₦airaland Forum

Welcome, Guest: Join Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / New
Stats: 2,022,196 members, 4,310,551 topics. Date: Thursday, 21 June 2018 at 02:56 PM

Search

 

(0) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (of 20 pages)

Politics / Re: Akwa Ibom Unemployment Rate Exaggerated – Official by SergiusOgun2019(m): 2:39pm
TonyeBarcanista:
God will grant him success... APC is dead already
He has and willm

With Sen Markarfi, when they give us fair voting ground devoid of any sort compromising attitude, we'll win them in a landsliding victory.



BARR, HON SERGIUS OSEASOCHIE OGUN FOR 2019
Crime / The Shiite Boys Dares The Goverment; Lynched A Policeman In Kaduna[grapic IMAGE] by FreelanceRebel: 2:31pm
The Shiite boys Dares the Government; Lynched a Policeman in Kaduna.

I just receive this message on Whatsapp attached with a picture of a dead police who seem to have being beating or stone to death.
The Upraising started since yesterday according to the person who sent me the message on Whatsapp.

The incident occurred at Ahmadu Bello Way, Kaduna

CC: Lalasticlala

Politics / Re: Akwa Ibom Unemployment Rate Exaggerated – Official by TonyeBarcanista(m): 2:29pm
SergiusOgun2019:
We get our PVC, e dey ever ready to work with our rationality to vote in persons wey dey for our interest.



BARR, HON SERGIUS OSEASOCHIE OGUN FOR 2019
God will grant him success... APC is dead already
Politics / Re: Osinbajo Returns To Ekiti, Apologises To Monarchs For Not Paying Homage by sirpedro(m): 2:23pm
emmyt2:
Osinbanjo an intelligent man.
I call him the epitome of intelligence.
May you never run out of idea's.
And May Almighty God revive your dead brain. Oloshi omo Ale
Culture / Re: Oba Of Benin Visits Ooni Of Ife by Moorish: 1:47pm
Peep this Bros

3 Men

3 peoples

Bayajidda the north

Odduduwa the west

Nri the father of the east

Let’s unite, dead the beef

Peace
Education / Secondary School Girl Comits Suicide,After Disagreement With Her Mum In Zimbabwe by Groovenaija360(m): 1:46pm
A FORM One pupil at Pumula High School in Bulawayo allegedly committed suicide by hanging yesterday, the third such incident in Bulawayo this term.

Brightness Thebe (15) from Magwegwe West suburb had not been attending lessons prior to her hanging.

Bulawayo Metropolitan Provincial police spokesperson, Inspector Precious Simango confirmed the incident. “We received a case of sudden death by hanging of a 15-year-old female. She had a misunderstanding with her mother following her refusal to attend school leading to the mother beating her up,” said Insp Simango.

She said while at work yesterday, the mother received information that her daughter had hanged herself.

“The body was discovered by a tenant hanging from a mango tree in their yard, said Insp Simango.

Ms Zenzele Dlamini, an employee at Hillside Teachers College, said her daughter had been refusing to attend school since last term.

“Last term, the school authorities called me over that matter. I took her to my sister’s place in Makokoba suburb where we counselled her on the importance of education. It seems this did not change her attitude towards school and just last week the school authorities called me again. This time teachers said she had been absent for eight days,” she said.

Ms Dlamini said on Tuesday she once again persuaded her daughter to attend school and she thought everything was fine. “This morning I actually woke her up as usual to lock the doors as I left for work. At around 8AM, I received a phone call informing me that Brightness was dead. She had hanged herself.”

>>> https://groovenaija360.com.ng/primary-school-girl-commits-suicide-after-disagreement-with-her-mum-in-zimbabwe/

Family / Re: Chimamanda Adichie: A Crude Brand Of Feminism by Ziggylady(f): 1:44pm
The Moderators in this section are dead....if they were alive,more than half of the posts on this thread would have been hidden,and the posters banned for a long time.
Satellite TV Technology / Re: Solar Energy, A Complement To FTA by dapsyra(m): 1:25pm
mcTrinity:
IS "ROY SOLAR" THAT BAD

For some weeks now, there's been some bad reviews on Roy Solar charge controller....


well, I won't outrightly say it is good or bad. Nevertheless, I have 2 Roy solar I've been using going to 3 years now and no issues whatsoever.

see attached pictures. one is for East facing panels and the other for west facing panels. the CCs always absorbs at 14.4, boost charge at 13.8 and floats at 13.5v. And the two are almost always at synch, in terms of their reading (1st pic)

I have a client that was using Roy solar on 8 batteries with 4 pcs of Mpower 250w panels on a 48v system. Back then, I've seen about 21A on a sunny day. Though after 2 years he upgraded to 16panels with MPPT. for those two years, the ROY served him and his batteries aren't dead. Have 2 more clients like that.

oga Niyi made a vital point in his last reply about "Source"
As long as RE is concerned and as long as this nation is concerned, substandard and rebranded products are everywhere. it boils down on your source.

