In Guinea this week, at least 157 people were killed when security forces opened fire on a demonstration against military junta leader Captain Moussa Dadis Camara, according to a local rights group.

Much has changed since I visited the country in April and May this year. Then, the young Camara -- or "Dadis" as most Guineans refer to him – did not look particularly dangerous despite his images staring out from walls, buildings and roundabouts all over Conakry, and cassettes of his speeches on sale in the markets.

"Long live peace" was the graffiti of choice, and if expectations of real improvements in living standards were low, at least soldiers were in the barracks rather than shooting in the streets.

What was clear then was that a certain degree of patience had been extended to Camara both domestically and internationally.

Relief that the power vacuum opened by the death of former President Lansana Conte had not collapsed into violence, and populist anti-corruption rhetoric carried most Guineans through the first uneasy months. At the same time the international community swallowed its distaste for a military regime with the sweetening promise of elections by the end of the year.

As long as peace and the election timetable held, and Camara himself wasn't tempted into standing, Guineans and foreign partners would grit their teeth and give Camara and his National Council for Democracy and Development (CNDD) breathing space to
manage the transition.

That patience, which had shown signs of strain in recent months, has now run out. International condemnation has been swift and harsh for the deaths at the demonstration.

There could be two ways of reading Monday's use of deadly force.

If Camara is to be taken at face value when he says it isn't his fault, it might suggest a lack of control over security forces under his command – a potentially dangerous situation.

Otherwise, it would only feed the suspicions of those who see the junta as a gang of violent men whose interest extends no further than retaining power by any means.

Either way, Guineans and world bodies alike find themselves in a difficult situation.

Camara has shown little tolerance of criticism and for him to step aside voluntarily would appear almost inconceivable.

There may be little immediate leverage that organisations such as the United Nations, African Union or European Union could bring to bear.

Still, there is a sense that they are less willing to tolerate Camara than they are, for example, Mauritania's President Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, whose route to power was also via a coup, but who has avoided bloodshed on the streets.

Even if Camara could be persuaded to go or were forced from power, however, what would replace him? Another strongman of the type who has ruled Guinea since independence in 1958? A ‘new beginning’ under the auspices of another man in camouflage gear and a red beret? Not many would envy Guineans their part in the cycle.

For anyone who has seen the hit film District 9, it’s no surprise a Nigerian minister would be upset by it.

The science fiction film, set in South Africa, is an allegory on segregation and xenophobia, with alien life forms cooped up in a township of the type that grew up under apartheid and victimised and despised by humans of all descriptions.

No section of human society comes across particularly well, but the Nigerians are crudely caricatured as gangsters, cannibals, pimps, prostitutes and dealers in guns and addictive drugs (in this case cat food). The gang leader’s name sounds exactly like the surname of Nigeria’s former President Olusegun Obasanjo.

It’s just a film of course and the slurs needn’t overly detract from the entertainment. (They didn’t for the Nigerian half of my family anyway).

But this does raise a question as to why Nigerians should be seen as fair targets and casually turned into comic book gangsters? Would the film makers have got away with showing other nations or groups in this way? Would they have feared the backlash?

It also raises the question as to what Nigeria can do about really changing its image – beyond rebranding and advertising campaigns.

It could be argued that the immense and undoubted talent of law-abiding Nigerians, the vast majority at home and abroad, does not get the recognition it deserves in the rest of the world despite the acclaim for the greatest Nigerian writers, musicians, footballers and athletes.  Nor may the sacrifice of Nigerians who have given their lives as peacekeepers in Africa and elsewhere.

But we can’t forget that there are still plenty of Nigeria’s 150 million people who have no qualms about giving their country a bad name.

What about the Nigerians imprisoned in Asia and Europe for smuggling drugs? The ‘419’ fraudsters with their email appeals? The kidnappers and oil thieves of the Niger delta? Those politicians who rig elections with fraud, intimidation and bribery? Those officials who see their positions merely as a chance to fill their boots and may be all too ready to subvert the courts or obstruct people struggling to do business fairly?

And how can Nigeria’s image improve while it cannot regularly light up the homes of its people - despite enormous energy resources and billions of dollars spent?

