Tenisola: When Love Defies

The weekend was my refuge a brief escape from the demanding grind of university life. Some friday evenings, I would join the sea of students and young professionals as they flocked to Lagos’ buzzing nightlife, hoping to lose myself in the rhythm of the city and forget the week’s stresses. I slipped into my bell-bottom jeans, a crisp button-up shirt, and platform shoes that added a little height to my otherwise average frame. My natural, nappy hair was styled into a perfectly rounded Afro. With a quick glance in the mirror and a swipe of red lipstick, I grabbed my bright red bag, ready to head out the door with a singular goal in mind: to catch the eye of a wealthy man, hopefully the son of one of Nigeria's prominent families. Just as I was about to leave, my friend Tayi burst into my room, her energy contagious. "This party is going to be amazing! I heard Mr. Adams will be there tonight. Maybe one of us could become his wife!" She adjusted her hair, giving me an approving look. "You look stunning, girl!" I smiled, dabbing a bit more lipstick. "Thanks!" We shared a quick hug before heading out of the hostel, eager to start our night. At the bus stop, anticipation buzzed in the air as we waited for a ride to Siklers, one of the most notorious hotspots for Lagos’ young crowd. After what felt like forever, a rickety bus finally pulled up. Its faded exterior was barely visible under the neon lights that flickered from its Afrobeat-spewing speakers. Inside, the bus was a chaotic mix of worn seats, rusty metal, and a thick haze of cigarette smoke. But none of that mattered. The night was young, and the excitement in the air drowned out any discomfort. The bus was packed, our fellow passengers just as eager to kick off their weekend. When we arrived at Siklers, a long line of partygoers waited to get in. The bouncer, a tall figure with a stern expression, eyed us up and down before nodding curtly. "Ladies free, guys pay fifty naira," he grumbled. Tayi turned to me, grinning. "Thank God we're not men. I wonder where we’d have gotten the money to pay!" I chuckled. "You’re right. I don’t even want to think about it." As we neared the entrance, Tayi rummaged through her bag. "What are you looking for?" I asked, amused. "My mirror," she replied, pulling out a compact. She studied her reflection for a moment, then touched up her lipstick. "I have to look perfect for Mr. Adams, my future husband." She batted her eyelashes. The moment we stepped inside the club, the infectious beats of Fela Kuti’s "Lady" swept over us. The dance floor was alive with color and movement, with people completely immersed in the rhythm. The air was thick with a blend of sweat, perfume, and cigarette smoke. The DJ, perched high in his booth, grinned as he spun the tracks, keeping the energy electric. Tayi and I threw ourselves into the crowd, our bodies moving instinctively to the Afrobeat rhythms. Every stomp of our feet matched the pulsing beat, and our laughter floated above the music, carefree and full of joy. As the song came to an end, the DJ seamlessly transitioned into "Zombie," and the crowd erupted into cheers. We kept dancing, our spirits soaring higher with each beat. I excused myself from Tayi, who was now dancing with a guy she’d just met, and made my way to the bar. I scanned the room, wondering if there was someone I could share a drink with. Moments later, a man approached. He wore a crisp white shirt with billowy sleeves, acid-washed jeans, and a sleek black leather jacket. His hair was slicked back, revealing sharp features and piercing eyes. He sat beside me, gesturing to the bartender. "What can I get you?" the bartender asked. "I’ll have a Johnny Walker Black Label, and what will this beautiful young lady have?" His voice was smooth, deep almost hypnotic. I glanced up at him, taking in his striking features. "I’ll have a bottle of Coca-Cola, please," I replied, trying to keep it casual. The bartender nodded, preparing our drinks. The man turned to me, his smile almost too charming. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and inviting. "Damilola," I replied, accepting my drink from the bartender. "Thanks for the drink." I took a sip, feeling the cool liquid glide down my throat. "Nice to meet you, Damilola," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "I’m Tenisola." I blinked, momentarily confused. "Tenisola?" The name sounded delicate, almost like a flower. "No, don’t get confused," she chuckled, clearly amused by my reaction. "My name’s Tenisola, and I’m very much a woman, despite what you might think." I blinked again, still processing. "A woman, where?" I asked, my mind racing. This was my first time encountering a woman dressed in traditionally masculine attire. "Yes, I’m a woman," she said, her deep voice offering an interesting contrast to her soft features. "Nice to meet you, Tenisola," I said, finally gathering my bearings and offering a polite smile, though I was still trying to understand the situation. Tenisola's grin widened, clearly enjoying my confusion. "Likewise," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "So, what do you do?" "I’m a student at the University of Lagos," I replied, trying to keep the conversation going. "And you?" "Same," she answered with a casual shrug. "Also a student." I finished my Coca-Cola and placed the empty bottle on the table, preparing to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Tenisola," I said, standing up. "Leaving already?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Yeah, I need to find my friend. We’re heading home," I explained, scanning the crowd for Tayi. Panic settled in as I searched frantically. Where was she? What if she’d left with the guy she was dancing with? The thought of being alone in a club filled with strangers made me uneasy. I stepped into the restroom, but the stench of urine and cigarette smoke almost made me turn back. I pushed forward, checking each stall, hoping to find Tayi. Suddenly, I heard faint moaning from one of the stalls. I rolled my eyes, thinking, In this filthy place, people still choose to get busy? I hesitated, then called out, "Tayi?" hoping it wasn’t her. "Yes, I’ll be out soon," she replied, her voice faint. Disappointment swelled in my chest. How low can she go? I thought, disgust creeping in. I stepped out, trying to shake off the anger as I made my way back to the club. Outside, I stood, chewing gum, hoping it would calm my nerves. Time seemed to drag on as I paced back and forth. Finally, Tayi emerged, adjusting her very short shirt. "Really, Tayi? How low can you go?" I snapped, pulling her towards the bus stop. "How much did the guy even give you? Was that Mr. Adams you were hoping to meet?" I asked, frustration bubbling over. "Relax," she laughed, unfazed. "He’s not Mr. Adams. He gave me just 20 kobo," she said, showing me the crumpled coin. "But it’ll help with our transport home." I could hardly believe it. "And you're okay with that?" I asked, still angry. "Hey, at least it’ll get us home," she said, leaning in for a hug. "Don’t touch me," I grumbled, stepping back, but she pulled me in anyway. Eventually, I relented, and we both burst into laughter. The absurdity of the night, despite everything, eased my frustration. "Why is it taking this bus so long to arrive?" Tayi asked, rubbing her hands together to keep warm against the night’s chill. "I wonder, too," I muttered. After what felt like an eternity, a bus finally pulled up. We climbed aboard, ready to head home, the night’s events lingering in our minds, but we both knew we would laugh about it tomorrow.