I knew a man that, after 8 years, changed his Deka 12v/210Ah battery. he still bought Deka and after 5 months he said I should come and help him check his batteries that they are no longer performing well. Two of his 6 batteries (24v system) have deviated.
he's using magnum MS4324.
same load, same inverter, same usage...

I once shared on this forum how I bought original sunshine panels and few months after that I bought another set for upgrade only to discover the new ones were rubbish. same brand, same nameplate, same size... different cable and different connection box

SOURCE!!!

so those that complain about the Roy, I believe, they must have gotten a fake one. I don't know why it didn't serve them.

it's been serving me and just last 3 months, I dumped the mopower 900VA/12v for mopower 1600va/24v. changed to 24v system and the same ROY controllers are serving. just waiting for the batteries to die so I can move to 48v,,, with MPPT of course (Lolz)


so Vulcan,
like someone advised, read up on MPPT and PWM... the gurus here have explicitly and argumentatively explained their differences. it's either you google their differences or you start going back on the pages and actually read their practical differences based on various experiences.

But anytime, anyday MPPT rules...

In summary, I'm not saying you should go for Roy or not go for Roy. just sharing my PERSONAL experience.

cheers

To buttress your points, I have Roy Solar panels that I have been using for about three years and they are performing like champions. My daily harvest is at par or even better than from so called premium brands.
Sports / Re: Romelu Lukaku: We Were So Poor Mother Borrowed Bread For Us To Eat by habeeb246(m): 1:23pm
FlirtyKaren:
Romelu Lukaku, who is currently representing Belgium at the ongoing FIFA World Cup in Russia, has shared a very emotional story about his childhood and how his family lived in abject poverty.

In an interview with The Players Tribune, Lukaku talked about his struggle growing up as a black footballer in Belgium and how he vowed to be the bet player ever in the country.

Read his full emotional story below:

"I remember the exact moment I knew we were broke. I can still picture my mum at the refrigerator and the look on her face.

I was six years old, and I came home for lunch during our break at school. My mum had the same thing on the menu every single day: Bread and milk. When you’re a kid, you don’t even think about it. But I guess that’s what we could afford.

Then this one day I came home, and I walked into the kitchen, and I saw my mum at the refrigerator with the box of milk, like normal. But this time she was mixing something in with it. She was shaking it all up, you know? I didn’t understand what was going on. Then she brought my lunch over to me, and she was smiling like everything was cool. But I realized right away what was going on.

She was mixing water in with the milk. We didn’t have enough money to make it last the whole week. We were broke. Not just poor, but broke.

My father had been a pro footballer, but he was at the end of his career and the money was all gone. The first thing to go was the cable TV. No more football. No more Match of the Day. No signal.

Then I’d come home at night and the lights would be shut off. No electricity for two, three weeks at a time.

Then I’d want to take a bath, and there would be no hot water. My mum would heat up a kettle on the stove, and I’d stand in the shower splashing the warm water on top of my head with a cup.

There were even times when my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. The bakers knew me and my little brother, so they’d let her take a loaf of bread on Monday and pay them back on Friday.

I knew we were struggling. But when she was mixing in water with the milk, I realized it was over, you know what I mean? This was our life.


I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want her to stress. I just ate my lunch. But I swear to God, I made a promise to myself that day. It was like somebody snapped their fingers and woke me up. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I was going to do.

I couldn’t see my mother living like that. Nah, nah, nah. I couldn’t have that.

People in football love to talk about mental strength. Well, I’m the strongest dude you’re ever going to meet. Because I remember sitting in the dark with my brother and my mom, saying our prayers, and thinking, believing, knowing … it’s going to happen.

I kept my promise to myself for a while. But then some days I’d come home from school and find my mum crying. So I finally told her one day, “Mum, it’s gonna change. You’ll see. I’m going to play football for Anderlecht, and it’s going to happen soon. We’ll be good. You won’t have to worry anymore.”

I was six.

I asked my father, “When can you start playing professional football?”

He said, “Sixteen.”

I said, “O.K., sixteen then.”

It was going to happen. Period.

Let me tell you something — every game I ever played was a Final. When I played in the park, it was a Final. When I played during break in kindergarten, it was a Final. I’m dead-ass serious. I used to try to tear the cover off the ball every time I shot it. Full power. We weren’t hitting R1, bro. No finesse shot. I didn’t have the new FIFA. I didn’t have a Playstation. I wasn’t playing around. I was trying to kill you.

When I started growing taller, some of the teachers and the parents would be stressing me. I’ll never forget the first time I heard one of the adults say, “Hey, how old are you? What year were you born?”

I’m like, What? Are you serious?

When I was 11 years old, I was playing for the Lièrse youth team, and one of the parents from the other team literally tried to stop me from going on the pitch. He was like, “How old is this kid? Where is his I.D.? Where is he from?”

I thought, Where am I from? What? I was born in Antwerp. I’m from Belgium.

My dad wasn’t there, because he didn’t have a car to drive to my away games. I was all alone, and I had to stand up for myself. I went and got my I.D. from my bag and showed it to all the parents, and they were passing it around inspecting it, and I remember the blood just rushing through me … and I thought, “Oh, I’m gonna kill your son even more now. I was already going to kill him, but now I’m gonna destroy him. You’re gonna drive the boy home crying now.”

