You have got to feel for Prince Harry. This time last year, he was literally the golden haired boy. He was a royal among royals: the quintessential upper crust.

Ex-Governor Ayo Fayose could be excused if all he did was seek medical help from nature. There are many in the medical world who believe in letting nature do its healing work first before syringes and pills take over. The first thing our elders used to do whenever they visited a sick person who was bedridden was to open the windows and draw the blinds to let fresh air and light flood the room. It was their way of letting nature in. A close friend once had a child who had a nasal issue. The elderly doctor the wife consulted advised her to take the child to the beach early in the morning for a month to let the salty air do the healing. If that didn’t happen, then he would prescribe drugs. And in years past, luxurious sea travel used to be specially recommended for the rich who needed to recuperate. Exercises are also a good form of the healing process. And exercises come in different ways—from dancing to walking to aerobics to sports. Fayose obviously prefers dancing—and who would blame him especially if the instructor or dancing partner is a beautiful damsel.

By Muyiwa Adetiba Simon Kolawole, the former Editor of This Day Newspaper and founder of a fast growing online newspaper, is ‘a beloved son in whom I am well pleased.’ I try to read his column as often as I can, and I am always impressed by his clarity of thought as well as his […]

The year 2019 and its baggage, came to a final, inexorable end this week. It was without a whimper. In fact, it was so seamless that one had to make an effort to notice its passage and an even greater effort to stop whatever one was doing in acknowledgement. Yet, with it came the end of a decade—some would say a momentous one—to make it two decades after the much hyped millennium.

I woke up late morning to a darkened room and looked out to see heavy clouds. I had started my morning devotion when the elements opened up. Thankfully not in torrents but in drizzles. It was one of those days you wished you could stay in bed and curl up with a good book. But it was a day I needed to venture out and rain would be a dampener.

A man who has lived the greater part of his life in opulence having made money early in life and the latter years in superlative opulence—according to the picture of one of his homes that went viral—having allegedly appropriated the commonwealth of his people, recently changed his address, albeit unwillingly, to a much poorer abode.

In any case, Tunde Fowler is gone. He has been replaced by a man of lesser visibility if not pedigree. The same day, Muiz Banire, the Chairman of AMCON was removed. Some will say rather unceremoniously. Some will say it was in line with the provision of the institution. Both are Yoruba men. Both were replaced with Northerners. Ordinarily, it shouldn’t matter where a replacement comes from as long as a better man gets the job.

It was palpable; this air of expectancy. I felt it as soon as I drove into Police College Ikeja, for the second of my twice weekly exercise. I felt it in the banners that were conspicuously placed in strategic places; I felt it in the white chairs and the huge tents that took over the playing fields; I felt it in the huge loudspeakers that faced outwards rather than inwards; I felt it in the kiosks that were already bursting with activities; I felt it in the excitement of the young men and women as they trickled in with tracts in their hands; I felt it and I sighed. It is that time of the year again. What I had just seen were the trappings of another end-of-the-year vigil.

I cringed when I read the word ‘reckless’ in the comment attributed to President Buhari at his party’s NEC meeting. It was allegedly said when he was trying to disabuse the minds of Nigerians through the party executives, on a possible Third Term Agenda. He had used age and the constitution as his defence.

My phone ‘died’ on me for nearly two weeks last month. It was an unnerving experience. Unnerving because I didn’t realise how dependent I am – we all are – on that little flat gadget we can’t seem to let out of our sight for a second. It is, for many, more faithful than a dog, more intimate than a lover and more efficient than a secretary. Unfortunately, it could also be more addictive than cocaine. It is the ultimate alter ego. Embedded in those tiny chips is the entire life of their users including secrets they would not want even their best friends to know. Phones come in various shapes and sizes. But whatever the shape or sophistication, the aim is the same; to take over the life of their owners. And we willingly let them. To the extent that all you need is a day with someone’s phone and you would be able to profile the person accurately enough to live in that person’s world comfortably.

My phone ‘died’ on me for nearly two weeks last month. It was an unnerving experience. Unnerving because I didn’t realise how dependent I am – we all are – on that little flat gadget we can’t seem to let out of our sight for a second.

Back in the days when we were blissfully unaware of the enormity of our actions, we used to buy drinks for our regular weekend parties from Badagry and Cotonou. Occasionally, we bought fruits or whatever tickled our fancy.

As at today, in the year of our Lord two thousand and nineteen, I am, according to one gentleman, a lie. He claims that the identity I have, which my father and grandfather had, and which I have passed on to my children, is fake.

I sat up until 2am last Monday to watch Tiger Woods make history in Japan. He did it by winning his 82nd PGA title. In doing so, he tied the 53 year old record of Sam Snead, one of the legends of the golfing world. He did it ten years younger. Sam made the record at 53. Tiger is 43. He did it after multiple injuries and a personal misadventure which laid him off golf for at least five years. He did it in grand style with a three stroke lead over Matsuyama, the Japanese runner-up who was desperately trying to win the debut tournament at his home base.

Omoyele Sowore, an online Publisher and activist, got a reprieve of sorts during the week. His new bail conditions are less herculean than the earlier one and means he can hopefully get some of his freedom back soon. Those who have never had their freedom denied them might not know what this means. I do. It goes with the territory of my job. Next to the air we breathe, personal freedom is one of the many things we take for granted. That is why the judiciary, that third estate of the realm, is so important. It needs to be unfettered so it can unfetter the rest of us. That is why I empathise with anybody who is in confinement because he has not had his day in court. That is why I tend to defend anybody who is still being held after a court of the land has granted him bail. Like Sowore. Like Dansuki who is spending at least three post bail years in confinement. Power is transient and those holding people like Dansuki in spite of their being granted bail must realise that ultimate power belongs to God. Unfortunately, the granting of bail in many political cases means the end of the matter. It shouldn’t be. The case should still run its legal course.