Things you learn early in life hardly leave you. In fact, they influence the course of your life either for good or ill. I had an Editor during my early years in journalism who drummed certain ‘truths’ into my head which have influenced my practice of the profession. Two of them will suffice for the purposes of this discourse. First is that there is no story that cannot be cut; the skill is in the manner of cutting.

The media goes through the same process every Independence Day. It calls on ‘prominent’ Nigerians to talk about whatever age the country is celebrating. The comments you get invariably depend on the status of the respondents. The current ‘leaders’ will talk patronisingly and benignly about the giant strides the country has made.

The routine is fairly the same. Early in the week, every week, I try to sit or lie still for a while and allow my mind to dwell on things I had witnessed, observed or read during the week. Sometimes my mind is crowded, in which case I silently pray for divine help in choosing a topic. Sometimes, on very rare occasions I must admit, the topic chooses itself with such clarity and force that I can’t wait to get to the computer. On some other occasions, it is the other way round. I am blank. I lie or sit there sometimes for a stretch, pondering what to write on.

For the first time since the Williams’ sisters took the centre stage, two Black American women this month found themselves in the Finals of the US Open. In fact, for the first time ever, three Black American women were in the Semis. The commentators, most of them Americans since the tournament took place on American soil, gushed about how good it all was for American tennis. They all found it convenient to be colour blind.

Monday was the 16th anniversary of 9/11, the day the whole world woke up to witness the full horror of man’s inhumanity to man. Today, six days after this indiscriminate and irreligious destruction of innocent lives was also the 16th anniversary of my own version of 9/11; the day I and my family witnessed at close range, the horror of man’s inhumanity to man. It was the day I was shot point blank as they say, disposed of my car, and dumped in a secluded side road to die. It was also the day, paradoxically, that I witnessed the good and bad sides of humanity.

Whistle blowing has now become a lucrative side-kick in Nigeria. But it didn’t start yesterday; or the day before. It was always there even when financial inducements were not attached to whistle blowing. Most of whistle blowing comes from a disgruntled underling who has an inside knowledge of the goings on within an organisation.

I was invited into a mentor’s bedroom a couple of weeks ago. It was as I expected it. There were shelves of books within easy reach of the bed and the writing table. The old me would have made a beehive for the book shelves and would have emerged with a couple of books that could occupy me for a week or two.

A big fight is taking place in the US tonight. Some people would want us to believe that it is going to be the fight of the year. To those who perhaps are not used to the lingo, the word ‘fight’ is often used to interplay with the word ‘boxing’ among the faithful because it reminds them of the origin of boxing.

At a breakfast meeting of veteran journalists the other day, the host asked his guests, many of whom were former Editors and top columnists, what they thought of the ‘Quit Notice’ issued by the Arewa youths to the Igbos in their domain.

Politicians are a special breed. Three months ago almost to the date, the British FA Cup Final between Arsenal and Chelsea Football Clubs was about to be played.