I wanted to be the best footballer in Belgian history. That was my goal. Not good. Not great. The best. I played with so much anger, because of a lot of things … because of the rats running around in our apartment … because I couldn’t watch the Champions League … because of how the other parents used to look at me.

I was on a mission.

When I was 12, I scored 76 goals in 34 games.

I scored them all wearing my dad’s shoes. Once our feet got to be the same size, we used to share.

One day I called up my grandfather — my mum’s dad. He was one of the most important people in my life. He was my connection back to Congo, where my mum and dad are from. So I was on the phone with him one day, and I said, “Yeah, I’m doing really well. I scored 76 goals, and we won the league. The big teams are noticing me.”

And usually, he always wanted to hear about my football. But this time it was strange. He said, “Yeah, Rom. Yeah, that’s great. But can you do me a favor?”

I said, “Yeah, what is it?”

He said, “Can you look after my daughter, please?”

I remember being so confused. Like, what’s Grandad on about?

I said, “Mum? Yeah, we’re cool. We’re O.K.”

He said, “No, promise me. Can you promise me? Just look after my daughter. Just look after her for me, O.K.?”

I said, “Yeah, Granddad. I got it. I promise you.”

Five days later he passed away. And then I understood what he really meant.

It makes me so sad to think about, because I just wish that he could have lived another four years to see me play for Anderlecht. To see that I kept my promise, you know? To see that everything was going to be O.K.

I told my mum that I would make it at 16.

I was late by 11 days.

May 24, 2009.

The playoff final. Anderlecht vs. Standard Liège.

Lukaku: To me, every game was a final.

That was the craziest day of my life. But we have to back up for a minute. Because at the start of the season, I was barely playing for the Anderlecht U-19s. The coach had me coming off the bench. I’m like, “How the hell am I going to sign a pro contract on my 16th birthday if I’m still on the bench for the U-19s?”

So I made a bet with our coach.

I told him, “I’ll guarantee you something. If you actually play me, I’m going to score 25 goals by December.”

He laughed. He literally laughed at me.

I said, “Let’s make a bet then.”

He said, “O.K., but if you don’t score 25 by December, you’re going to the bench.”

I said, “Fine, but if I win, you’re going to clean all the minivans that take the players home from training.”

He said, “O.K., it’s a deal.”

I said, “And one more thing. You have to make pancakes for us every day.”

He said, “O.K., fine.”

That was the dumbest bet that man ever made.

I had 25 by November. We were eating pancakes before Christmas, bro.

Let that be a lesson. You don’t play around with a boy who’s hungry!

I signed my pro contract with Anderlecht on my birthday, May 13. Went straight out and bought the new FIFA and a cable package. It was already the end of the season, so I was at home chilling. But the Belgian league was crazy that year, because Anderlecht and Standard Liege had finished tied on points. So there was a two-leg playoff to decide the title.

During the first leg, I’m at home watching on TV like a fan.

Then the day before the second leg, I get a phone call from the coach of the reserves.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rom. What are you doing?”

“About to go play football in the park.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Pack your bags. Right now.”

“What? What did I do?”

“No, no, no. You need to get to the stadium right now. The first team wants you now.”

“Yo …. What?! Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Come now.”

I literally sprinted into my dad’s bedroom and was like, “Yo! Get your ass up right now! We gotta go, man!”

He’s like, “Huh? What? Go where?”

I’m like, “ANDERLECHT, MAN.”

I’ll never forget, I showed up to the stadium, and I like pretty much ran into the dressing room and the kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?”

And I said, “Give me number 10.”

The kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?” And I said, “Give me number 10.”
Hahahaha! I don’t know. I was too young to be scared I guess.

He was like, “Academy players have to take 30 and above.”

I said, “O.K., well, three plus six equals nine, and that’s a cool number, so give me 36.”

That night at the hotel, the senior players made me sing a song for them at dinner. I can’t even remember what I picked. My head was spinning.

The next morning, my friend literally knocked on the door of my house to see if I wanted to play football and my mum was like, “He’s out playing.”

My friend said, “Playing where?”

She said, “The final.”

We got off the bus at the stadium, and every single player walked in wearing a cool suit. Except me. I came off the bus wearing a terrible tracksuit, and all the TV cameras were right in my face. The walk to the locker room was like 300 meters. Maybe a three-minute walk. As soon as I put my foot in the locker room, my phone starts blowing up. Everybody had seen me on TV. I had 25 messages in three minutes. My friends were going crazy.

“Bro?! WHY ARE YOU AT THE GAME?!”

“Rom, what is happening? WHY ARE YOU ON TV?”

The only person I texted back was my best friend. I said, “Bro, I don’t know if I’m gonna play. I don’t know what’s going on. But just keep watching the TV.”

In the 63rd minute, the manager subbed me on.

I ran out onto the field for Anderlecht at 16 years and 11 days old.

We lost the final that day, but I was already in heaven. I made good on my promise to my mother and to my grandad. That was the moment I knew we were gonna be O.K.

