Alfatai and I met on the road outside the office. Arab Contractors were laying down a new thick black tarry carpet of asphalt. The road surface looked like an expanse of pitch flapjack. It was hot. Pools of water and tar were being squeezed out by a huge roller. Heat pumped from the engine and the road.
We greeted each other and walked into work. Suddenly there was a blurr of movement in front of us.
"SNAKE!" Alfatai screamed. I looked in time to see the green curls whip together and the snake sprang into the air. His mouth was a pink flash. It was wide open.
Alfatai pushed me to one side but now he was standing in the snake's way. As he pushed me he leaped up to avoid it.
I had no idea snakes could leap like that. I had no idea Alfatai, who is a rather, er... rotund man, could leap like that. His feet must have been at my shoulder. Before I knew it he was running in the other direction. The snake hadn't quite reached him.
All the road tar gang stopped what they were doing and came to see the snake. It had sped off under a truck, past a couple of lizards who -as usual- looked fairly nonplussed. One of the guys grabbed a tar rake, hooked it under the trailer and hit the snake repeatedly.
"Kill it! Kill it!" Alfatai shouted. The snake looked limp curled on the ground. I wasn't buying it though... Then one of the road gang said: "Which one of you will be the man now?" he strode over and picked up the snake behind the jaw, pinning it with one deft movement.
"See, I'm the king of snakes," he said. Everyone else refused to even come close to him as he stood there. He had a swagger about him, but I hoped it wouldn't backfire.
He squeezed the neck and the jaw openedshowing the fangs. I wasn't going to get too close either. After posing for a picture he flung the snake into a maize field behind him.
"Why you no kill am?" demanded Alfatai, his brows knitted, finger pointing, accusing. The guy shrugged and picked up the rake to carry on working. The snake had been caught out warming up on the new tarmac, I hoped it would not come back.

Snake bites kill a huge number of people in Nigeria. A study in 1980 published in the Lancet medical journal found that over 10,000 Nigerians die every year, nearly half of the recorded deaths from snake bites in West Africa. Incredibly, according to research published six years ago in the medical journal Theraputic Drug Monitor that's just under 10 per cent of world-wide snakebite deaths.
If you were bitten in Benue state, the Lancet study found, 12.5 per cent of cases were fatal. A lack of anti-venom, poor health infrastructure, remote farms and Naja Nigricolis (the spitting cobra), make for poor prospects. I doubt things have changed much since then.

When I told him about the snake later, Attahiru said: "Ya! Snake-bite, you work in the fields, this one bite you. CHA! You die."

The Abuja carnival kicked off today. The organisers claimed over 2000 separate cultural groups were involved, from different ethnicities and cultures across Nigeria. That's pretty extraordinary.
What's less edifying is that the whole four day shindig cost Nigeria a billion Naira (about 4 million pounds at today's rate). Needless to say the states whose governors are running for presidency used the opportunity to cover the floats with campaign posters. In other words. They got paid for campaigning. Nice.