Does Nigeria suffer unfairly from an image problem or will it improve its image once it deals with its problems?

The list published by Nigeria's central bank of those who owe money to the banks it has just bailed out makes clear that the situation has already gone well beyond just being a banking crisis.

The list cuts across the business elite and Nigeria's regions and also includes many politically powerful figures. (And it doesn't even appear that all those who could have been named as directors of the debtor companies have been identified).

It raises a question as to whether so many of the great and good are simply unable to pay their debts and if so what that means for business in Nigeria as a whole? If they could pay up, then why haven't they?

It also raises a question as to how those 'named and shamed' will react, particularly those with major political sway, in a country where behind the scenes manipulation is a way of life.

The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission has set a deadline for the debtors to start coming up with money or face arrest, but its efforts to prosecute former state governors in the past were sometimes stymied and its former boss Nuhu Ribadu driven from office.

What will be the fate of Central Bank Governor Lamido Sanusi (left), only recently picked for the post by President Umaru Yar'Adua?

How well do you think the crisis is being handled? Please take your chance to vote below. We welcome your comments too.

Pictures: Akintunde Akinleye (Reuters); Central Bank of Nigeria

Nigeria's central bank sliced through the hubris of the business elite with its $2.6 billion bailout out of five banks and the sacking of their heads in what looks as though it could be a new era for corporate governance in Africa’s most populous country.

Recently appointed Central Bank Governor Lamido Sanusi said lax governance had allowed the banks to become so weakly capitalised that they posed a threat to the entire system, and described the move as the beginning of a "restoration of confidence" in sub-Saharan Africa's second biggest economy.

The 1.14 trillion naira ($7.6 billion) in bad loans run up by the banks is roughly equivalent to the combined annual income of the poorest 20 million people in Africa's most populous nation, each of whom live on around $1 a day.

Yet the "Friday massacre", as one newspaper dubbed it, set Blackberries buzzing in Lagos champagne bars not because of the breathtaking scale of the money involved, but because of the might of the corporate aristocrats felled by Sanusi's axe.

"Ordinarily in Nigeria there is a sacred cow culture," said Reuben Abati, a respected leader writer and chairman of the editorial board of Nigeria's Guardian newspapers.

"Once someone is prominent in a particular industry you assume those persons are untouchable. What Sanusi has done now is to say nobody is too big to be held accountable, whether they are an Ibru or an Akingbola."

Cecilia Ibru and Erastus Akingbola -- the former chief executives of Oceanic Bank and Intercontinental Bank -- were arguably the highest-profile casualties of the cull, titans in a corporate elite dominated by egos and empire builders.

Ibru is from one of Nigeria's most powerful business families, whose interests range from shipping and hotels to oil and media. Akingbola is president of Nigeria's Chartered Institute of Bankers and brimming with honorary doctorates.

"Some are born great, others achieve greatness, while others still have greatness thrust upon them. But rarely do we have these three attributes combined so well in an individual as is the case in our Dr. Erastus Bankole Oladipo Akingbola," blasts the biography on his website.

In his trademark bow-tie and frameless spectacles, Sanusi's slight physique and measured rhetoric mark him out from some of the more flamboyant personalities it is his job to regulate.

Some Nigerian commentators have argued that the cull by Sanusi, a northerner, targeted southern bank executives and that it was a retaliation for consolidation four years ago which saw some northern banks absorbed by their southern peers.

But the forensic precision of Sanusi's public statements left the numbers to speak for themselves.

The loans they racked up -- including credit to speculators on a stock market which fell 60 percent over the past year and unsecured financing to fuel importers who have seen oil prices halve -- meant the five were constant borrowers of public money.

They accounted for almost 90 percent of exposure to the central bank's discount window, a facility which allows banks to meet short-term obligations by borrowing central bank funds.

The results of Sanusi's audit have left many wondering how the five banks managed to survive for so long.

Intercontinental and Oceanic had both won national and international banking awards. Analysts from brokerage Renaissance Capital were shown Intercontinental Bank's balance sheet in April and published a report saying it had enough capital to absorb its asset risks and there was no threat to its solvency.

