Authors: Eric Jerome Dickey
Indigo headed toward Hollywood Hills. The prominent area where Indigo white-lined traffic and sped to on her CBR was known as Mount Olympus. It was higher than the stench from the homeless encampments that had spread all over L.A. Indigo had finished her classes at university and zoomed to an exclusive area developed between Hollywood Boulevard, Laurel Canyon Boulevard, Willow Glen Road, and Nichols Canyon Road.
She was headed to her parents' home to video-chat with her relatives in Nigeria, the ones who didn't care about the eight-hour time difference. It would be late there, but only early afternoon in Los Angeles.
Indigo's parents owned a three-million-dollar estate, which they had moved to when Indigo was sixteen, after living in Hancock Park. It was a property that had an unrestricted view of hills and mountains. It was a magnificent home of marble and glass located on Mannix Drive, a narrow snaking road in the hills, away from high traffic, in an area of people unknown to the public, but more powerful than the A-list celebrities on the silver screen. Inside, ceremonial Igbo pots, royal Bini masks, and a picture of President Obama, former president Goodluck Jonathan, Indigo, her parents, and Michelle Obama were on display next to novels by Nigerian writers Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Femi Osofisan, Ben Okri, and Folasade Coker.
There was enough to show they were proud of their homeland, enough to let their Nigerian friends know where their hearts lived, but not enough to scare their American friends.
The formal kitchen table was filled with newspapers:
Daily Nigerian,
Nigerian Inquirer,
and
Nigerian Tribune.
Dressed in colorful sports attire from Lululemon, Indigo's mother asked Indigo to find a short video for them to watch before the call.
Her mother asked, “What are the titles of the latest Nollywood movies on YouTube?”
Indigo coughed, then motioned at the MacBook. “Trust me, you don't want to know. There are a lot of wonderful Nollywood movies, but these free ones are not what you want. Maybe we should just watch an old episode of
Meet the Adebanjos
.”
“I am really curious. What are the titles of what is being offered to the world for free?”
“The first ones that came up are
Cyber Sex 2
,
Holy Lesbians
,
Pastor Got Me Pregnant
.”
Her mother frowned, rolled her eyes, and then hissed.
“Blasphemy.”
Indigo continued,
“The Mistress,
Rich Spoilt Lesbian,
and
Lesbian Fantasies.”
“These actors should be incarcerated. This puts those ideas in people's head. Would you have looked in the sky and thought of jumping from a mile up if you had never seen someone jump out of a plane? All involved should be marched through Lagos naked. You should not ever start watching this sort of thing. You should never allow these things to poison your mind.”
“Mother, calm down. They are only movies.”
“And to make it worse, those movie titles are abominable. Who would call a movie those titles? They sound like the disgusting and disrespectful too-too book titles I saw when I stumbled across the
African
American section of a bookstore when we were in Chicago for a conference, and that was the last time I made that mistake.”
“Mom. Calm down.”
“There are no gay people allowed in Nigeria and there should not be any gay movies. Just the idea of wanting to film such a thing is an abomination. Chinelo Okparanta has written what she wants to write, but President Goodluck Jonathan has spoken.”
“Muhammadu Buhari is the new president.”
“Still, I agree with former president Goodluck. I listen to him, not
to a book that should be burned. If I could send Boko after those abominations, I would. That's how strongly I feel.”
“I know the law in Nigeria, Mother. It is a life-or-death matter. I know. But Chinelo Okparanta's book is dope. It's a great novel. We need to understand what's going on. I read that and Chigozie Obioma's
The Fishermen
after my birthday, when I finally had a break.”
“I need you to understand traditional Nigerian ways, not the vile ways of the West. We live in the West, but we are not servants of the West. We understand their ideologies, but we will not embrace them; we will not be indoctrinated and become their servants, like other blacks here who spend day and night trying to impress the designers and maintainers of Western philosophy.”
“I understand the difference. You have repeated your views like a national anthem.”
“Lilly Singh. Let's watch a few of her outlandish videos. The way she mocks her parents makes me laugh so hard. But if you ever make videos mocking me and your father in that way, I will beat you from here to Lagos and your father will beat you from Lagos back to this house.”
“You've never beat me and neither has my father.”
“I still have hands, so don't think I won't.”
After they had watched a few videos and laughed until their bellies hurt, to balance the comical with the serious, Chimamandanata put on her glasses, searched YouTube, and found a documentary on one of Nigeria's lost sons. The entertainer had Nigerian roots, but had never been to Nigeria, and was leaving America and discovering his fatherland for the first time.
Indigo's mother went on a rant, said that nothing about the young man was Nigerian.
She said, “This disconnect is what I did not want to happen to you, Indigo. I did not want you to become an adult like this young man and be a stranger in your homeland. To be a grown man and have no association to your true culture is offensive. And when you have children, you will make sure they know their heritage as well. They will know all of their kinsfolk.”
“I know. You have told me that a million times.”
“That boy goes to Nigeria, tattoos all over his precious body, dressed like he lives in the bush, horrible posture, and seems irate when people tell him so. I do not care how long the flight was, he should have exited the plane looking respectable, not like a thug walking through Walmart at two in the morning. Look at how he is dressed. He looks worse than the coconut vendors on Acapulco's beach. He dresses like a clown. Unprofessional. Man or woman, underwear should
never
be seen in public.”
“Mom, he's a hip-hop superstar.”
“Then he should be able to afford clothes that fit and a belt, or a pair of suspenders.”
“Showing your drawers is a fashion statement.”
“He just
dribbled
a soccer ball.”
“Yeah. That was blasphemy. I can't defend that. Not even going to try.”