The next season, I was still finishing up my last year of high school and playing in the Europa League at the same time. I used to have to take a big bag to school so I could catch a flight in the afternoon. We won the league by a mile, and I finished second for African Player of the Year. It was just … crazy.

I actually expected all that to happen, but maybe not so fast. All of sudden, the media was building me up, and putting all these expectations on me. Especially with the national team. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t playing well for Belgium. It wasn’t working out.

But, yo — come on. I was 17! 18! 19!

When things were going well, I was reading newspapers articles and they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker.

When things weren’t going well, they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker of Congolese descent.

If you don’t like the way I play, that’s fine. But I was born here. I grew up in Antwerp, and Liège and Brussels. I dreamed of playing for Anderlecht. I dreamed of being Vincent Kompany. I’ll start a sentence in French and finish it in Dutch, and I’ll throw in some Spanish or Portuguese or Lingala, depending on what neighborhood we’re in.

I’m Belgian.

We’re all Belgian. That’s what makes this country cool, right?

I don’t know why some people in my own country want to see me fail. I really don’t. When I went to Chelsea and I wasn’t playing, I heard them laughing at me. When I got loaned out to West Brom, I heard them laughing at me.

But it’s cool. Those people weren’t with me when we were pouring water in our cereal. If you weren’t with me when I had nothing, then you can’t really understand me.

You know what’s funny? I missed 10 years of Champions League football when I was a kid. We never could afford it. I would come into school and all the kids would be talking about the final, and I’d have no idea what happened. I remember back in 2002, when Madrid played Leverkusen, everybody was like, “The volley! Oh my God, the volley!”

I had to pretend like I knew what they were talking about.

Two weeks later, we were sitting in computer class, and one of my friends downloaded the video off the Internet, and I finally saw Zidane smash it into the top corner with his left.

That summer, I went over to his house so I could watch Ronaldo Fenomeno in the World Cup Final. Everything else from that tournament is just a story I heard from the kids at school.

Ha! I remember I had holes in my shoes in 2002. Big holes.

Twelve years later, I was playing in the World Cup.

Now I’m about to play in another World Cup, and you know what? I’m going to remember to have fun this time. Life is too short for the stress and the drama. People can say whatever they want about our team, and about me.

Man, listen — when we were kids, we couldn’t even afford to watch Thierry Henry on Match of the Day! Now I’m learning from him every day with the national team. I’m standing with the legend, in the flesh, and he’s telling me all about how to run into space like he used to do. Thierry might be the only guy in the world who watches more football than me. We debate everything. We’re sitting around and having debates about German second division football.

I’m like, “Thierry, have you seen the Fortuna Düsseldorf setup, though?”

He’s like, “Don’t be silly. Yes, of course.”

That’s the coolest thing in the world, to me.

I just really, really wish my grandad was around to witness this.

I’m not talking about the Premier League.

Not Manchester United.

Not the Champions League.

Not the World Cups.

That’s not what I mean. I just wish he was around to see the life we have now. I wish I could have one more phone call with him, and I could let him know

“See? I told you. Your daughter is OK. No more rats in the apartment. No more sleeping on the floor. No more stress. We’re good now. We’re good …

They don’t have to check the I.D. any more. They know our name.”

https://lailasnews.com/we-were-so-poor-mother-borrowed-bread-for-us-to-eat-romelu-lukaku/

. I just needed to quote this
Religion / PMCH. Mountain Of Fire & Miracles Ministries. MFM. July 2018 Prayers On Water. by bummyla(m): 1:14pm
PMCH. Mountain Of Fire & Miracles Ministries. MFM. July 2018 Power Must Change Hands. Water of Fire Service. Prayers On Water.




1. My Father, I thank You for creating water as part of Your mysterious creation. Thank You Lord, because water is a symbol of the Holy Spirit. Water washes, revives, satisfies, refreshes, maintains, purifies and it is growth-producing.
2. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I sanctify this water, in Jesus’ name.
3. O Lord, arise by Your resurrection power and breathe upon this body of water, in Jesus’ name.
4. Holy Ghost fire, overshadow this body of water and convert it to divine healing and creative water, in the name of Jesus.
5. Power of Jehovah, trouble this water and convert it to demon-crushing water, in Jesus’ name.
6. O Thou, who sweetened the water of Marah, convert this water to divine antibiotics and vitamins, in the name of Jesus.
7. Lord Jesus, let every particle of this water carry unquenchable fire that will disgrace every plantation of darkness in my blood and the whole of my body, in the name of Jesus.
8. Lord Jesus, let this water challenge every hidden poison in my body and push it out by fire and by force, in the name of Jesus.
9. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the power of the living waters mix with it and let it renew my youth like the eagle’s, in the name of Jesus.
10. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the spirit of wisdom, rest upon my life, in Jesus’ name.
11. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the spirit of understanding, rest upon this my life, in the name of Jesus.
12. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the spirit of counsel and might, rest upon my life, in the name of Jesus.
13. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the spirit of knowledge, rest upon my life, in Jesus’ name.
14. Father Lord, as I drink this water, let the spirit of the fear of the Lord, rest upon my life, in the name of Jesus.
15. Lord, as I drink this water, let it wash away every plantation of darkness in my life, in the name of Jesus.
16. Father Lord, let this water of fire wipe away every sorrow in my life, in the name of Jesus.
17. Father Lord, let this water of fire wipe away every bitter water troubling my life, in Jesus’ name.
18. You this water of fire, as you enter into my system, destroy every plantation of the enemy, in the name of Jesus.
19. Any power, opposing the purpose of God for my life be shifted away by this water of fire, in the name of Jesus.
20. Every power opposing divine agenda for my life, power and fire of God inside this water, dismantle it, in the name of Jesus.
21. O God, arise and let this water scatter every horn of darkness planted against my life, in the name of Jesus.
22. Every altar mounted against my destiny in my environment, you this water of fire, burn it to ashes, in the name of Jesus.
23. O God, arise and use this water to purge sickness out of my life, in the name of Jesus.
24. O God, arise and use this water to purge infirmity out of my life, in the name of Jesus.
25. O God, arise and use this water to purge weakness out of my life, in the name of Jesus.
26. Every sickness unto death, be melted away by this water of fire, in the name of Jesus.
27. Any dead organ in my body, come alive when you make contact with this water of fire, in the name of Jesus.
28. Father, let this water of fire dismantle stubborn wickedness and stubborn witchcraft in my environment, in the name of Jesus.

