You just moved to a new town. You want to watch a football match, you ask about a viewing centre, he takes you to the guest house, he is a Barca fan and together you enjoy the game. To him you are just a person who loves the game, not a girl whose future husband will enjoy because she watches ball.

You are in the common room. Housemates are talking about love, about how women love less than men. You don’t have the strength for this, they will never get it. Love is only sexual and romantic to them. They do not think of the women who stay with cheating husbands, who stick with irresponsible husbands, for the love of their child. You seek him out, he is watching Family Guy. You lie next to him. He introduces you to Alessia Cara.

You are in your room with your roommate’s friends talking about marriage. They fancy the title Mrs, you do not, so you keep your mouth shut, you know their ideology is different from yours. You just want a connection, someone that gets you. He shows you some card tricks, you are intrigued. You talk all night, it is easy. You feel you can be yourself with him.

Your housemates are talking about tribe, what this tribe does, what is bad about this tribe, what they like about that tribe. Yoruba jazz, Ebira jazz, Hausa jazz. You do not see tribe, you see people. On tribe, you agree.

But the world is a place where dissimilarities stand out. He believes in the trinity, in God manifested into three, you do not. So on Jesus, you disagree.

When you heard about the Southern Kaduna killings, and you saw the horrid pictures of slaughtered and burnt people. You wept in his arm, and he held you in his warm embrace and comforted you. This was blamed on a religion, your religion and you wonder how anyone could ever put this on God. And he understood, because on God, you agree.

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