“I have made sure you are not one of
them.
Too many leave as Africans, come to America, embrace negativity, then call themselves
niggas,
use that word as if it were the flag to their own narrow-minded country. They arrive and lose their cultural GPS, discard their self-esteem; they lose their pride.
Pride
. That is what I have given you from birth.”
“And I appreciate all you have done, every sacrifice you have ever made.”
“Inhale. What do you smell? You smell food. You smell me preparing dinner. I worked all morning, was in court, and since I have conquered the world, I am home early, and I am making dinner. And in the morning I will rise and make breakfast. Why? Because I am a good wife. A California wife will not go into the kitchen and prepare her husband's meal for him every day. She buys fast food, which is the same as poisoning her family, or she will call ahead and order, stop at some place and pick up prepared food. Or even worse, she will hire someone to cook her husband's meal, and if they have babies they will use that same woman to take care of their children while the wife runs away from her obligations to spend the day at yoga, and that is why their husbands will leave them for the woman their wives have hired to cook and take care of their child. What is her purpose if some other woman is in her home cooking, cleaning, and nurturing?”
“Mother, now you know we know many Nigerians who have maids, cooks, and nannies.”
“I never had a nanny and I have never allowed any woman to cook for my husband.”
“I know. You're amazing. You are a woman who goes after what she wants.”
“I am proactive and pursue what I deserve, not what I want. There is a difference, Indigo.”
“Back home, you left the boy you were seeing and stole my father from his girlfriend.”
“Ask any woman who thinks I am a fool. Ask your father how I am when riled.”
“Mother?”
“What is the question? That is the tone you have when you have a serious question.”
“This tone you have is unsettling. Has there been some issue with my father recently?”
“Nothing of any true concern. Your father is handsome and a man of means, so some foolish woman is always trying to test us, some
asewo
is always trying to test our marriage and commitment.”
“Did something else happen I am not aware of?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned with, my daughter.”
“Has it been confirmed?”
“I only have my suspicions.”
“Please elaborate.”
“He is working more, working late, and every so often he takes a last-minute business trip and goes away for a day, maybe two days.”
“He makes many business trips. A man in his position has to make many decisions.”
“But lately, I guess something has changed. He never gives me his itinerary, or the hotel information, only says to call him on his mobile. And if I call late, either there is no answer, or he answers and is curt, says he is tired and sleeping. Sometimes I call and there is no answer, but he will text me in return. As a wife, should I not know where my husband is at all times?”
“Since when?”
“Not too long. Only a few months.”
“Buy a new phone. Buy a phone like my father has and I will use a program that will create the same information on the new phone. I will tell him I need to use his phone, and I will go in the bathroom, and within ten minutes you will have a phone that has all of his contacts.”
“Is it possible to do such a thing?”
“Yes. I did it to Yaba and he never knew, and that was how I found out about the Ethiopian. I read their text messages. I read their emails. I saw truth beyond the lies. Your phone will receive all of my father's emails and calls. You will know everything he does, and he will not have a clue because my father is not tech savvy. If you suspect there is an issue, that's what I will do for you. And if you do not want the phone, I will do it anyway, and I will monitor him myself.”
“Indigo.”
“There is no other option. It is done. Consider it done.”
“Indigo.”
“What?”
“Do not take that tone with me.”
“Yes, my sweet mother. What is your question? I know your tone of inquisition as well.”
“Where is Olamilekan Babangida and why hasn't he come to state his intentions? Does your boyfriend think he is that special, or perhaps he thinks that since he plays American football he is better than other Africans? Wealth does not come before values, and never before God.”
Indigo hissed her disapproval of the recurring topic. “We're back to that. You would rather look out of the window at
my
life than look into the mirror and thoroughly examine your own.”
“You take precedence. You have always taken precedence in my life.”
“I know that. And you take precedence in mine as well, Mother.”
“Giving a man your body too soon only ensures a bad deal for a woman. When a man has had a woman there is no room for negotiations. When a man knows other men have had relations with a woman, there is no room for compromises. Having conjugal visits with a man as if he were your husband only ensures he will never feel the need to become your husband. Despite your intellect, despite your strength, despite your beauty, he will not see you as a wife.”
“Mother, times have changed. These are not the days of Jane Austen.”
“Jane Austen? Spoken like a child who grew up in the West.”
“Even in Nigeria times have changed.”
“Men never change, and
Olamilekan
is the issue. I did not like the way the boy touched you at your birthday party.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don't act like I am half blind and stupid. I remember all I see.”
“I am serious. What did I miss? Did he touch me in an inappropriate manner?”
“
Yes
. He touched your waist and his hand moved across your
bottom
. In front of your father and me, in front of your friends, in front of our friends, he lingered on your bottom.”
“His hand probably dropped from my waist and you assumed he was trying to grab my bottom. He would never do that. He's Americanized, but his core values are Nigerian.”
“He behaved so familiarly with you. Are you being intimate with him?”
“I am still a virgin. I will be purer than Caesar's wife until I am sold for a whale's tooth.”
“That is your answer?”
“And after I am married and have three children, it will still be my answer.”
“Were you intimate with Yaba?”
“Of course not. We held hands, but only when we crossed the street.”
“Your father liked him. Your father was impressed.”
“Enough with my personal life. You have suspicions regarding my father.”
“I do. But do not speak a word to your father. Let's not anger him.”
Indigo said, “I will buy a duplicate phone to track my father's messages and movements.”
“No, you will not. We will not disrespect him. I would hate it if he did that to me.”
“Fine. I will do nothing. I will be passive. Do not come to me crying the next time.”
“Do not have your father's ways, Indigo.”