https://bummyla.com/2018/06/21/pmch-mountain-of-fire-miracles-ministries-mfm-july-2018-power-must-change-hands-water-of-fire-service-prayers-on-water/
Celebrities / Xxxtentacion's Mum Says That A Suspect Has Been Arrested For His Murder by CastedGist: 1:10pm
GistMore.com

The mother of slain rapper XXXTentacion claims someone has been arrested for the murder of her son who was shot dead on Monday In Florida.

The rapper, whose real name was Jahseh Dwayne Onfroy, 20, was sitting in his car after exiting a motorcycle dealership store when two masked men gunned him down. Police immediately launched a manhunt, telling people they were hunting for "black males wearing hoodies" and said that the "shooter was wearing a red mask".

A video has now surfaced online, which reportedly shows the star's mother telling a crowd of people that someone has been arrested. The video claims to show the rapper's mum celebrating an arrest. They appear to be at a vigil for XXXTentacion when the woman excitedly shares the news with the crowd.


GISTMORE :: http://www.gistmore.com/xxxtentacions-mum-says-suspect-arrested-murder

Religion / TH REALITY OF Masturbation......please Read This! by FreshGreen: 1:06pm
TH REALITY OF MASTURBATION......Please read this!
To start with, masturbation is self service by which one derives pleasure, it's usually performed using the hands, fingers, everyday objects, or dedicated intimacy gadgets. So the question: Is it sinful for a child of God to masturbate? The sincere and simple answer is that, it is biblically sinful based on these three points:

(1) IT'S DISHONORING YOUR BODY.
Pastors and preachers who claim that masturbation is not a sin are the same people who say a godly woman can dress any how; their base is that God's is not concern about what you do with your body, watch out! Such people believe God is only after your mind or your heart, and your body is none of His business, you can dress half Unclad as a woman, you can wear earrings as a man, perm your hair like woman; you can smoke, drink, it is your body, normal habit, and none of God's business.

Such teaching of your body is not God's business is satanic and unbiblical. God is interested in your body as well as your soul, God wants you to keep your heart holy as well as your body. Romans 12:1, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service." Your heart is the throne of God, and your body is His temple; when you defile God's temple - your body - with masturbation or any uncleanness, you expose yourself to God's destruction.

1 Corinthians 3: 16, 17, "Do you not know that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? If anyone defiles the temple of God, God will destroy him. For the temple of God is holy, which temple you are." prostate cancer

(2) IT'S SEXUAL IMMORALITY
Any action by which one derives sexual pleasure - orgasm - apart from, between husband and wife, such is sexual immorality. There are several sexual immoralities like fornication, adultery, masturbation, homosexuality, etc. Those who involve in masturbation before or after marriage are immoral people before God. 1 Corinthians 5:9, "I wrote to you in my epistle not to keep company with sexually immoral people."

(3) IT'S A SECRET SIN
It's something usually done in secret, if after you dedicate your life to Jesus. You can't have fellow children of God in the same room and you begin to masturbate. As Christian brother, you can snore when other brothers are with you in the same while while you sleep, but you can masturbate when you know other Christian people are with you, the same thing with a sister. You can sleep or snore while people are around, but you can't masturbate while good and godly people are around, you can't do that at a Christian camp when you are aware of others around.

THE REALITY
Masturbation is generated through immoral imaginations and thoughts, it is committing the sexual immorality in your mind and reflecting on your body.

Another reality about masturbation, it is romancing with demon! Scary but a simple truth. Behind every sin is a demon, when a demon of sexual immorality is romancing with a man or woman, the person will be filled with immoral pictures in their minds and reacting to those immoral thought brings ejaculation.

