Moonlight Lease

The humidity in Lagos wrapped around me like extra skin, a heavy, unwanted coat making the frustration inside me grow. My studio, which is often a place where I get inspired, seemed more like a grave for my creativity today. Paper was scattered all over the ground, showing many failed attempts at design. The empty painting space on my stand looked at me as if it were laughing, making me think of the important art centre work that felt like a dark cloud above me. "Moonlight Glow," this client with much pride named it. Chief Olumide, a person known for both his great riches and old-fashioned style, imagined an overly decorative neoclassical building that would not blend well with Lagos's lively character. But anyway, who was I to disagree with a man who had the power to either advance or ruin my career? I made a sound of discomfort and leaned back into my chair, which creaked as if it was complaining. My eyes moved to the window where I could see Lagos with all its busy scenes like an orchestra with much activity. Down there, the Marina was full of busy movements. Yellow danfos, those shaky buses which are very important for the city's transport, moved in and out between many cars that were honking loudly in a rush. Street sellers moved between the crowds, their song-like shouts mixing with the beat of Afrobeat music coming from a close stall. The atmosphere was filled with an excitement that made one feel both thrilled and tired. "Eki omo," a voice rough from speaking came at the door. Iya Wura, who is my neighbour of eighty years more and says she watches over me like a guardian angel, was standing with the light of afternoon sun behind her, her face full of old lines showing worry. She tilted her head, wearing a colourful headgear, and looked over the chaos in my studio. "It looks like the spirits are not at peace today, child." I am more than just restless, I breathed out and showed them the chaos. This project, Moonlight Glow, is like it takes away all my creative energy. Chief Olumide desires a flashy palace rather than a cultural hub that mirrors the essence of Lagos. Iya Wura moved nearer and put her old hands on my desk. I could smell the shea butter and a light plant-like fragrance coming from her. Patience, Eki omo. Big achievements need time and sometimes a small push from our ancestors. She looked closely at my thrown-away drawing, a worried line forming on her forehead. "You are following the incorrect inspiration, young one." You are looking for inspiration in the cold stones and glass, but Lagos's heart pulses with a different beat. Intrigued, I leaned forward. "What do you mean?" A cunning smile appeared on Iya Wura's face. "Do you not remember the tales I once told you? The tales of the Orishas, the powerful spirits that weave through our lives?" A feeling of longing for the past came upon me. The tales Iya Wura told were a steady source of solace in my young years, filled with colourful gods and legendary beings living alongside regular existence. As I pursued my goal to be a successful architect, those stories slowly disappeared from my focus. "The Orishas..." I whispered to myself, the idea lighting a small spark in my mind's edge. Each Orisha carries a unique force, shaping our world," Iya Wura went on. "Maybe, if you look for their direction... Her voice got lost because my phone was making a loud noise. When I looked at the screen, it showed that Ayo, who is my closest friend, was trying to call me. I let out a breath slowly and said sorry to Iya Wura, telling her we would talk more next time. "Girl, what's the hold-up?" Ayo's voice crackled through the receiver. "The gang's waiting for you at Terra Kulture. We're celebrating Tunde's latest exhibition, remember?" Tunde, who was my romantic partner during my university days and is now a famous photographer, had an exhibition starting for his new set of photos about the strong spirit of street sellers in Lagos. For a short moment, I remembered how he smiled very charmingly and laughed in such a way that spread joy to others; this memory made me forget the annoyance I was feeling before. "I am nearly there," I whispered to myself, taking my handbag. Perhaps one evening without the pressure of time limits and Mr. Olumide's loud ideas would not be bad. The bar inside Terra Kulture was alive with a dynamic blend of Lagos' top artistic people. There, painters, music creators and known figures in society were interacting, their talking sounds growing louder against the live band's playing rhythm. I saw Ayo sitting at a table in the corner, her unique afro puff moving while she was laughing with some people and Tunde was also there. I felt a surge of jealousy inside me. Tunde appeared more handsome than normal, his eyes making little lines when he talked. When I saw him after so much time, all the memories of our intense yet failed relationship returned. We were young and full of ideals back then, chasing what we wanted in life, but sometimes life takes you on different paths. I pushed the memories that were both sweet and sad to the back of my mind, put on a smile, and made my way through the many people. "Eki! Girl, where have you been hiding?" Ayo cried out and hugged me tightly. Her jasmine perfume mixed with the sharp smell of palm wine around us. She presented me to the group, consisting of both artists and reporters who seemed somewhat familiar. The discussion was smooth, marked by frequent laughter and eager talk on Tunde's most recent creation. The pictures on the walls showed so strongly what it's like to be human. You could see faces with marks from many days, hands rough because of a lot of work over time, and eyes shining bright with hope that doesn't stop – these photos took in the true feeling of Lagos' busy life and deep soul better than any drawing of buildings can do. During the evening, as we drank more palm wine, I noticed that I was moving closer to Tunde. He welcomed me with a kind smile and there seemed to be a deeper meaning in his gaze. "You look amazing, Eki," he whispered with a deep voice. "You continue to chase the dream to be Lagos' top architect?" I laughed a little, remembering the name he used for me when we were at university and feeling much fondness. "Yes, something similar to that." Although right now, I'm facing a major creative block with a ridiculously demanding client." He paid close attention when I talked about the Moonlight Glow project, his face getting more serious. "Perhaps the solution is not in complicated building designs," he proposed, moving around the yellow drink in his glass. Lagos's spirit is in its tales, the individuals, and how strong they stand. Did you think to put that heart into your design? His words touched something inside me deeply. The mysterious counsel from Iya Wura about the Orishas was reverberating in my thoughts, blending with what Tunde had noticed. Perhaps the secret to freeing my creative spirit didn't lie in lifeless blueprints but within the colourful canvas of Lagos. Abruptly, a strong pull on my arm interrupted my deep thoughts. Dapo Olumide, the proud son of Chief Olumide, was standing next to me with a frown fixed on his face. "Eki," he drawled, his voice laced with disapproval. "There you are. I search all the places for you. He looks at Tunde with not-friendly eyes under his fancy clothes. "Dapo," I stammered, surprised. "What are you doing here?" It seems you are doing the same as me, he replied with a stern look. Attempting to make a good impression on important individuals. My face felt hot. "It is not about that," I replied with a defensive tone starting to enter my voice. "This is my friend's exhibition." "Well, our business can't wait," he declared, his hand tightening around my arm. My heart was beating hard against my chest, caught between a controlling client and a history I was uncertain about returning to. Ayo and Tunde looked on with worry showing clearly on their faces. "Dapo," I hissed, trying to pull free. "Let go of me. We can talk tomorrow." "No possibility," he replied with a quiet and pressing tone. "You must look at something, it could make you think differently about the Moonlight Glow project." Before I got the chance to object more, he quickly took me out of the bar. The loud music and people talking became quiet in the warm night air of Lagos. While we moved fast on a street with not much light, what Dapo said that was hard to understand pressed down on me heavily like a cloak making it hard for me to breathe. What might he have to present that could change my whole plan for the project? And even more crucial, was I ready to deal with what would come if I chose to go after him into something I do not know?