Nigeria, Aug. 26 -- Friday, morning, 21 August. As soon as I switched my phone back on, it began to ring. It was a call from a childhood friend of Rockson's, bearing the worst news of the year, guaranteed to be an instance of the worst news I will ever hear in my life, however long God grants that I remain on earth. "Rockson is dead!" he said, barely holding back tears, apologising for being a bearer of bad news. The caller whom I know very well and his tears, which he could no longer stop, did not permit the false hope of "You're joking, not so?" or "Tell me it is not true." I brought the phone from my ear, as if to distance the tragic news from me, stared at the screen, and wished I hadn't powered it back on.

As a rule, I switch off wh...