To much of the world, the Nigerian city of Maiduguri is simply known as the birthplace of Boko Haram, the extremist group that kills with abandon and treats women and girls like property, forcing them to cook, clean, bear children and die on command.

Ever since the authorities killed the group’s spiritual leader and flattened its compound here almost a decade ago, Boko Haram has lashed the city, storming it with its fighters, bombing markets, flooding the streets with homeless families escaping its rage and attacking the university at least eight times this year alone, inspired by its rallying cry, “Western education is forbidden.”

But there is another Maiduguri entirely, one that helps shed light on the ideological battle at play in Nigeria’s north: This is a regional capital recognized for welcoming people of all religions and ethnicities, a college town long known for its party scene and a vibrant city with a bold, often broad-minded youth culture that eight years of war cannot seem to extinguish.

In fact, sometimes the war even helps nudge it along.

It wasn’t even 8 p.m. on a weeknight and the twerking had already begun. The D.J. was spinning Afrobeats. Bodies pressed together in dark corners. And then, just as the party started heating up, the gates of the hotel abruptly swung shut, sealing everyone inside.

The all-night party had officially started.

In a different war zone, a curfew like the one that descends on this city each night to protect residents from Boko Haram might stifle any hope of a social life. But here, it has given rise to extended lock-in parties behind protected walls. Instead of going home, young people end up carousing until the curfew lifts at dawn.