factory in Ikeja that offered a slightly better salary. “But the problem of finding an accommodation still stared me in the face,” Francis recounted. That was when one of his paternal uncles held a meeting with his siblings to mediate in the irrational hostility going on in the family.
“My uncle was puzzled that I had three brothers in Lagos, two of whom are single, yet none of them was willing to accommodate me, even for a short while. He felt bad when he heard in detail how I had been sleeping in classrooms and squatting with friends since our parents passed.” After their uncle intervened, one of Francis’s older brothers, Chukwudi, an auto dealer, grudgingly offered him a place to stay. But what seemed like an act of kindness soon revealed itself to be a Greek gift, a gesture that not only intensified Francis’s suffering but further widened the gulf between the brothers.
Ten Agonising Months
In December 2024, Francis moved into Chukwudi’s house with the hope of staying for a year, just long enough to save enough money to rent a place of his own. But it didn’t take long for that hope to unravel. Within the first few weeks in his brother’s cramped one-room apartment, Francis realized the true nature of the arrangement. It was not a homecoming, but an uneasy coexistence, one where he had to constantly watch his words, measure his movements, and tread lightly, as though every misstep could trigger conflict.
He was not a brother under his brother’s roof; he was a tolerated intruder walking on eggshells. “For as long as I could remember, Chukwudi has always resented me,” he noted. “He was always angry about everything I did. The factory job itself was stressful, but whatever little peace I had at work would vanish the moment I stepped into his house. He complained about everything I did; I could never please him. He just hated me and shouted at me, even in the presence of his neighbours. I was unhappy and withdrawn. After some months, his hostility intensified as he started reporting me to our other brothers, saying I’m a thief, and too lazy to stay with him.”
Things got so bad that one day in August, he looked me straight in the eye and called me ‘worthless and useless,’” Francis recalled. “He said my presence had robbed him of every moment of happiness and success since the day he took me in. He complained that he couldn’t even bring his girlfriends home anymore because I was invading his privacy.” The tension soon escalated into open hostility. “One day, in a fit of anger, he threw my bags outside the house,” Francis said. “If not for our uncle’s intervention, I would have been stranded on the street.”
When Chukwudi began issuing direct threats to evict him, the family stepped in once more and arranged for Francis to move to another brother’s house in the Ikorodu area of Lagos. “For a while, Nnamdi agreed to the arrangement, but I don’t know what Chukwudi told him about me,” Francis said. “Not long after, he changed his mind and told me to remain where I was. Then in August, Chukwudi issued an ultimatum, he said I must leave his house by September or he would have me arrested for theft.”
Things only worsened from there. “About three weeks later, he warned me never to touch his food again and moved two of his girlfriends into the same one-room apartment. I felt like a complete outsider. I couldn’t stay in that space anymore, so I started squatting with friends and colleagues or sleeping outside on most nights, even in the cold.” The emotional strain soon became unbearable. “When the accusations of theft continued, and he wouldn’t stop shouting and cursing at me, I finally walked away. I resigned from my job and moved in with a friend. I’ve cut off all contact with my brothers, especially Chukwudi. I’ve blocked his numbers. I don’t ever want to have anything to do with him again,” Francis said, his voice tightening with anger.
“I want him to suffer.”