Some scientists say masturbation is good for health, that it prevents prostate cancer, the reality of this is that any scientific prove that encourages sin is satanic. A child of God is controlled by the unchanging word of God through the Spirit of God, and not by changing science manipulated by Satan to confuse and mislead many.

NO PRETENSE!
You can't finish masturbate and you feel free in God's presence, your conscience will tell you something is wrong, that you are defiled. If you now feel no guilt in masturbating, it means you have silenced or killed your conscience, since the Spirit of God will not continue to strive with a man, but you know it wasn't like that at the initial.

THREE WAYS OUT!
Masturbation is satanic anchor by which he uses to grip souls under his bondage. The solution is not to say it is not a sin, the solution is not marriage or attractive spouse, that never solve problem of lust.

The solutions are (1) You repent and rededicate your life to Jesus by admitting it as a sin against God and ready to forsake it. You must repent from all sins and surrender, you can not isolate masturbation. (2) You watch out against it, you detach yourself from immoral materials, movies, music and thoughts. Resist the devil when he brings the pressure on you to masturbate; just hold the feeling and resist the devil, he can't stay long, he will flee. It will come over you as if you can't resist it, but that is not true, you just hold it, don't torch and don't think about. It is a sin and you don't want to bring yourself under the bondage anymore. The more you resist and overcome the feeling, the more you are strong, keep watching, he can go and come after some months, don't relax but resist. (3) Pray about it. You must take it to God in your daily prayer to conquer the sinful notion and nature; pray for grace and strength to resist, to discipline your body and keep it under the Spirit of God.

1 Corinthians 9:27
But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified.

The Reason
The reason why you still fall back into masturbation or any sin after you are saved is because "You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin." Hebrews 12:4. Let me ask you, if you hear that anyone that masturbates will fall down and die immediately, and you see people doing it and falling dead, will you still do it when the pressure comes? I'm sure the answer is capital no, you will not want to kill yourself because of 5 minutes dirty masturbation, no matter how Satan pushes you, you will not want to masturbate and die. That is it! You must resist the devil to bloodshed. No excuse for living under the bondage of masturbation when Jesus has set you free.

If you will like to surrender your life to Jesus, rededicate your life to Jesus, please click the link
http://www.facebook.com/notes/revelation-of-truth-evangelical-ministries-rtem/how-can-i-be-saved/270674586372252

You can also contact us on email or phone for prayer, counsel or if you need biblical enlightenment on personal issues:

Revelation of Truth Evangelical Ministries, RTEM
Our Email: rtemoutreaches@yahoo.com
Our Tel: (+234) (0)803 924 9751
Our website: rtemoutreach.org
Literature / Grab These Brittle Paper Books For Half Their Original Prices by ekaromail: 1:05pm
Brittle Paper is having a discount sale on all of their books! This price slash will only be available for a few days. Rush down to Okadabooks now, and secure a copy.

These books will keep you relaxed, entertained, inspired and motivated all through the week and beyond. See them below:


1. The Night My dead Girlfriend Called by Feyisayo Anjorin

How do you feel when your girlfriend dies? And when you think it’s time to move on, you get a call from her?

Well, Badoo found himself in that shoe. He kept receiving calls from his late girlfriend at bedtime, as was their routine while she was still alive

What do these phone calls mean? And what will Badoo do? Well, it’s better you find out for yourself.


Click the link below to see all the books - https://blog.okadabooks.com/brittle-paper-have-slashed-their-book-prices/

Crime / Re: Sambo Hammangabdo Attacked By Hired Assassins As He Kills One (Graphic Photos) by Bayajidda1: 12:55pm
CastedDude:
The dethroned district head of Mayo-Selbe in Taraba state, Alhaji Sambo Hammangabdo (Jauro) miraculously cheated death after he was brutally butchered by hired assassins who reportedly attacked him at his residence.

According to a report by Mustapha, the community leader was said to have gallantly fought the four hoodlums during the attack and killed one in the process as he was brutally butchered and left for dead by three others who later fled the scene.

He was later rushed to the hospital where he was treated and is recuperating.

Source; https://www.nationalhelm.co/2018/06/alhaji-sambo-hammangabdo-attacked-by-assassins-in-taraba.html

Their names have given them out.

They are about to grab the lands belonging to the natives, hence this action thriller.

Next episode will see the Federal Government deploying troops to aid the Fulanis in this their inordinate quest for land grabbing.

Buhari/Fulani herdsmen terrorists Presidency is Nigeria's greatest undoing.

1 Like 1 Share

Crime / Re: Men And Women Selling Alcohol And Dog Meat Arrested By SARS In Borno. Photos by PrinxArthur1(m): 12:53pm
CastedDude:
Yesterday, security operatives who were led by the Attorney general and Commissioner for Justice Barr Kaka Shehu Lawan and commissioner for Land and survey Borno state Hon. Sugun Mai Mele and other Borno state officials, arrested some men and women in Galadima area of Maiduguri, Borno state capital.

Those arrested were said to have been caught selling illegal drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and also dead dog and donkey meat despite the guest houses in the area already demolished.

The suspects were taking into custody by the operatives of the Special Anti Robbery Squad (SARS).

