Lagos Island, 1945
On a cool September morning in Idumagbo, a settlement near the wharf, at that time, there was no road linking Lagos Island to Ikorodu and everybody had to travel by water to get to Ikorodu. Ranti, a stout man in his early thirties, with tribal marks on both sides of his face carrying two heavy boxes as he walked side by side with his first wife, an ample looking woman was walking towards a ticket stand to buy tickets for the ferry going to Ebute Wharf, Ikorodu. At the stand, a man putting on a neatly ironed white polo shirt tucked in to a fading pair of black trousers, leaned forward to give what looked like a ticket to a commuter. The ticket seller was slim, six feet tall at least, dark skinned, had the most handsome pair of brown eyes with well-groomed hair and beards. As he got closer to the stand he saw that ticket seller happened to be his very good friend, Ajayi.

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