The horse is a beautiful animal; sturdy and elegant. And when in full flight, a joy to watch. Little wonder that it is a favourite animal of royalty. Monarchies all over the world have formed a kinship with the horse and have created games and festivities round it.

WhatsApp is a wonderful creation. It profiles us in ways only the discerning can notice. They say the way we drive; the games we play and the way we play them reveal who we are in more ways than we care to admit.

I learnt a lesson about 40 years ago that has stayed with me since. It was during the anti-apartheid days. Nigeria had hosted a three or five day ‘World Action Against Apartheid Conference’ which I had covered as a reporter. Little naïve me was exasperated that there was too much rhetoric and very little ‘action’ at the conference.

The Supreme Court has been in the news lately; and for the wrong reasons. While we were still gabbling with the case of Imo State where a gold medal was given to a man who should not even be on the medal table according to INEC’s result of the State’s gubernatorial race that of Bayelsa State reared its head where a silver medallist was awarded a gold medal.

I had many things lined up for last Friday. I was actually looking forward to some of them; like my time at the club for instance. But they paled into insignificance as soon as I heard what was going to be on DSTV that evening. It was tagged: ‘The Match in Africa.’

We’ve all done things around our parents in our youthful years that they never wizened up to. They probably never believed we were capable of some of them. And no matter how liberal or strict a home is, youths will always want to test the limits.

It is natural to develop some vested interests in a place when you have lived there for as long as I lived in FESTAC town.So ten years after I left, I still know about the traffic to and from the town; I am aware of the congestion in parts of the town that is threatening to turn them into slums; I know about the rising crime caused in the main by a growing number of loitering, jobless youths.

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.