Given the attention the story had attracted in Bogotá the reluctant twins, Carlos and Wilber, anticipated that the guests, intrigued by the switch, would have them repeat the sequence of strange events several times. People might not listen closely to how the confusion and its resolution unfolded, but everyone would stare unabashedly at the twins’ faces, bodies, and gestures in search of similarities and differences. Wilber and Carlos were just not into stardom, celebrating their newfound behavioral and physical likenesses privately and quietly, scoffing at their brothers’ occasional attempts to sport matching clothes, shoes, and goatees. Most important, Carlos would have little precious time to get to know his biological parents and siblings in a calm, intimate setting, which both he and Wilber felt was essential if those relationships were to move forward.
What some people later interpreted as frostiness toward his La Paz parents and siblings, even rejection, was a disoriented young man who was trying to wrap his head around a life that truly had been his destiny if not for a careless mistake made years earlier. The alternative world that Carlos saw for the first time was far removed from the one in which he was living. Bogotá allowed him to fulfill his dreams of getting an education; he became a financial analyst and earned a good income. He enjoyed clubbing with friends, attending rock concerts, and watching football games. None of this would have been possible if he had returned to La Paz where he was born. He somehow sensed that he would have been a different person, but at the time he would not acknowledge this and even denied it. His life in Bogotá was also a poignant reminder of the mother he had loved so completely, buried all too soon, and mourned so deeply. With time, Carlos became reconciled to his situation and established new family ties on his own terms, but crowds were not part of that, and until he was able to assimilate his past and present circumstances, people misunderstood what he said and did.
* * *
Jorge did most of the talking during the trip to our first stop in Vélez, a pattern that persisted even after we arrived at his brother’s home turf in La Paz. Several times the driver pressed William for directions, but he seemed uncertain, even though he had made this trip many times. Some might suspect that the country boy felt overshadowed by the city boy, who generally took command when they were together, but there was genuine trust between these two and they were fine with it. Of course, maybe the early hour prevented William from responding to the driver’s constant call for directions—William nodded off several times, as did his twin, who fell asleep with his head in William’s lap.
This degree of physical comfort between identical twins, even those who have been raised apart, may seem surprising, but I have seen this kind of physical closeness before. In 2010, I met a twenty-year-old Asian American identical twin who had reunited with her South Korean sister for the first time, in Seoul, before boarding a train to Busan to visit their birth family. The American twin realized only later that the two had fallen asleep while leaning against each other and holding hands. She said she usually is standoffish about physical contact with others, but dozing off with her identical twin sister felt peaceful and familiar. And this was how it was for the Colombian twins—when Jorge’s head dropped into his brother’s lap, it was natural and effortless, comfortable and familiar. Their physical ease with each other may explain why the members of both identical reared-apart twin pairs share a bed when sleeping at each other’s homes, as do many identical twins raised together, even as adults, because it just feels right.
During their moments of wakefulness as we drove toward Vélez, I heard about William’s political ambitions to be elected to the city council and eventually become mayor of La Paz. He felt closely tied to the people of his town and wanted to improve their lives in any way he could. Amado, the former mayor, was his close friend and stoked the young man’s desire to be in public service. William was already bringing computers to the schoolchildren of his town through a program set up in the city, and he would eventually help with road construction that permitted easier access to the area. At the time he also thought a lot about getting a law degree, a credential that would boost his standing as a professional and give him greater understanding of the legal processes behind the projects he hoped to put in place.
Jorge is a strong advocate of his identical twin’s political goals and dreams but has none of his own, preferring to focus on his engineering career. But he has the makings of a politician: an outgoing personality, good public-speaking ability, considerable self-confidence, and readiness to provide assistance when it is needed. The twins’ similarities in this respect are not unusual because genes influence political participation, leadership skills, and helping behaviors.3 Both twins expressed the same tendencies, tailoring their behaviors to the circumstances of their particular environment.
I learned more about Jorge and William as we approached Vélez to visit the hospital where Carlos and Wilber were born. They have the same bump in the same spot on the bridge of their nose, and until they met, they were certain it had come from an early injury. These surprise revelations are the rare perks of being a reunited identical twin. The “Jim twins,” Jim Lewis and Jim Springer, the premier pair of the Minnesota study, were raised in different Ohio cities and met each other for the first time when they were thirty-nine. Both their adoptive families had been told that their child’s twin had died, but when one mother, Lucille Lewis, went to court to sign some adoption papers, the clerk blurted out that the other twin had also been named Jim. When her son turned five, she told him what she had learned, but he wasn’t psychologically ready to find his brother until he was nearly forty. Aside from their same names, nail-biting habits, light-blue Chevrolets, and interest in woodworking, both twins suffered from severe headaches, which they attributed to stressful events. But that was only partly true because their symptoms began when the twins were teenagers, and they described the pain in the same way, as a great blow to the neck. We now know that headaches have a partial genetic basis, making them likely in people susceptible to stress.4
On the way to Vélez I also learned that Jorge and William share some dietary preferences, such as a fondness for chicken, but they will eat only the drumstick. Maybe it is the flavor, the ease of holding it, or the shape that is similarly appealing to the twins, but they were too tired to explain this preference. While they slept, I took a closer look at their ears, confirming my first impression that both twins had ears that stand out from their heads at the same sharp angle. But no identical twins are exactly alike: Jorge wears eyeglasses and William does not. As I explained, some eye problems such as near-sightedness are partly genetic in origin but may also be linked to premature delivery and/or extensive schoolwork.5 Both twins were born somewhat early, but one stayed in school and the other left school at age eleven to work on his family’s farm, lifestyle differences that could explain their vision differences. Even so, the behavioral and physical matches outnumbered the misses, no doubt why these twins were quick to call each other brother while sticking to a first-name basis with their accidental ones.
