ToluOJ.com

It had been 10 years since the last Indigo meeting.

None of them could have imagined that the last time they met, sharing secrets and gossip in Omolola’s living room would be the final time. They had it so much easier back then – there were no prying eyes, and inquisitive minds butting into their affairs, they could go and come as they pleased, and they didn’t have to think too much about what steps to take. Nobody knew who they were, what they did, and even what they were capable of. And in a sleepy town like Abeokuta where there was not too much excitement, imaginations were limited by culture and exposure. Nobody would have believed that a group like Indigo existed.

Omolola was their leader. Being the first to discover their shared secret, she made it her mission to figure out how to manage it – how to cope with it in a society that would definitely not understand her and her friends. She documented all their discoveries, planned their adventures, and came up with escape routes for each mission in case something went wrong. She was a great leader – Indigo was able to operate undetected for several years because of her efforts. That is, until the ‘Great Fall’. That’s what they all called it back then. The day Indigo disbanded and were no more.

What you are currently reading, is a third person account of Indigo – how they came to be, their adventures, and why they eventually fell apart. Each member – there were five of them – vowed to never talk about their time as part of the group. But I am a writer. And there’s nothing sadder to me, than a story, especially one as fascinating as theirs, that goes untold. So, I made it my mission to tell their story. I don’t have permission from any of them – not even my older sister Omolola. So I know I’m going to face grave consequences. But I think its worth the risk. After all, how many times do you read about a group of young Nigerian women with superpowers?

Before Indigo

Omolola and I – my name is Modupeore, but my friends call me Modu – were born in Lagos. We lived there from when we were born, till she was 13 and I was 10, until we moved to Abeokuta to live with my grandaunt. You see, my parents moved to the United Kingdom to start a new life – Mummy was a nurse and got an opportunity to work in a retirement home in England. Our dad had a PhD in electrical engineering; he lectured at Yaba college of technology, but was always on the lookout for better opportunities – Yabatech didn’t pay that well.

When the retirement home opportunity came for my mum, Daddy started applying for research grants in the UK. Lucky for him, he was offered one by the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, and thus began the Lagos to UK relocation plans. Their intention was to go ahead of us, settle in, and then send for us as soon as possible. That didn’t happen. Without going into too many details, all I will say is that one of them cheated on the other (and its not who you think), they got divorced, married other people, and forgot about us. Bringing us over became a little complicated – who would we live with, how would they share custody etc. They decided it was best to leave us in Abeokuta and send money to my grandaunt to take care of us. If you’ve never been abandoned by your parents, you might not understand how I and Lola felt, but it was the worst feeling in the world. The only thing that made it better was my grandaunt – Mummy Olumo as we used to call her.

She was my paternal grandmother’s younger sister – an adire maker. She had never married, and never had kids, but she had a thriving business and was quite comfortable. She happily agreed to take us in temporarily, until our parents could send for us. When that plan fell through, she was more than happy to take us in permanently.

“LolaModu – a combination of our names that she loved to use when she was referring to both of us at the same time.

I know what has happened is not what you want. But a o le da Olorun lebi. We can’t blame God. Accept it as your destiny and do your best to enjoy your lives. Mo ma toju yin dada, pelu ogo Olorun. I’ll do my best to take care of you by the grace of God.”

Her words, as consoling as they were, didn’t do much for us, especially Omolola. She was older, so she felt the sting of the betrayal much more. By that time, Lola was 16; our situation, coupled with the typical teenage rebellion was a toxic combination. She became so angry – with my parents for abandoning us, with Mummy Olumo for not being able to do anything about it, and even with me, for just existing. She was horrible to be around. I did my best to avoid her, and Mummy Olumo tried her best to manage the situation.

This went on till Lola was 18. However, a few months after her 18^th birthday, Lola became a brand-new person. She was sweet, became very helpful around the house, spoke respectfully to Mummy Olumo and even started acting like a big sister to me. It came as quite a shock to Mummy and I, but we didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. We didn’t question it. I would later discover what led to this drastic change, and it was the biggest shock of my life.

