I had an interesting two-hour meeting with an elder statesman recently; a man who has been in the corridors of power and influence in Nigeria for almost half a century, who knows— and is known—by past and present rulers, who is respected by political and business brokers in the country.

I once had a property I wanted to put up for sale. One of the big Pentecostal churches showed interest and sent its representatives. They looked around, and after satisfying themselves, scheduled a meeting with me.

I get uncomfortable, peeved even, when I hear the sweeping statement that the Presidency has achieved nothing in what? Six years? It is a statement that is shallow at best and, stretched further, uncharitable. Even Lucky Igbinedion, as incompetent as he was, achieved ‘something’ in Edo State.

I confess to looking away in embarrassment and disgust the first time I saw adult men kiss and fondle on TV. It was in a UK based soap opera. Today, years after my first encounter, I still feel uncomfortable— squeamish even— when I see two grown men tongue kiss. I suppose these things need getting used to because I don’t feel that squeamish about lesbians kissing and fondling on TV since I had seen the female version of same sex relationship at least a decade before the male version.

The remains of Sesan Ogunro, my friend and brother, was laid to rest last Friday. He would have been 62 on May 1. It is ironic that a man who took such a good care of his body— he neither drank nor smoked, took living bitters periodically to detox, exercised almost everyday, and took his medical check ups seriously— never lived to celebrate his 62nd birthday. That is a reflection of the short and brutish life in Nigeria.