Ibadan Poly destroys over 1000 phones seized from students in examination hall

N150m worth of mobile phones used by students to cheat in the school's exam were burnt by the school management after confiscation

The burning of the items was supervised by a senior lecturer and the immediate past Deputy Rector of the Institution, Mr. Bayo Oyeleke.

Others at the event were; Deputy Registrar of the school, Mrs Ayoade, the Public Relations Officer, Alhaji Soladoye Adewole, Chief Security Officer, Head of Legal Unit, Ibadan, Barrister Ige Akinsola and President of the Student Union Government, Akadiri Bayonle.

https://www.facebook.com/196454254404524/posts/320066238709991/

Eediots..

SMH

olawalebabs, Richiez, Fynestboi,lalasticlala

Kill that cow!

Once upon a time in a faraway land, there lived a Chinese wise man and his disciple. One day in their travel, they saw a hut in the distance. As they approached they realized that it was occupied in spite of its extremely poor appearance.

In that desolate place where there were no crops and no trees, a man lived with his wife, three young children and a thin, tired cow. Since they were hungry and thirsty, the wise man and his disciple stopped for a few hours and were well received.

At one point, the wise man asked: “This is a very poor place, far away from anything. How do you survive?”

“You see that cow? That’s what keeps us going,” said the head of the family. “She gives us milk, some of it we drink and some we turn into cheese. When there is extra, we go into the city and exchange the milk and cheese for other types of food. That’s how we survive.”

The wise man thanked them for their hospitality and left. When he reached the first bend in the road, he said to his disciple: “Go back, get the cow, take her to the cliff in front of us, and push her off.”

The disciple could not believe what he was hearing. “I cannot do that, master! How can you be so ungrateful? The cow is all they have. If I push it off the cliff, they’ll have no way to survive. Without the cow, they’ll all die!”

The wise man, an elderly Chinese man, took a deep breath and repeated the order: “Go ahead. Push the cow off the cliff.” Though outraged at what he was being asked to do, the student was resigned to obey his master.

He returned to the hut and quietly led the animal to the edge of the cliff and pushed. The cow fell down the cliff and died.

As the years passed by, remorse for what he had done never left the disciple. One spring day, the guilt became too much to bear and he left the wise man and returned to that little shack. He wanted to find out what had happened to that family, to help them out, apologize, or somehow make amends.

Upon rounding a turn in the road, he could not believe what his eyes were showing him. In place of the poor shack there was a beautiful house with trees all around, a swimming pool, several cars in the garage, a satellite dish, and on and on.

Three good-looking teenagers and their parents were celebrating.

The heart of the disciple froze. What could have happened to the family? Without a doubt, they must have been starving to death and forced to sell their land and leave.

At that moment, the student thought they must all be begging on the street corners of some city. He approached the house and asked a man that was passing by about the whereabouts of the family that had lived there several years before. “You’re looking at it,” said the man, pointing to the people gathered around the barbecue.

Unable to believe what he was hearing, the disciple walked through the gate and took a few steps closer to the pool where he recognized the man from several years before, only now he was strong and confident, the woman was happy, and the children were now nice-looking teenagers.

He was dumbfounded, and went over to the man and asked: “What happened? I was here with my teacher a few years ago and this was a miserable place.

There was nothing. What did you do to improve your lives in such a short time?”

The man looked at the disciple, and replied with a smile: “We had a cow that kept us alive. She was all we had. But one day she fell down the cliff and died. To survive, we had to start doing other things, develop skills we didn’t even know we had.

And so, because we were forced to come up with new ways of doing things, we are now much better off than before.”

Moral of the story: Sometimes our dependency on something small and limited is the biggest obstacle to our growth. Perhaps the best thing that could happen to you is to push your “cow” off the cliff!

Once you free yourself of the thought “it’s little but it’s certain,” or of that idea “I am not doing great but there are people who are much worse than me” — then your life will really change.

Is there a cow in your life that is keeping you miserable?

Have a great week ahead.

LAGOS AND MY POLYTHENE BAG....(A MUST READ STORY)

Try and read this to the end and am sure you won't regret it. i laughed my ribs out. Beautiful piece.