Alhaji Minna

I’m confused about how to continue telling this story. On one hand, I want to tell it chronologically – I want you to know how Lola discovered she had super powers, and what she did next. But on the other hand, I will be completely honest by saying that I’m feeling a bit left out. I wasn’t a part of the group, but as its self-proclaimed historian and narrator, I want to insert myself into the story somehow.

I think I’ll start with how I, Modu, found out that Lola had superpowers.

When I was 16, and Lola was 19, we went to a conference with Mummy Olumo. It was a regional conference for textile manufacturers, organised by one of the big banks – I can’t remember which of them now. It was at a fancy hotel in Lagos, and she was given a nice big suite to stay in for the 3-day conference. She asked us to come with her, and we happily obliged. While Mummy participated in the conference activities, Lola and I kept ourselves busy. I was interested in the textile business, so I was excited about seeing the work of other textile merchants, and visiting their booths at the exhibition. Lola was more interested in boys and booze – making friends with some of the apprentices and assistants and drinking at the open bar.

While I was walking through the exhibition on the second day of the conference, I came across the most beautiful adire – it had unique jewel tones – emerald, sapphire, and gold, and it glowed in the dark! I had never seen anything like it, and I stared at it in awe.

“Would you like to buy this? Its our most popular fabric. We just restocked, but it will probably be sold out again in the next few hours”, Alhaji Minna asked me.

He was the owner of the company, and had been producing the glow in the dark adire from his factory in Minna for a few years. No one had been able to figure out how he got it to glow, so he dominated the market, and was making a fortune.

“I’m more interested in how you got it to glow. My family is also in the business but we haven’t been able to make anything as unique as this”, I said sheepishly.

“I admire your curiosity. I can’t show you exactly how we make it – trade secrets and all that – but I can give you a hint. You can come to our work station at the end of today’s activities and I’ll show you”.

I was so excited. I ran to let Lola know that I would be staying back after the conference was over that day, and hung around, waiting for 6pm. I found the workstation, expecting it to be bustling and busy but it was surprisingly quiet. Alhaji Minna was alone, folding some pieces of the glow in the dark fabric.

“I asked my apprentices to leave because they don’t know how I make the dye. I’m scared that one of them will sell me out to our competitors, so I mix the dye myself, and only let them dry and fold the fabrics. Come this way, let me show it to you.”

He brought out a white keg filled with dye, and I could see the liquid glittering through the keg. He poured a little of it in a bowl, and it looked amazing – Iridescent. I was so focused on the dye, that I didn’t notice that he was behind me, his head on my shoulder. I jumped immediately I felt his breath on my neck, and the man I could only describe as calm and peaceful before, transformed into a mean predator.

“We both know you don’t care about my fabric. I know how you young girls like to be coy about everything. So, I played along. But I know this is what you want. Let’s stop playing games”.

I had never been that confused in my life – it felt like whiplash. One minute I was admiring some dye, and the next I was being stalked like prey. I was frozen, I wasn’t sure what to say or do to get myself out of the situation. I tried to explain, that it wasn’t my intention, and I truly was interested in the fabric. I even apologized for misleading him. But all my pleading fell on deaf ears. He grabbed my dress at the shoulder and tore it down the middle.

I’m not sure if it was the sound of my dress ripping, or the feel of his clammy hands on my breast but I finally let out a scream. This made him angry, and he slapped me so hard that he knocked one of my teeth lose. I had just caught my breath to let out another scream, but he wasn’t there anymore. He had vanished right in front of my eyes!

I tried to run away but I was frozen, again, but for a different reason this time. My shoes, and the floor in front of me were covered in the most disgusting looking brown liquid. It was spreading further and further away and had a horrible smell. My brain refused to compute what I was looking at – it couldn’t be. I raised my head and saw Lola, staring daggers at where Alhaji Minna previously stood, her eyes a terrifying yellow colour.

Lola, my sister, had melted Alhaji Minna into a puddle of blood, skin and bones, with her eyes.

O ya mi l’enu.