Today would have been the D-day. The day Nigerians would have gone to the polls to choose a new leader or endorse the old one. The conduct of the elections would have been as important as the outcome. It was another opportunity to show the world that we are serious about governance and due process. But it was not to be because the date was shifted seemingly out of the blues by the umpire. The reasons given are the security lapses which have been with us for at least six years. The new date to solve the security problems and have a credible election is six weeks away, on March 28.

Eight years ago, Jimi Agbaje ran a very impressive campaign when he first came into public consciousness and was contesting for the gubernatorial job in Lagos State. His jingles were catchy and his message resonated. He even had one jingle where he came dancing acrobatically to a melodious tune. It was full of verve. It was full of energy. Fashola in comparison led a dull, dour almost uninspiring campaign. At least, that was what it seemed like to me and I told my late friend who was handling his campaign ads that his man did not come across as a confident candidate.

JOHN was diagnosed diabetic at 40, but instead of focusing on the disease, he ignored it. After all, he didn’t feel sick. But gradually, his health was failing.

The writings of Peter Enahoro who turned 80 recently played a part in my taking to journalism. I interviewed him in 1979 when he came back from a 13-year self –imposed exile. I also interviewed him in 1981 when he launched ‘Africa Now’, a pan African news magazine. These two interviews reveal a bit about his person and his craft. I have taken excerpts from them as my tribute to this icon of African journalism. Enjoy!

I must confess I didn’t hear it: I read it in one of the publications but then neither the PDP nor President Jonathan has denied it. I am referring to the statement that the President was reported to have made in one of his campaign rallies that the Nigeria of his dream is a country without prisons. This was supposed to be a sort of dig at General Buhari who had many politicians jailed for long terms under his watch.

If a week- seven days- is said to be a long time in politics, then seven years must be an eternity. Time enough at least to write your name on marble or on a shifting sand on the beach. It took less than seven years for example for Obama and the US to bring America out of economic depression and start creating jobs and wealth again

I love the thought of a New Year. I love the notion that the good, the bad and the ugly of the past year are behind me and I can start on a new slate. It’s a form of closure and I love it. I also like the feeling of having a blank page, a white canvass to play with. I love the energy of the first few days as I try to plan the year and luxuriate on the purity of my vast, virgin canvass. In many ways, it is like a new birth.

One of the few things that gladdened my heart this yuletide season was an announcement by my Parish Priest that the Lagos Arch-diocese of the Catholic Church had pledged the Christmas day second collections to helping our brothers and sisters in the North East. We were therefore enjoined to contribute generously to the project and those who wanted to do more could send personal cheques to the pool.

We have all moaned about the political landscape in the country. A landscape that breeds corruption, incompetence and mindless greed. We have all complained about the fact that we are ruled in the main, by our second eleven and the decay in health, education, energy to name but a few is an eloquent attestation to our choice of leaders.

It will be Christmas in a few days. Many buildings are already well decorated with Xmas lights as are quite a few streets especially around the Lagos Island. They look quite nice at night and bring the spirit of the season home. The activities of the yuletide season are also here.

This season, called the Ember months, always fills me with some trepidation and I usually heave a sigh of relief when it rolls to a crescendo on January 1. About this time next week, it would be a year since a dear friend Sesan Ogunro lost his life to armed car snatchers. Till today, to the best of my knowledge, none of his assailants has been apprehended.

Have you ever arrived at a party that has just finished? I have and it is not a pretty sight. This was many years ago in Edo State at a small town on the outskirts of Benin City. All the elements conspired against me on that day; bad roads, bad traffic, nonchalant traffic officials. On top of all that, I didn’t know my way and missed important turnings a couple of times.

Last week Saturday, exactly a week ago, Mr Bode Fadase known to many as Barry, passed on. He was 71. The news of his death filtered into the social circuit shortly after his demise and spread like wild fire. His was a death that shocked many especially his peers who still have memories of him in his imperial element as he often was for Barry loved life. He loved to have people around him. He loved camaraderie and jokes. Simply put, he loved to hold court.

This is a true story. A close friend was driving on a fairly busy road on Lagos Island when he was stopped by a traffic light. He looked right and his eyes caught a nine or ten year old child crying uncontrollably by the side. The sight so moved him that he parked his car and got down to see what was making the child so distraught. It turned out that the figures didn’t add up for the poor child.

By MUYIWA ADETIBA First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out— because I was not Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionist and I did not speak out— because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak out—because I was not […]