Ibru was quoted in this month's edition of McKinsey & Company's business journal McKinsey Quarterly as saying: "In five to 10 years, we expect to be a well-known, established bank beyond this sub-region of Africa."

One Nigerian analyst commented "When the dust settles, one of the most shocking aspects of this crisis is going to be the magnitude of the gap between the rot in the system and what its leaders wanted us to believe."

Will this be a new era for Nigeria’s companies? For Nigeria itself?

The Boko Haram sect surprised many in Nigeria and elsewhere with the violence of their uprising last week.

Before Boko Haram was suppressed by the security forces at the cost of nearly 800 lives, we learned that the group's name means "Western education is sinful" in the Hausa language used in northern Nigeria.

We also learned that the sect's charismatic leader, Mohammed Yusuf, was, before he was killed while in police detention, opposed to all things Western.

Which prompts two thoughts. The first is that the anti-education message may not have much traction in Nigeria, a country whose inhabitants are determined to get ahead and secure the best education for their children. In many cases that will be either in the West or in Nigerian schools offering a Western-style curriculum.

During the years I spent in the country, staff working for me were always concerned about being able to raise enough money for their children's school uniforms and books.

And the second thought: Yusuf's opposition to the modern world seems to have had its limits. When the violence erupted in Maiduguri, he was seen riding in a Toyota car, dressed in military-style fatigues and accompanied by men carrying Russian-designed assault rifles.

So far the exact toll from the latest bout of religious rioting in northern Nigeria is not clear. At least 150 have died and the toll may well go higher.

The killings are bad enough, but the north has experienced much worse within living memory. One of the bloodiest outbreaks of religious rioting occurred in Kano in 1980, and northern cities saw a series of upheavals during the decade that followed.

The Kano riots, led by Muhammadu Marwa, a Muslim preacher otherwise known as "Maitatsine", were  put down by the army.

Reporting nearly 30 years ago on the Kano disturbances, Lagos Radio quoted the then defence minister, Iya Abubakar, as saying: "The armed forces have successfully dislodged religious fanatics from areas occupied by them in Kano.

"Hostages captured by the fanatics have been set free and are being kept by the infantry brigade in Kano."

At the time, the death toll from 10 days of rioting was put at 1,000. Nearly a year later the government-controlled Daily Times said it was in fact 4,177.

As expected, U.S. President Barack Obama’s speech to Africa in Accra had plenty to say on the importance of good governance – but there was also a very strong message that his “new moment of promise” is one that Africans have to seize for themselves.

"You have the power to hold your leaders accountable, and to build institutions that serve the people. You can serve in your communities, and harness your energy and education to create new wealth and build new connections to the world. You can conquer disease, end conflicts, and make change from the bottom up. You can do that. Yes you can. Because in this moment, history is on the move,” Obama said.

"Freedom is your inheritance. Now, it is your responsibility to build upon freedom's foundation. And if you do, we will look back years from now to places like Accra and say that this was the time when the promise was realized -- this was the moment when prosperity was forged; pain was overcome; and a new era of progress began. This can be the time when we witness the triumph of justice once more."

To listen to the whole speech, you can find a link on the White House website.

As Obama put it: "Make no mistake: history is on the side of these brave Africans, and not with those who use coups or change constitutions to stay in power. Africa doesn't need strongmen, it needs strong institutions.”

There was no doubt they were strong words from the son of a Kenyan immigrant, who through elections has become the leader of the world’s most powerful country. Obama’s background may also give his message a better chance of being heard than those of past American leaders lecturing Africa on what it needs to do.

But when all is said and done and Obama flies off to deal with more urgent U.S. priorities, will the message be heeded? Will Africa live up to that promise?

That political stability is vital for investment and development goes without saying, but it seems as though too much instability can be bad for criminal enterprises too.

The cocaine cartels that used West Africa, and Guinea-Bissau in particular, as a conduit to Europe were long accused of worsening the chaos in one of the region’s poorest and most troubled states by buying off some factions of the security forces and political leaders.

But if so, things may have gone too far.

