The early afternoon sun beat down mercilessly over Tafawa Balewa Square, casting sharp shadows across the crowd that had gathered. Thousands had come out—men and women, young and old, traders from the bustling markets, journalists clutching their notepads, cameramen adjusting their lenses, and curious onlookers squeezed tightly together. The air was thick with anticipation, mingled with the faint scent of roasted corn and the distant roar of traffic weaving through the city.
At the far end of the square, a raised platform had been erected, draped in the green and white colors of Nigeria, festooned with Lagos State flags fluttering proudly in the breeze. Loudspeakers boomed, amplifying the quiet murmurs and the occasional burst of laughter from the crowd.