* * *
At 6:00 a.m. we approached our first scheduled stop, the Hospital Regional de Vélez, the public facility where Carlos and Wilber had been born. The conversation turned to the circumstances of their birth and delivery, with William certain that the switch had happened soon after Carlos had arrived in Bogotá, given the chaotic conditions in the preemie nursery. Jorge recalled his mother’s saying how much he and Carlos looked alike as babies, as some premature babies do, and he showed me a photograph to prove it. The photo showed the twins when they were extremely young infants, and they did look somewhat the same, although not all premature babies do; it depends partly at what point in the pregnancy they are delivered. Babies born at thirty-five weeks, like Jorge and William, look like small full-term infants, whereas babies born at twenty-eight weeks, like Carlos and Wilber, are small and skinny with translucent skin.6 Photos taken during their first weeks and months show that Jorge and Carlos, the accidental Bogotá
brothers, quickly diverged in size, coloring, and facial appearance. And before she delivered, Luz had been told to expect identical twins, so perhaps she was unconsciously trying to match her perceptions to her doctor’s diagnosis.
Hospital Regional de Vélez
The tiny hospital, dedicated to providing quality health care to local residents, looked like a collection of different-sized shoeboxes placed alongside one another. The building and its surroundings were a bit eerie, not just because it was still somewhat dark, but because this was where the twins’ strange saga began. We entered through a door marked URGENCIAS (Emergencies), and hospital staff escorted us through white, dimly lit corridors to the Unidad Neonatal (Neonatal Unit).
As we peered through the glass partition, we saw an empty space with only an incubator and two baby cradles placed side by side, perhaps where Carlos and Wilber had spent their first few hours together. This was also Carlos’s first visit to the place of his birth and William’s first visit to the hospital where, until six months before, he believed he’d been born. Séptimo Día had shown this unit in one of the televised segments, but seeing it in person was an emotional experience that many of us, most of all the two switched twins, were not prepared for. It was one of those “should have been, could have been” moments—if only the baby had not been so sick, or if only the family and hospital staff had paid closer attention to the appearance of the newborn who left and the one who returned. Imagining the events that took place in that nursery twenty-six years earlier was painful, but hard to resist.
In one rare moment the two switched twins stood together just beyond the entrance to the nursery, and I observed them closely. Seeing William and Carlos so close to one another was unusual because an obvious uneasiness lingered between them at that time, born of their uncommon connection. Their ambivalence was grounded in the knowledge that, while neither could be blamed for the switch, each embodied a life and a lifestyle that belonged to the other one, and their presence was a forceful reminder of that. William hungered for the opportunities that Carlos had had instead, and Carlos could not contain his impatience with William for not climbing the professional ladder. They eventually would resolve this tension, but it colored their relationship in the early months.
More what-if questions probably raced through everyone’s mind: What if the small hospital had been better equipped to handle tiny babies? What if the twins’ grandmother had stayed with the baby in Bogotá? What if the twins’ aunt Edelmira, who had brought William back to La Paz, had had more discerning eyes? Their aunt answered a lot of questions over breakfast at a family-run restaurant in the center of La Paz, called El Campesino (The Country Man). It is a popular place, with long wooden tables and benches, perhaps because the surrounding area has few restaurants. The server brought us a typical Colombian morning meal of caldo de costilla (beef broth) and bread, and we ate dinner there later before heading back to Bogotá.
Aunt Edelmira
“The baby had a digestive problem, which is why his grandmother brought him to Bogotá,” Edelmira told us. “He couldn’t defecate or urinate. His mother never saw him until he came home, because she was recovering from a caesarean-section delivery.… When I brought him back to La Paz, he was well wrapped and I was told not to unwrap him until we arrived and his mother could feed him.”
These recollections of visiting her newborn nephew in the hospital in Bogotá only add to the mystery of how one twin was switched for another. Edelmira claims to have seen the same baby, in the same crib, every day for the seven days he stayed there. When she first saw him, she had the presence of mind to ask the nurse if this was “Ana Delina’s baby,” and the nurse said it was and that the infant had a problem urinating. Upon hearing those words, she was satisfied that this newborn was truly her nephew. “I fixed my eyes on him, only it was the wrong baby.”