In less than a year, Guinea-Bissau has lost President Joao Bernardo “Nino” Vieira (dead), the head of the army (dead), the head of the navy (fled), a former defence minister (dead) and a candidate to replace the slain president in the June 28 election (dead). And those are just some of the figures at the top.

Whichever of Guinea-Bissau’s leaders might have been involved in the drugs trade and which were trying to fight it, the removal of such a swathe of the leadership appears for now at least to have knocked the traffickers off balance too.

Drug smuggling through West Africa has plummeted, according to the U.N., despite the fact that its geography also makes it an ideal bridge between Latin America and Europe.

"The fact that big traffickers do not any longer have certain partners in power clearly have disrupted the routes," said Antonio Mazzitelli, regional head of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. "A trafficker would never bring 2 tonnes of drugs to a country where he is not sure he can operate,” he told Reuters.

Political changes in Guinea, where a junta seized power after the death of President Lansana Conte, and Ghana, where the opposition won a democratic election, also appear to have limited their use as smuggling conduits for now.

An election in Guinea-Bissau now offers a chance for a new start. With greater international support its chance of becoming a failed state could have improved.

A question for the West African countries – and for the drug traffickers – may be whether administrations that become more entrenched over time will more easily fall prey to the lure of the drug money despite the dangers.

Nigerian President Umaru Yar’Adua has laid out the details of a 60-day amnesty programme for militants and criminals in the Niger Delta. Under the deal, all gunmen who lay down their weapons during a 60-day period ending in October will be immune from prosecution. The offer extends to those currently being prosecuted for militant-related activities, meaning Henry Okah – the suspected leader of the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND) – could also walk free if he agrees to renounce the notion of armed struggle.

Several factional leaders – including Ateke Tom, Farah Dagogo, Soboma George and Boyloaf – have said they accept the idea of amnesty in principle but want talks with President Yar’Adua to hammer out the details.

Advocates say such an amnesty would meet one of the key demands of militant groups and is the only way to bring an end to instability which costs Nigeria billions of dollars in lost oil revenues each year, prevents the development of the very communities the militants claim to represent and causes world energy prices to rise further, which ultimately falls back on the Nigerian consumer.

Critics say amnesty simply provides a get-out-of-jail free card to those responsible for kidnappings, acts of sabotage and banditry and that the promises to re-educate and reintegrate them into civilian society would require years of investment. The government has said it will not offer a “buy back” programme – money for surrendered weapons – but does the scheme reward those who have taken up the armed struggle while leaving peaceful protesters with nothing?

It is not the first time amnesty has been offered to armed gangs in the Niger Delta. Yar’Adua’s predecessor Olusegun Obasanjo struck such an agreement in 2004 with militants including Mujahid Dokubo-Asari, whose Niger Delta People's Volunteer Force turned over thousands of weapons in return for amnesty. But the deal later broke down when some factions accused others of profiting from disarmament at their expense, and Asari was later arrested and charged with treason.

Is Yar’Adua’s amnesty offer a serious attempt at resolving the crisis in the Niger Delta or will it suffer the same fate as the previous amnesty deal? Is it simply an attempt to win political currency for the ruling party in the Niger Delta ahead of elections in 2011? What happens after the amnesty? What hope is there that the resources and political will are there to ensure the longer-term development of the Niger Delta and prevent a resurgence of the cycle of the frustration, unemployment and violence that has characterised the region for so long?

We often hear of the human cost of war. We don't often see the cash cost laid out so baldly as in the price list that went with my colleague Abdi Sheikh's feature from Mogadishu on the arms market that thrives in the city amid Somalia's tragedy.

Among popular weapons, a 120 mm mortar costs $700, plus $55 for each mortar bomb. A 23 mm anti-aircraft gun (truck mounted), fetches a hefty $20,000.

Pistols range from $400 to $1,000 according to condition and country of origin. An Indian-made AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle costs $140. Better quality versions from North Korea cost $600 and the Russian original costs $400. Hand-grenades go for $25 each, landmines $100.

Huge weapons systems, such as nuclear missiles, are the stuff of international geopolitics. But in Africa at least, the weapons that are killing people on a daily basis in places like Somalia, the Democratic Republic of Congo and Darfur are more modest in scale and can be bought at a relatively low cost.