It was a fine Tuesday morning in March. Few minutes past ten. The tropical sun accentuated a true meaning of the humid climate that morning. It was a more painful and stressful rush hour because the Ho town roads had not yet been asphalted and the Central Market Road had yet not been designated to one-way traffic. It was a market day: every taxi driver’s payday. Agbeko was elated and in high spirits because he, after months of sitting at the lorry station, had thrust himself on favour to be a spare driver that day: the last market day of the…