Africa is an enchanting continent in terms of vegetation and topography. It is an intriguing one in terms of diversity. It is a warm one in terms of people and weather. It is a rich one in terms of nature’s endowments. It is a blessed one in terms of the absence of natural disasters. It is truly God’s own continent despite the swagger and precocity of the Americans in claiming that appellation. But, unfortunately, it is an abused and raped continent.

If there was one good news that broke with the new year, it was that of the stabilization of the President’s son from his near fatal accident. The preceding week must have been an anxious one for the President’s family. As a human being who believes that the death of one diminishes all, I feel for the President. As a parent who has raised a son through university with all that it entails, and I am not speaking of finance now, I empathise with him.

I will start the New Year with a couple of narratives. My favourite haunt is the place I play squash twice, three times a week. It is also a place I savour indulgences far beyond the exertions of squash. A few years back, two young women with similar, yet distinct circumstances frequented the club. They both at the time, had two children. Both were married but in name only as they carried the financial burdens of their homes. The husband of one had lost his job and was finding a ‘befitting job’ hard to get. The husband of the other had relocated abroad but ‘forgot’ to send back some dollars to feed his family.

This is one Christmas story that should never, ever be told again—by government, marketers, anyone

What are you doing at Christmas? This is a question which often comes with the yuletide season from lovers, spouses, friends, children, parents, family members, social and business associates. It starts as early as three months to Christmas, but gets more frequent as we get nearer Christmas. And the answers can be as varied as the persons asking.