I don’t know about you, but I am just glad that these elections are about over—we are now at the stage where judges and senior lawyers can earn their pay. The expectations had been high.

In the week that New Zealand woke up to the horror of terrorism for the first time in its history, Nigeria was confronted with its own all-too-familiar instrument of mass deaths in the name of building collapse. The former claimed 50 lives, mainly adults.

I have a younger friend, an aburo, in the common Nigerian parlance, who lives in Canada. He has been living in his adopted country for the past two decades. I have only met him a few times in Nigeria when he came visiting, and in Canada when I had cause to visit. But he is so active on the WhatsApp platform we both belong to that I feel I know him very well.

I just recently finished a most gripping book. Gripping in style; gripping in freshness; gripping in vividness and gripping in message.Line after uncomfortable line, the book forcefully reminded me of the likely consequence of the dangerous ethnic game we are playing in Nigeria. ‘Left To Tell’ is a personal account of the Rwandan Holocaust by a young lady who lost every member of her family to the brutality of that insane period.

I was in church when the rain started. It was at that time of the day, and that day of the week when the religious spend time with their Creator in churches and some mosques. The person next to me and with whom I had earlier shared only a brief good morning, now turned to me with a smile and said ‘God is about to cleanse the land’. I smiled back in appreciation of his humour and prophecy. Not long after that, the Priest mounted the pulpit and virtually repeated the same thing. ‘God is using the rain to remove all the ‘yamayama’ – meaning filth – of yesterday’s election’ he said.

I barely knew her. But the little I knew I liked. She came across as warm and unpretentious when our paths crossed. She is petite, light complexioned and still shapely for a grandmother. She also didn’t have the airs some half-castes seem to acquire.

Two weeks ago, I reached out to some of the media chiefs I am still in contact with to ask if there was any credible opinion poll on the Nigerian forth coming elections. I specifically wanted to know on whose side the presidential pendulum was swinging.

This time next week will find many of us at the polls. I hope the turn out will be large. I also hope we will do everything possible to make our votes count.

When Naomi Osaka, the young Japanese player lifted the first major tennis trophy of the year on Saturday, I probably couldn’t have been happier if I was her father. There was this relief, this slow easing of tension as the return to her final serve went wild.

The second day of the second week of December found me in the Land Use Tribunal office of Lagos State. It was to honour an invitation—or a summons—sent to me. The office is on the fourth or fifth floor with no lift.