‘Maia, this is Ramon. He’s been a resident of the favela since the day he was born, but now he works for the government as a’ – Floriano stared at his friend for inspiration – ‘a peacemaker.’

The man’s white teeth flashed as his lips parted and he threw his head back with laughter. ‘My friend,’ he said in a deep, rich voice, ‘you are definitely a novelist. Senhorita,’ he continued, extending his hand to me, ‘it is a pleasure to meet you.’

During the following two hours, as we walked around the favela, stopping to eat and drink beer at a ramshackle café that some entrepreneurial resident had set up in the tiny space they owned, I learnt a lot about favela life.

‘Of course, there is still crime and poverty in the streets of every favela in Rio,’ Ramon explained to me. ‘And there are some places even I would not dare to venture near, especially at night. But I have to believe that things are improving, admittedly far more slowly than they should. And as everyone now has the opportunity to gain an education, and with it a sense of self-worth, I hope my grandchildren will experience a better childhood than I had.’

‘How did you two meet?’ I asked as I baked in the stifling heat.

‘Ramon won a scholarship to my university,’ Floriano explained. ‘He was majoring in social science, but he nodded his head in the direction of history too. He’s far cleverer than I am. I keep telling him he should write a book about his life.’

‘You know as well as I do that no one would publish it here in Brazil,’ said Ramon, suddenly serious. ‘But perhaps one day, when I’m old and the political situation is different, I will. Now, I’m taking you to see my favourite project.’

As we followed Ramon along the maze of alleyways, Floriano explained quietly that Ramon’s mother had been forced into prostitution by his father, who’d been a known drug baron and was now serving a life sentence for a double murder.

‘Ramon had six little brothers and sisters to bring up alone when his mother died of a heroin overdose. He’s an amazing man. The kind who makes you feel hopeful about human nature,’ he mused. ‘He works ceaselessly to lobby on behalf of the residents for some form of basic healthcare and better facilities for the children here. He’s dedicated his life to the favelas,’ Floriano added as he took my arm to guide me down the uneven stone steps.

From far below I could hear the sound of the drums getting louder, pulsating through my body as we continued to descend the steps. I watched the way Ramon was greeted with respect and affection from every narrow doorway by the residents, and by the time we reached the bottom and he led us through a wooden door surrounded by high walls, my own respect for him had multiplied. I thought how he’d turned round his own life using his own dreadful circumstances to improve those of others, and felt humbled by his dedication and strength of character.