The road from Abuja to Lagos is littered with the carcasses of motor vehicles.
Cars; brittle frames, covered in the bright orange blooms of oxidization; busses, ripped open like tin cans; trucks, overturned, loads spilled, axles twisted.
I saw one patch of grass at the side of the road that had obviously been burned in a savage fire. The only thing left was the front axle of the truck, and twelve patches of orange-black dust where the tyres used to be.
Everything that was salvageable had been taken from the less serious wrecks, or broken down cars. Doors, windows, bumpers stripped off -even tyres seized for re-sale. How many accidents had those tyres been in? I imagined tyres being recycled, wreck after wreck after wreck until they were a shredded, rubbery mass.
Some carcasses had been covered by creeping plants, lianas, beautiful white and purple lilies and razorlike bush grass. Nature was taking the mangled metal back into her. Gradually they would be eaten by the bush, and the mark of burning torment, where god knows how many people died in a burning fireball, would disappear.
In England loved ones of people who die in a car accident tape a bouquet of flowers to a lamp post near the site of the accident. They rot slowly away leaving only the harsh railings and uniformity of “urban clearway”.
On a trip to Kogi state the other day, I saw these hulks every fifty yards and thought it very likely that we would see some sort of accident. On the way back we did. A tanker-trailer was attempting some crazy manoeuvre on the thin road. The wheels on one side slid off the tarmac and the tanker disappeared from view, rolling down a ravine that must have been hundreds of feet deep.
The back of the tanker had begun to slip first. As if he had rested the whole truck against the bush, as one might rest a bicycle against a wall. But the flimsy grass bent, and there was nothing behind it but a huge drop.
“What is this guy doing?” said one of my companions. Before he could finish shouts went up. “He just disappeared!” said another, holding her hand over her mouth, “I saw his face, the driver’s face.”
I had seen it too. The driver felt the wheels leave the road and turned to try and open the cab door. But he didn’t have enough time. Even though it seemed to be turning over so slowly, the hands didn’t act fast enough against gravity. His hands moved to the window, and he looked out.
His mouth was twisted open in panic. His teeth bared and eyes squinted. He looked like a baby in the second before crying.
It was several seconds before we heard the tanker hit the ground.
And then we did something extraordinary. We stopped. Not only did we stop, but a friend in the car behind us ran to the side of the ravine to look over. For all we knew that tanker contained thousands of gallons of petrol, or even kerosene. If it ruptured anyone standing where the truck went over would be vaporised in the explosion.
I wanted to leave, to drive away. But our driver was helping the conductors of the truck who had not been in the cab (someone later said they had been directing the driver in a suicidal three-point-turn) and we couldn’t go. All I could do was sit and watch the crowd forming around us.
What were these people doing here? Bus after bus stopped and its passengers ran down to the lip of the ravine. What were they doing here, these women with babies tied to their back? These men reaching for their camera phones? It certainly wasn’t to help the driver.
Most of these people could not possibly have seen the original incident. They were stopping simply because other people had stopped. The crowd was building.
How long would it be before the driver of a speeding bus came past and, taking his eye off the road to rubberneck the scene, ploughed into the crowd? Inside the hot car sweat trickled down my forhead into my eye. When would we get going? Could we please get going? There was nothing to be done, I stayed quiet.
I have to admit, curiosity is a powerful urge, I had to fight it myself. Curiosity is, after all, my business. At first I wanted to see what had happened, but then I was revolted by the crowd doing just that. My friend who had foolishly run to the lip of the ravine said later: “I just had to see… I couldn’t stop myself.” After we got moving again a car passed us with the driver in, heading to hospital. For all that curiosity no one among the crowd will ever know for certain if he survived.

What balls! award nomination number 1:
Today Obasanjo told the graduating class at the top military training college in Jos that Nigerians were to blame for not making their leaders accountable. He said improved morality was the only way to save Nigeria. He added his government had done what it could, but Nigerians must do more.
In the audienbce was the 20th Sultan of Sokoto Muhammed Sa'ad Abubakar III.

What balls! award nomination number 2:
Federal Capital Territory Minister Nasir El-Rufai yesterday told an audience in Abuja that "housing is one of the biggest problems facing Nigerians". He said efforts must be made to increase home ownership, from 10 per cent currently. "We currently don't know how many homeless people there are in the country," he said.
El-Rufai has demolished tens of thousands of people out of their homes without providing adequate housing to replace them. He has destroyed property law by demolishing houses owned by people with legitimate land title, bought under the military government.

Kabba weekend, what can I say? Booze, crazy golf, treasure hunt, more booze, wind up granny racing, and bonkers hats... Did I mention the booze?
Noel and Leo, two giants of human kindness, thank you for a great getaway.
Up the navy!

Someone stole Aso Rock this morning.
Driving past Garki market this morning the ever present green loaf had simply disappeared. The once blue sky had turned grey, as if the wispy little cloud that sometimes hangs over the rock had taken its chance while no one was looking and crept down to cover the whole of the sky.
The harmattan is here. Attahiru said it was coming. He'd been in Kaduna the day before and the air had closed in.
In the last few days of the long long rainy season the lights outside the office attracted a huge swarm of insects. Brightly jewelled beetle-flies, opalescent conical biting gnats, muscular crickets, huge grasshoppers by the hundred, mosquitoes by the billion. The insects in their turn attracted bats and geckos. The bats swooped down on the lights, grabbing juicy grasshoppers with a snap. I saw a gecko get greedy and go for something that was too big for him, the added weight pulled him off the wall.
I sat and watched it, mesmerised.