In those days newborns at the Hospital Materno Infantil were identified with a handwritten tape placed around their wrist. One day Edelmira noticed that the baby’s wristband was missing. After she called attention to this important detail, a nurse told her that the infant had probably “moved around,” causing it to fall off. When Edelmira returned the next day, she saw that the baby’s wristband had been reattached; when she checked it, she saw that it matched the one she had seen two days before. There was no cause for concern, but when she was ready to take the baby home, a problem arose. Because the last name on her identification card didn’t match the last name of the baby, the hospital refused to release him. It took the persuasive powers of a nearby relative to convince the staff that Edelmira was the baby’s aunt and that his parents had asked her to bring him home. “I received medication and instructions from the doctor for how to care for him, but maybe they were the wrong instructions because now he was anemic and it seemed strange,” Edelmira said. “By the time I got the baby, the doctor didn’t notice that there had been a switch.” No one did, and to this day no one knows what really happened, and it is likely that no one ever will. Even if the nurse in charge were found, her memory of the premature babies she cared for twenty-six years before would be dim, like the recollections of the nurse who was interviewed for the TV program.
William’s belief that the twin exchange happened early is probably correct because Edelmira had supposedly memorized the baby’s face and wristband data early on. But because premature newborns sometimes look alike, perhaps Edelmira didn’t notice the switch, or maybe the right wristband was always on the wrong baby. Aside from a lawsuit pending against the hospital, none of this matters now because the clock cannot be rewound. Everyone accepts that, but knowing what happened could replace futile speculation with some peace of mind.
Vélez to La Paz
When we left the restaurant, we found a lot of activity outside. It was late Sunday morning and most people were off from work, so some had come to sit outside and enjoy the warm weather and a cup of coffee or bowl of caldo de costilla with friends. Two men in worn jeans, cowboy hats, and high boots were lounging on a bench, and a woman in a bright blue dress, dangling earrings, long necklace, and tightly pulled-back hair was walking by. We could only smile and wave at one another because we didn’t speak a common language. Everyone looked older than their years.
William and Wilber’s relatives had put together a caravan of several four-wheel-drive vehicles to take us to meet some of the brothers’ other family members. They insisted that we put on knee-high rubber boots for the walk from La Paz to their home because the path was muddy and we needed protection. I pointed to the ankle-high designer boots I was wearing, but they were adamant that I exchange them for a pair of tall black rubber ones with no heel or insole support to accommodate the aftermath of a stress fracture in my right foot and the slight weakness in my right knee. But sometimes you have to go with the flow, and this was one of those times. It was vital to experience La Paz and its surroundings as William and Wilber had.
The drive from Vélez to La Paz took an hour, and it was rough going as we crossed rocky creeks and traversed steep hills and narrow slopes. The shock absorbers in the car had died long before. Suddenly we came to an area with several homes, buildings, a school, and a few motorbikes on uneven, untended land littered with small stones. The one-story homes, some painted bright green, others a dull tan, were low to the ground and had metal roofs, so they looked more like rustic cabins than permanent residences. The families living there, including many of William and Wilber’s relatives, came out to greet us and offer cold drinks. The school, a single-story building with a weathered recreational area, was visible in the distance and looked a lot like the one the brothers had attended.
A young man in the group closely resembled the reared-apart twins Jorge and William, so much so that he could have been their cousin or even their brother. But the relatives we were meeting were biologically related to Wilber, not William, and we eventually learned that this young man was a family friend with no genetic tie. Nearly 80 percent of Colombia’s forty-five million people
are of mixed race, the result of Spanish colonialization and slavery; its population is 58 percent mestizos (mix of native American Indians and Spanish Europeans), 20 percent pure European descendants, 14 percent black mixed with white Europeans, 4 percent Afro-Colombians, 3 percent Zambos (Africans mixed with Amerindians), and 1 percent indigenous people.7 Finding look-alikes in countries with great ethnic diversity may not be surprising in isolated areas like La Paz, because the same families have lived there for years with little settlement of new people. Because the same genes have been around for a while, and because multiple marriages between families take place, some look-alike children could result. In fact, one of Ana Delina’s brothers had married one of her husband’s sisters, turning the children of the two couples into double first cousins who share on average 25 percent of their genes, twice as many as ordinary first cousins.
Of course, the doppelgänger we encountered was not related to William or to Jorge, reminding me that some traits in unrelated people can match if those traits are affected by different genes, which are known as genocopies. The presence of such traits in nonkin individuals is tantamount to reaching the same destination by taking a different route. For example, elliptocytosis, a blood disorder associated with abnormally shaped red blood cells and anemia, has two underlying causes, one that is linked to the Rh blood group and one that is not. Down syndrome, a condition marked by short stature, intellectual difficulties, and developmental delays, can be caused by the inheritance of an extra twenty-first chromosome that fails to separate from the others as the egg or sperm matures, or it can result from the inheritance of a translocation from a parent whose twenty-first chromosome has another chromosome attached.8 Researchers have identified some clinical differences between the two types.9 Different gene combinations giving rise to the same facial contour, ear shape, and skin tone could explain why the young man from La Paz looked so much like William and Jorge. Their similarity was especially remarkable given the circumstances: physical resemblance was responsible for realigning the right twin pairs.
Accidental Brothers Page 21