Pistorius trial: The battle that lies ahead
There are, it strikes me, not one but two Oscar Pistorius trials beginning in South Africa at Pretoria's High Court on Monday.
One is relatively straightforward - call it "The State v Oscar Pistorius".
The other is a much more fickle beast, which you could sum up as "Pistorius v Pistorius".
Both trials present huge challenges for the Olympic athlete and his high-powered legal team. But while it is, of course, early days, my suspicion is that the latter trial could prove the most awkward for him.
Here is what I mean:
Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni signs anti-gay bill
The new law is blunt and uncompromising. Having spelled out its definition of homosexuality - which includes touching another person "with the intention of committing the act of homosexuality" - the act concludes that convicted offenders will be sentenced "to imprisonment for life"
The offence of "aggravated homosexuality" - which includes having sex with "a person living with HIV" or being "a serial offender" - will also lead to life imprisonment.
Homosexuality was already illegal in Uganda. Critics may take small comfort from the fact that a death penalty clause has been removed, as has the requirement that Ugandans denounce gays to the police.
However the new law makes it a criminal offence to conduct a marriage ceremony between persons of the same sex, or to promote homosexuality in any form. Individuals can be sentenced to seven years in jail. Organisations will be shut down.
CAR: Obituary for a village mayor
You will struggle to find Dewa Adamou's village on a map.
Take the road south-west out of the capital, Bangui, and keep driving until the tarmac runs out and the forest - giant pylon-like grey trees with broad green canopies - closes in on a lumpy dirt track.
After a couple more hours, and a dozen, occasionally menacing, roadblocks, you may notice a few mud-brick buildings on your left and then a small, white-painted mosque on the right.
This is Boboua. Most of the village is invisible from the road. But it is home to approximately 6,500 people, who farm coffee and a few other crops in the overgrown fields nearby. There are teak plantations further up the road, a row of beautiful hills to the east, and diamond mines further west towards Cameroon.
Mr Adamou, 58, a Muslim and a coffee farmer, has been Boboua's mayor since 1997. Those 17 years imply a certain measure of success and popularity.
CAR's militias face identity crisis
The three prisoners knelt in the dirt. Standing in front of them, Sylvestre Yagouzou angrily brandished a grenade that one of the men had been caught carrying in his pocket. Then he grabbed some of their amulets - leather necklaces with plastic pockets - and with a long knife began to slit each one open, looking for evidence.
It was an instructive scene; a sign that the Central African Republic's fearsome anti-balaka militia are starting to worry about their image and their position in the chaotic race to fill the local military and political power vacuum in this shattered nation.
The anti-balaka is a loose alliance of village militias and vigilante groups that some see as the heroes and many others regard as the biggest threat to peace. Mr Yagouzou describes himself as the Christian militia's "co-ordinator of military affairs" in Bangui.
Earlier this week, CAR's new president, Catherine Samba-Panza, declared "war" on the anti-balaka - the name can be roughly translated as machete-proof or invincible. She said the fighters had "lost their sense of mission" and had become "the ones who kill, who pillage, who are violent".
At their camp amid the trees on the far side of Bangui's international airport, Mr Yagouzou explained that he'd been driving round town specifically looking for "fake anti-balakas" who might be involved in looting and giving the movement a bad name.
CAR crisis: The church sheltering Muslims
Father Xavier Fagba wandered past the wooden pews inside St Peter's Parish Church in the small, shabby town of Boali in the Central African Republic, and patted a few children's heads before settling down to help a tearful six-year-old girl who had stubbed her toe.
In a country busily ripping itself apart in a bloodthirsty cycle of revenge, Father Fagba and his congregation are a remarkable exception - an unlikely group now bound together by a messy combination of high ideals and the purest desperation.
The crowds sheltering inside his church - families camped out in the aisles, luggage piled high on the altar, bags of food in the font, Christmas bunting still hanging from the rafters - are all Muslims seeking sanctuary, convinced that if they leave the compound they will be killed on the spot on the dusty streets of Boali.
"Now is the time for men of good will to stand up and prove the strength and quality of their faith," said Father Fagba, standing in his floor-length black cassock beside a concrete wall peppered with bullet holes.
"When I did this, nobody in the community understood me. They attacked and threatened me."
CAR President Samba-Panza 'declares war' on militias
Across this chaotic nation, many thousands of Muslims are now under siege. Some families have found shelter in mosques or churches. A few are protected by French or African peacekeepers. Most are now desperately looking for ways to escape abroad.
After months of horrific violence, a once well-integrated society has divided sharply along religious lines. The Muslim minority finds itself splintered into an archipelago of isolation and terror.
Despite some heroic efforts at local mediation, the situation appears to be changing fast, and for the worse, with thousands of Muslims now abandoning towns that had been considered relatively safe.
There are simply not enough French or African peacekeepers to patrol this vast country, and almost no credible local institutions in place to intervene. Christian militias continue to operate roadblocks and openly warn of their determination to kill or expel all Muslims.
Mamphela Ramphele - Helen Zille: South Africa merger collapses
It was a political marriage that some believed would transform South African politics - giving a fragmented opposition its first real chance to unseat the governing ANC, if not in this year's election, then perhaps the next.
Today the ANC is the only real beneficiary of the acrimonious collapse of the deal between Helen Zille's Democratic Alliance and Agang's Ramphela Mamphele.
In the short term, the collapse must be very bad news for Ms Mamphele, whose new party was already struggling to make an impact with voters, and who has now been cast as an unreliable partner, and allegedly even a dishonest one, who has alienated many in her own party and in the DA.
The DA has certainly been bruised too - and the judgment of its leader Helen Zille called into question. But some short-term ridicule is unlikely to make a serious dent in its stature.
The impact of the past week's events on South African democracy - now 20 years old - is harder to judge.
Too much too soon for South Africa's opposition?
"Impatience" is the word that springs to mind here in South Africa following the sudden announcement that the main opposition party is parachuting in a prominent black woman as its new presidential candidate.
For years the Democratic Alliance (DA) has been incrementally building up its support base and credibility among black voters.
If you go to any poor township you will see black DA councillors or candidates challenging the governing African National Congress (ANC) on a range of issues.
But after 20 years of democracy, the ANC remains a formidable political beast, and the DA has struggled to shake off a perception - eagerly endorsed by the ANC - that its real agenda is to protect the interests of the relatively wealthy white minority here.
And so, in recent years, the DA has made no secret of its desire to headhunt a prominent black figure - either from within the ANC, or with rock-solid liberation credentials - to lead the party and transform it into South Africa's government-in-waiting.