No, I’m not a plantain boy. But I admire Timaya’s music. And I most definitely love plantain – bole’d, dodo’ed, porridge’d, or chipped.
I came into Lagos 4 years ago, with nothing but a polythene bag, an Engineering degree, and a dream. Ok, it wasn’t a polythene bag, but, you’ll agree it sounds more dramatic.
Anyways, the point is, 4 years ago, when those 3 wise men at Berger welcomed me to Eko, I had nothing. No concrete plan, no white, blue, or red collar job waiting for me. It was just my dream, my certificate, and I. The dream: Run this town in 5 years.
How? Nna, why are you asking a question I can’t answer?
When I disembarked from the Ekene-Dili-Chukwu bus at Oshodi, two men lunged at me and grabbed my bag.
“Na me get am!” the first one squeaked.
“Na me go carry am!” the other one growled in a guttural voice.
It happened so fast, I was stunned for a few seconds. When I came round, I lunged at both of them, eyes closed. Pushing, kicking, punching, screaming, “Gimme my bag!!!”
After a few moments, I realized my bag was in my hand and I was kicking at dry air. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the two men, looking at me in awe. A small crowd had gathered too, stunned…until someone burst into laughter. Everyone joined except the two men, who turned out to be Taxi drivers who only wanted to give me a ride.
“Oga na wa o, e be like you be JJC…” guttural voice growled as he went to look for more reasonable passengers. Squeaky voice just shook his head, looked at his shirt, discovered two missing buttons he must have lost during our skirmish, eyed me again, hissed and walked away.
It was over almost as soon as it started. Even the crowd had dispersed. I whipped out my Motorola Razor and called Femi, my secondary school mate, who I was going to be squatting with until I ‘hammered’. He came and took me to his one room self-contained apartment.
One room…
I actually thought Femi lived in a flat. He said he worked in a bank, and generally gave the impression he was well off. Well, (as I found out after a few days) by Lagos standards, he was comfortable. His house was self-contained, meaning he didn’t have to share a toilet, bathroom and kitchen with anybody. His office was also just a N30 bus distance from his house; so, long hours in traffic was almost never a problem. Yes, he was comfortable.
Jobs are scarce. Very scarce. I realized this after carrying my CV in a brown envelope, round Lagos. I am not exaggerating when I say I went round Lagos. I did. Ask my ash colored leather shoe (it was black when I bought it). It was the same story everywhere I went: “There’s no vacancy”; or “we need someone with at least 3 years experience”. As in, I needed experience to get a job and I needed a job to get experience.
These Employers aint loyal.
Due to my joblessness-induced frustration, I started spending plenty more time on the internet: Facebook, Twitter, Nairaland etc. Naturally blessed with wittiness, creative thinking and an incredible imagination, it wasn’t hard to get some admirable following; and I kept my audience hooked. I also took writing more seriously: Fiction, humorous articles, socio-political commentaries, etc.
That was how it happened.
One night, 4 months after NYSC, some guy with 146 followers asked me for a follow-back on Twitter. On the average I get like 20 ‘kindly follow back’ requests every day, requests I generally ignore. But on that fateful day, I don’t know how it happened, I just followed him back.
I followed greatness without realizing it. That was the follow-back that changed my life. The greatest follow-back of all time.
See, some of you with plenty followers that keep ignoring follow-back requests, pray to God you don’t ignore the link to your future ‘breakthrough’ o. Ehen.
After I followed, the man sent me a direct message saying he liked my tweets and my blog articles. I thanked him and went to bed. Next morning I woke up and saw another DM. He wanted to discuss something and needed my phone number. I gave it to him. I mean, what could happen?
What could happen? A lot my people. A whole lot.
He called that morning and introduced himself – Anthony Okpa. The name didn’t ring a bell. He said he worked with a bank and he could use my writing skills for a project he was working on. He asked if I could meet him for lunch; he’d send someone to come pick me.
Free lunch. Free ride. Possible job. Nna, who was I to say no?
I still didn’t know if it was some scam so I didn’t give him my address. I just told him I’d wait at Oshodi busstop. He told me his assistant would be there by 12noon. I quickly brought out the suit I’d not worn in months, selected my best shirt, borrowed charcoal iron from a neighbor, pressed them all, polished my shoe, went for a shave and haircut, and was ready by 11am.
When I arrived the Bank’s headquarters at Lagos Island, his assistant took me straight up to Anthony’s office which was at the top of the high-rise building. My eye almost popped out of my head when I saw the inscription on his office door.
‘Anthony Okpa – Deputy Managing Director.’
Of a bank.
Not a branch, but the bank. The whole bank.
Bruh, I can’t forget how my legs almost buckled as I entered his office. He stood up, came round the table and shook my shivering hands. He noticed how nervous I was and asked me to sit and relax.
I sat. I relaxed. I shivered harder.