Donald Duke came to the paper yesterday. As he spoke I was just ticking off the cliches. "Nigeria is like a car", check. "Leadership is about who you surround youself with", check. "If not now, when?" check. "Things should be done on merit", check. "Record of delivery", check. "Tested leadership", check. "Taking nigeria into the 21st century", check.
He didn't strike me as being very passionate. He talked a bit about horse trading, and about politics being a dance that everyone did. I think he's going to accept a position in government, maybe VP, but he didn't seem to have the polish or the fire for the campaign.
His entourage was massive, I thought. Aziz said it was small, but I counted about 20 individuals. I wonder what they all do? "Hangers on, aides of aides" Aziz said.
The advert goes "Just what is it about Donald Duke?" accompanied by a piture that makes him look exactly like Katanga from Live and Let Die.
"What is it about Donald Duke?" I asked Anas
"Tinapa!" Anas replied.
DD said: "In Cross Rivers we don't have any oil, but we are aware there are people in the area who have money and need a place to get away and spend it. That's why we've concentrated on Tourism."
Tinapa is Africa's largest tax free shopping resort, or will be. The company has spent a fortune on sponsoring the football on SABC. When I got to Nigeria the advert said "Tinapa, coming in September 2006". Before that I'm told it was "coming April 2006". Since then, it became "coming in 2006," and then "coming in 2007" and now "coming soon".

At a dinner party last week, we discussed the attitude of the police. I'm always afraid of sounding like a whining oyibo when I talk about things that are entirely negative, but encounters with the police do make entertaining stories.
for example, on the way up to Zaria my friend nearly ran a policeman over. He didn't slow down when the man started waving his baton, and then stopped after making the guy really mad. The cop came over waving his gun, and when he saw me said: "A-ah! White man why did you order your driver to run me down?" that's it I thought, we're all going to jail. But it was ok. In the end I didn't even see the moment my friend handed over the money to oga sergeant. I thought we'd got away free, until my companion sheepishly owned up to paying the guy 500. I was astonished how cheap it had been, I'd been fingering N1000 notes in my pocket, wondering how many we'd need.
So this article caught my eye. I imagined being flagged down and ordered out to speak to the oga commander, finding him sitting by the side of the road, playing chess and talking about Sartre.

A disturbing start to Chief Femi Fani-Kayode's tenure as aviation minister. His SSS guards shot in the air at the door of the federal secretariat during a fight with secretariat security men. They were moving in "electronic equipment" to Fani-Kayode's new office, when the security men asked to see proof that the stuff was Femi's and didn't belong to the government, or his old ministry.
There was definitely a fight, some people said they didn't hear the shots, but others say there was definitely shooting at the gate of the ministry building.
Fani-Kayode replaced Borishade as aviation minister this week. Borishade was widely seen as Obasanjo's friend, and a know-nothing on aviation matters. Fani-Kayode is OBJ's bulldog, and certainly does not have a history in aviation. He is on record as saying the ADC crash last month was “an act of God.”
Once OBJ's feircest critic, Fani-Kayode was given a job at the presidency as special advisor on media after a particularly vicious column in a newspaper.

By this evening a note of caution had crept into Attahiru's voice.
"I was talking to some people who say Dasuki would have been better..."
Oh yeah.
"There is a worry that this man now is a military man. Some people might come to him and say 'aha! We need action!' And he gives it to them."
The role of the Sultan is to represent the estimated 70 million Muslims in Nigeria. Maccido had been a vocal peace maker in times of violence between Muslim and Christian, even if he had done it while being ferried around in a N60 million Mercedes, paid for by Sokoto state.
"You see the job of the Sultan is to represent his people, to find out what they want and bring it for them. Jokolo, the emir of Gwandu was like this, but they said he was stubborn."
Jokolo was deposed from his emir's throne by Obasanjo. Now on the brink of dying, he's been prevented from going to the US for hospital treatment he desperately needs for a catalogue of serious health problems.
"But In my own case, I believe that whatever God has chosen is the right one."
But I thought the kingmakers chose the sultan?
"Aha, yes. Whatever god has chosen to tell the kingmakers. Maybe they thought Dasuki was not right."