Source; https://www.nationalhelm.co/2018/06/men-and-women-selling-alcohol-and-dog-meat-arrested-by-sars-in-borno-photos.html
what crime did they commit according to Nigerian constitution?
Celebrities / Controversial Actress Cossy Beaten Up By Her Neighbor In Lagos (graphic Photos) by moseghe: 12:53pm
Nollywood actress Cossy Ojiakor's bid to rescue a woman from her husband has backfired as she was allegedly beaten in the process.

According to the controversial actress, her neighbour - Mr Matin Obinka Maruche, was beating his wife and she tried to mediate, only for things to end up awry for her.

She was left with wounds and blisters. Her story...

"This is Mr Matin Obinka Maruche, he deals on Italian mens wares and also own the plaza where a bank and also @kaffydance studio somewhere in badore, Ajah. Martin is an uneducated big boy from Agulu Uzoigbo in Anambra state. He maybe an ideal husband material hahahhaha, tall dark and handsome he also owns assorted property in Lagos. and unfortunately is also my neighbor.


He is so fond of beating up his wife at anytime it please him. I also heard crazy stories from his various house girls that u won’t believe, you will just wonder why!!?…

His wife is a drop dead gorgeous lady. Her hips will make most woman go green with envy. I remember the night he pushed her down the stairs. Well…. Tonight another

http://www.worldgistentertainment.com/2018/06/controversial-actress-cossy-beaten-up.html

Crime / Re: Lady's Corpse Dumped On The Road In Anambra With A Murder Note (Photos) by Tsarpyth: 12:51pm
OboOlora:
Foolish Nigerian police will rush to the wife’s house to arrest her and detain her for monthsssss without thinking:

1)Maybe it’s the BF of the dead lady that killed her and white the note to implicate the wife of the married man

2)Maybe they should analyze the ink used as well as the handwriting on that piece of paper

3)Maybe they should form a barricade before evidence is tampered with

Oh sorry, it happened in Nigeria.

..... U are the only one that has typed something sensible...
Literature / Re: The Hole In The Wall by souloho19(m): 12:50pm
THE MORNING AFTER



::::::::::::::::::

?? ??

*5:15am

"Driver which kain thing be this? for the ticket the last bustop says maza-maza now you dey telling us you'd be stopping at jibowo park?"
A man from the front complained murdering english in the process.

They were finally in Lagos and she hadn't slept a wink. Not even when the nosy neighbour had fallen asleep and resumed with the head rolling.

She didn't mind the destination change. All these transport companies were notorious for it afterall. At the park they'd promise to drive you to venus but on the road it becomes another story. plus the baby was stirring more often. She would be awake soon and she planned to be home before then. But this woman.....

She still had her silenced pistol but she couldn't just shoot the woman in front of everybody....or could she?

No...that would be crazy, but she had a feeling the woman would be heading to the police station...and she couldn't let that happen. It was to her advantage that they still thought she was in Benue and a report about a woman with a stolen baby arriving Lagos would definitely point the investigators back to lagos. And she wasn't ready for that yet. She was in full control and everything would happen only when she wanted it to.

She chewed over the situation as the bus sped past Ojodu Berger b/stop.


:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


The Obasi residence....


Alli no Joy, Utebo and both twin boys were up however Martha and Soma-Utebo's three year old daughter were still conked out.

Alli no joy stood in the doorway observing his wife. Even when Tonye had come and explained everything to him, he still found it hard to believe.
Fome?

They had been nothing but kind to Fome, when they found out about her death they had been genuinely heart broken. Now this....two years later she does this! The Fome he remembered wasn't violent or wicked.

The only silver lining was that she was in benue, meaning his grand daughter was near by and Alli was going to find her. He had let go of his rakish ways a long time ago and even stopped gambling, focusing on the ram fights instead. But right now he literally had no joy. His wife could very well have been killed! even now he studied her chest till he noticed the soft rise and fall sign of respiration. He turned away reluctantly and went to the parlour.

The agent called Buzz was tied to a chair. His eyes were swollen shut and his face was red from the multiple backhand slaps he had received.
He was still unconscious.

Alli had beat the poo out of him and he was not even satisfied. It had taken just a few blows and the agent had immediately told them were the bug was: behind the lamp holder. It would have been almost impossible to locate it otherwise. Tonye crushed the little chip with her heels then threw the broken pieces outside.

Alli tried calling the number the kidnapper had used to call Buzz earlier but the phone was switched off.
It was helpless and useless sitting around the house waiting for a ransom call he feared would never come.
What he wanted to do right now was take the useless Buzz whatever outside and slaughter him like a goat. Guns were not his thing. He preferred a good dagger and back in the day he had been an excellent knife thrower. Although he hardly practiced the skill. His fists had always been enough.
But there was the slight hope that the man was romantically involved with the kidnapper and could be used as some sort of leverage. So Alli no joy could only do what he did best; head out to the streets. There had to be some underground rumour that would shed some light on the kidnapper. There was always 'word on the street'

The problem was his wife. He couldn't leave her when she hadn't woken up. He wouldn't be able to concentrate. He was already filled with dread that she may slip(sleep) into a coma and never wake up...