We did some small talk, got to know ourselves better, then went straight to business. He wanted to run for Governor of his state and was currently recruiting young people into his campaign team. He wanted me to be his campaign social media/strategy manager. The election was in two years and he wanted to establish a strong social media presence ASAP. I’d create engaging content for and manage all his online accounts, and so on and so forth.
I didn’t know when a tear dropped from my left eye. Till today, I still don’t know if he’d noticed it. He didn’t stop talking as I quickly wiped it off. He asked if I was interested. I nodded vigorously; afraid I’d squeak and burst into tears if I tried speaking. He was visibly delighted. He added that when the campaign team was complete we’d all meet, get to know each other, brainstorm, and map out strategies; but meanwhile I could start working. I’d get a laptop, a smartphone, a modem, and other equipment I’d need to commence the job.
He brought out his cheque book, scribbled something, asked my official name, scribbled some more, tore out the leaf and gave it to me. I couldn’t hold back the tears when I saw the figure on it. This time he noticed and offered his handkerchief. I dried the tears and apologized for being such a sisi. He waved it off and asked if the money could cover the next 3 months, salary and all. I nodded till my head almost fell off my neck. The money was more than enough. After buying all the equipments I needed, I was still going to be a millionaire.
Yes. Millionaire.
I’d slept on the floor the previous night because Femi’s girlfriend had slept over. I’d woken up broke that morning, hoping the good Lord would provide for me the same way he provided for the sparrow.
Few hours later I was a millionaire.
And I had a job. One I’d enjoy doing. One that would make me more millions.
After we had lunch at an exclusive restaurant in Victoria Island, his driver dropped me off at home. First thing I did was get on my knees and pray. I called my folks and told them I’d finally gotten a good job. I’m sure their celebratory shouts reverberated through the whole neighborhood. Then I called Femi. My guy didn’t know when he squealed for joy. He closed earlier than usual, came home with plenty suya and wine and we celebrated.
After buying all the necessaries, I offered Femi a quarter of the balance – which was more than his salary for 3 months. He refused to collect it at first but I insisted. He had sheltered and fed me for 4 months without complaints so he had to enjoy my breakthrough with me. It was only right.
The social media strategizing began. I did plenty research on branding – majoring on politics, took a few courses, created content and publishing pattern for all his social accounts, and generally put him in the internet limelight.
The campaign office was opened for business a few months after we met and the team started work. My workaholic nature saw me doing more than the social media strategist job I was hired for. I joined the bigger media team, generated ideas and created so much content, the overall campaign manager who was also the media team lead handed the unit over to me and focused more on grassroots mobilization.
The elections finally arrived. The primaries was a hard fought battle but we clinched the ticket. And when Election Day finally came, we won. Resoundingly!!
Governor Anthony Okpa made me his Special Adviser on Media and Strategy immediately after he was sworn in. It was the first time a non-indigene would hold a political position in that state.
Bruh, I was balling.
It was at one of the state’s social events that I met Eva Alordiah. I’d listened to her songs and I had this slight crush on her. But seeing her perform in person was different. I knew I wanted her immediately. She was ravishingly beautiful. And she could rap.
Holy Lord.
After her performance I asked that she take a picture with Gov Anthony and I. Then I practically begged her to have dinner with me sometime. She agreed, and, a few weeks and many conversations later, we did.
We connected, we bonded on a covalent level. I don’t know if she felt it too, but I was already in love with her. It was a beautiful evening and we agreed to do it again.
On the drive back home, we sat in the back. She said she was cold so I put my arm around her and drew her closer. She put her head on my shoulder and I stroked her hair. After a while she looked up, into my eyes. I could see the desire in her eyes as light from oncoming traffic illuminated them. I leaned in and kis….
“Oga we don reach…” he said.
How dare my driver interrupt me now of all times? How dare he?
“Oga you no wan come down again?” he said again, tapping me. I opened my eyes, furious.
“What is wro…” I was growling, when I noticed my environs. I wasn’t in the Porsche Cayenne. I was in a bus. Eva wasn’t there; in her place was the bus driver. The disorientation was total. Then I came round. I looked at the driver again. “Where are we?” I asked
“Maza Maza,” he replied. “Which kain sleep you dey sleep sef? Tse-tse fly bite you? Everybody don go down, na only you dey motor….”
I remembered the last time I was awake… we had just entered the Benin – Ore road.
It was all a dream. And I had passed my busstop.
I wanted to cry. But instead, I carried my ‘polythene bag’, came down and started looking for a bus that would take me back to Oshodi.
It was all a dream. I still had my ‘polythene bag’, but this time I also had a laptop, an internet connection, and a big, beautiful dream:
“I will run this town in 5 years, so help me God!”

moscobabs:
olawalebabs, Richiez, Fynestboi,lalasticlala

This was on front page few days back