I walked into Galileo lounge VIP at around 7:40 pm and headed straight to the VIP section. My colleagues from work were there already, standing in small groups mumbling. The red velvet couches and purple neon lights blended into a hue so royal I couldn’t help but rub my hands in ‘glamour’ as I walked in. I felt like all this was happening in slow motion. I felt like Dbanj. The music playing was slow, smooth, West African jazz; it sounded like Youssou N’dour. The air was cold. Filled with a concoction of different scents of fragrances. Mostly strong men’s cologne. I smiled at the scrawny waitress in a short skirt and bushy weave pointing at the crimson red couches for us to sit. She smiled back rather shyly, feigning some nondescript yet clearly non-existent innocence.

‘Opun di thaap’ (open the tap) shouted Semi at the club manager. Semi, pronounced…

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