Attahiru was very insistent.
“If they want peace and security, they should make Shehu Sarkin Sudan the next Sultan.”
Of the four ruling houses of the Sokoto Caliphate, he was the favourite contender from the House of Bello. The house of Bello, I gather, is considered the bona fide lineage at the moment. Part of the reason nobody liked Dasuki back in the 1990s was he was imposed by Babangida who changed the ruling house.
“Things have changed. With money now you can buy this thing. Its like when your queen dies, Tony Blair taking the crown and giving it to someone completely different,” Attahiru said.
According to Attahiru the kingmakers are supposed to ensure the successor is the right person for the job, but they are supposed to limit their choices to the same family. “Or then brothers will be asking ‘what’s going on?’ and start this thing and that thing.”
When Dasuki came to the throne there was widespread violence in the north.
In the end it was a surprise outsider who took the title. Colonel Mohammedu Sa’ad, grandson of Sultan Abubakar, is the 20th Sultan. Happily for Attahiru, the Colonel’s from the same house as Sarkin Sudan.
“Ya! See? They did the right thing," he said this morning, grin cracked accross his face.
In the news room we had a problem trying to decide if he was still a Colonel. The government called him a Brigadier General, but he only handed in his final assessment at military school yesterday. So we stuck with Colonel.
Attahiru is often called “the governor”, or “Bafarawa” because he shares a first name with the Sokoto Governor. In his declaration at the Sultan’s palace Gov. Bafarawa said: “The appointment of Col. Abubakar III is an act of God which nobody can dispute.”
His evidence for this?
“Because when the news came to me that there was a plane crash and the Sultan was involved, I prayed to God to guide me in making the right decision and today from what we have witnessed God has answered our prayers.”
Apparently, according to our correspondent in Sokoto, the crowd were very pleased.

Today, a riot broke out between the police and the Civil Defence Corps.
Two Civil Defence officers were directing traffic at the Wadata Junction, near the People's Democratic Party secretariat. The police came down as a show of force to protect a guy picking up the nomination form for the presidential race, and noticed the NSCDC officers were giving conflicting directions, and two accidents were narrowly avoided, witnesses said.
The Commissioner of Police ordered the NSCDC guys to let the police take over, but the corpers said no.
They were chased off the junction, but came back with reinforcements and started throwing bottles, stones and sticks at the police, who responded with tear gas.
The Commissioner of Police and three other officers were injured.
The NSCDC top shot in the city said the police threatened to shoot one of their officers who tried to intervene.
The police said they showed "maturity and restraint."
It goes without saying our report on the incident was almost novel length before I got to it. And the Commissioner of Police Alobi was a heroic figure, restraining himself in the face of gross provocation...
Inspector General Sunday Ehindero said: "There should be an investigation, but I think the Commissioner deserves a round of applause."
Mind you I saw the NSCDC in action on the road just outside of Kaduna. There were four of them, all directing motorists to go at once. It was such a chaotic melee, other street kids had joined in with the waving of arms and the stamping of feet.

Maths
I'm not good at numbers. When I try to do mental arithmatic the numbers start swimming around in my minds eye, giggling... a xylophone plays in the background.
But today I sucessfully held a maths training session for journalists. We went over how to calculate percentages and averages, and then did a test.
I've heard that university here is about the equivalent of A level, and these guys stopped doing maths at primary level.
Sam said: "When maths enter, I become a carpenter." Good luck building if you can't add up, mate.
I spoke to Silas later, he told me about his experiences at school with maths. "All it took was one teacher to chase me off liking maths. At one stage I was rubbing shoulders with the top boy in the class, and the next, I was nowhere. A new teacher came in and drew a big equation something on the board and then left the classroom. If you couldn't understand it, he wasn't interested."

I'm still at the office at 11pm. This is crazy. We're waiting for the annoucement of the next Sultan of Sokoto, which is iminent.
I gather the front runners are a man called Alhaji Alhaji, the former High Commissioner to London, Alhaji Shehu Malami, the former High Commissioner to South Africa, and Colonel Sambo Dasuki.
The controversy seems to be around Dasuki. His father was installed as Sultan by the military ruler Ibrahim Babangida, and then ousted by another dictator, Sani Abacha. The recently deceased Sultan Maccido took over in 1998.
Dasuki's son is also regarded as a "Babangida man". Lips wrinkled and heads shook at the thought.
"Ah-ah! Alhaji Alhaji would make a terrible Sultan too..." someone said. "I've heard he's very isolated. If you go to his house and don't have an appointment, he refuses to see you."
The succession of the Sultan is not a straightforward business. Its not hereditary, necessarily. After all how do you decide which son it would go to if you have four wives?
Eleven elders gather together and decide who would be best in the role. This year there are only ten because the Magajin Rafi Alhaji Muhammadu Bello Shehu was also killed in the crash. They are currently selecting from four families: Gidan Bello, Gidan Buhari, Gidan Atiku and Gidan Ahmed Rufai. Hmmm those names sound familiar...
So I'm sitting here watching -and I'm not joking here- televised musical chairs. They come up price is right style, dance about and then sit down when the music stops. I think they're playing for crate of Star. "Premium fine lager beer-o!" the man keeps shouting.
...And I've just been told the decision has been postponed. Great. Apparently the body of the Deputy Governor. He's being buried now.
Right... shine your eyes, I'm off to bed.