ALLAH ne ya chanja mana ba kowa ba (God is the one who changed it for us; no one can lay claim to it) was the chant of a disabled man carrying a placard showing the picture of President elect – General Muhammadu Buhari on the day the indefatigable Professor Attahiru Jega announced the final results of the 2015 Presidential election. The young man was reminding all about the content of Saint Paul’s letter to the people of Rome. My prayer to God is that everyday President Muhammadu Buhari governs this country; he will always remember this truth.

The technology world has always been prone to buzzwords, some of which make the cut into day-to-day conversation, while others disappear in a lexicon haze. For example, the cloud is now very much a player, whereas you seldom, if ever, hear about the information superhighway anymore.

DAYS have turned into weeks since May 29, 2015, when Muhammadu Buhari assumed office as President of Nigeria. But the much promised change is nowhere in sight and seems to have died with the election campaigns. The President’s most ardent supporters and loyalists are already running out of excuses for the apparent inaction that has characterised his government, unless you count foreign trips, which are becoming the hallmark of his presidency.

RACISM is a heinous crime tolerated among Africans who are themselves victims. Its demonic venom is entrenched in our socio-political life, to achieve narrow ambitions through tribal periscope. Despite the pretence, we don’t access people who offer themselves for leadership on competence but on tribal or selfish considerations and no matter who is there, as long as he is not from our ethnic or political divide, we must pull him down. This is the “kabu-kabu” politics bedeviling our development. Sen. Ifeanyi Okowa who inherited a financially poor state is already a victim.

IT has been a pleasant week of nonstop electricity supply. I cannot remember when I last enjoyed uninterrupted power supply for two straight days. Suddenly, the supply has kept coming for one straight week and it has not stopped. I remember the days I use to go to bed with a book in my hands and wake up to find the book on my chest, with the lights still on. How I crave for those good old days.