‘Young sir, may I help with your bags?’ a man half Julius’s height asked.

‘I have a good Toyota,’ a competitor blurted. ‘Local driver. Back streets, no traffic!’

Julius glanced about warily as the conductor walked around the roof, unhooking a rope net and passing down cases.

Accepting smart Samsonite bags with airline tags sent wannabe porters and taxi drivers into a frenzy. Julius doubted himself as he batted a hand grabbing his case. How could he sort complex family problems when he didn’t have the street smarts to scuff up his luggage?

‘You need a hotel?’ a girl asked excitedly.

Julius baulked when he looked at her. Barely older than himself, she was all bones and sharp angles, with pop-out eyes and random tufts of hair. She matched all the symptoms of water poisoning, but the bags made him vulnerable, and if he gave the pitiful girl money he’d have beggars coming from every direction.

‘Julius, Julius!’ Remi Balogun hailed.

The greying journalist stopped dead, clutching his ribs as Julius took his final bag from the conductor.

‘I thought you’d forgotten,’ Julius said, sweeping his brow with relief.

‘I am so sorry,’ Remi said. ‘I was waiting in the wrong place. How were your flights?’

‘I survived,’ Julius said, one eye on the toilet block. ‘Can you watch my bags?’

After one of the best pees of Julius’s life, Remi took the smallest of the three cases and led the way through the bustle to a double-cab Isuzu pick-up.

‘New wheels,’ Julius noted, slamming the passenger door after they’d locked his bags in the back.

‘It belongs to TV Nederland,’ Remi explained.

‘How’s that working out?’ Julius asked, dust coming off the tyres as they rolled out of a dirt lot at the rear of the transit park.

Remi didn’t answer until he’d rolled down his window and paid four hundred naira to a Transport Union flunkey.

‘I’m a dog chasing my own tail,’ Remi said. ‘My heart wants to fight corruption here in Akure. My head says stick with the salary, car and expense account.’

Julius looked curious. ‘If you had money, would you campaign full-time?’

‘If!’ Remi said sharply. ‘You can only make money in Ondo State by being corrupt. So who funds the man who fights corruption?’

‘I’m so sorry about what happened,’ Julius said, after a pause.

‘You loved Duke as much as I did,’ Remi noted as they turned into clogged traffic.

‘It’s partly my fault,’ Julius said guiltily. ‘Collins took a special interest in Duke, because of me …’

Remi shook his head. ‘Duke might be alive if you hadn’t been his best friend. Duke might be alive if I’d sent him home to his mother, instead of bringing his mother to Akure. One thing you must learn is not to waste your life picking apart decisions you cannot change.’

‘I know,’ Julius said weakly.