:::::::::


Tonye rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"thanks" she recieved the cup of coffee Utebo handed to her. She refused the milk, just sugar and the nes cafe in boiling water. She needed the caffein to stay sharp or atleast to stay awake.
"That reminds me....was there anything you all ate that Olivia didn't?" she asked

Utebo's eyes were puffy red and tired still she was still in shock and frowned in thought "no...I don't think we even had dinner, apart from Dad that had swallow"

"how about earlier in the day...maybe a snack?"

"Oh my God...."

"what is it?"

"There was this ice cream lady, we all bought ice cream only Olivia didn't want one and the woman kept insisting she have one but she didn't."

"hmmmm.....can you remember what she looked like?"


:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Bigelow entered his brother's house few minutes past seven. The same house he had arrived less than 24 hours ago and led the owner to his death. The bullet had been meant for him. He sat down and closed his eyes, thinking.
He was going to go after the assassin and avenge his brother's death. That was something he was going to do even if it was with his dying breath.

The door bell woke him up. He must have dozed off. He got to his feet hurriedly and headed for the door. his fuzzy brain hoping and expecting to see Tom on the other side but there was no one there, just a sharp glimpse of a young boy in a school uniform before he disappeared round the bend.

"Arinze...."he muttered. His brother had complained about the rough rascal yet with a certain fondness when he spoke of the mother.

As if on cue a petite woman approached the hallway. She had a tray in her mitten clad hands and it was steaming hot. She was good looking and Ryan guessed she was in her early 30s. He could sense she and his brother had been involved. The look on her eyes said it all.

"Oh Tom...I heard your bell again, I'm sorry about that, he promised to stop yester- you're not Tom"

"No i'm his brother"

"Where is Tom?"

"He...he....he went to buy newspaper, he'd be back soon" he couldn't bring himself to say what he hadn't fully accepted

she nodded satisfied and the worry erazed from between her brows. "I got his favourite cookies"


::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Rex

A sharp pain woke me and my eyes flew open. The doctor was carrying out physical examination which meant prodding and poking my sides.
"Doctor I need to leave, you need to discharge us please" I pleaded

"I'm afraid I can't do that yet.. Its good news the rib is cracked not broken like I earlier feared but I need to observe you people for some days and be sure your aorta and other major blood vessels is okay"

"Doctor what can you do to make it heal faster?" Bami asked and I glanced at him. It seems the doctor had started the examination with him cause he was wide awake, lying down with his back supported with pilows.

"Open your eyes wide" the doctor instructed

The doctor used the opthalmoscope to shine a bright light into my eyes. "Follow the light" he said
I complied.
In reply to Bami's question he said "I'm afraid there's really nothing we can do, the rib heals naturally....but I can assure you in the next couple of days the pain would lessen drastically and you'd be able to move about better"

"doctor, we don't have 'the next couple of days'" I said "you need to do something...we need to leave today...please"

"But my hands are tied...your body itself makes the rules in this case-"

"doctor my daughter is in danger...with every second I spend here she is in the care of a dangerous kidnapper" I felt like killing the chief for sending his goons to disable us so, I also wished I hadn't scattered his roasted fish earlier.

The doctor was silent as the words sunk in. He looked at me with questions and compassion in his eyes and finally said "okay, I'll see what I can do"

::::::::::::::::::


Short Sam heard the news on the radio. Top government agents had been killed the previous night, it was suspected to be a terrorist attack or an agency duel. The deputy director of the National Intelligence Agency had assured the press that there would be no rest until the killer was found. The names of the dead agents were not given as such information was classified. But it was whispered that a senior official had been killed.

Short Sam was currently sifting through the hard drive of the senior official and the man was basically scum, a corrupt official. Illegal deals were littered everywhere and strange emails. Too bad the man had died before he could answer for his crimes.

One particular email caught his attention.
'Churchhill, have you retrieved the letters? they must be destroyed immediately
_counselor


To which the counselor had replied 'not yet sir, but soon'

The sender of the mail was an anonymous address; and Short Sam dug a little and uncovered the address 'firstminister@gmail
He sighed and scratched his beards. He had a feeling BROTA was out of their league. Overwhelmingly out of depth.

1 Like

Religion / Pope Francis Reveals How Europe Exploits Nigeria, Other African Countries by winningwinner(m): 12:39pm
The Catholic pontiff, Pope Francis has noted that European countries are exploiting Nigeria and other African nations, calling on Europe to invest in ways that benefit the continent more, including sharing mineral resources more equitably.

Speaking with Reuters in a wide-ranging interview, the Holy Father said, “We must invest in Africa, but invest in an orderly way and create employment, not go there to exploit it.”

Explaining how European countries are exploiting Africa, he said, “When a country grants independence to an African country it is from the ground up – but the subsoil is not independent. And then people (outside Africa) complain about hungry Africans coming here. There are injustices there!”

Touching on the reasons for hunger in Africa, the Pope said that, “In our collective unconscious there is something inside us that says Africa must be exploited.”

The pope said Europe needed to focus on education and investment in Africa if it wanted to stem the flow of migrants, which is also an increasingly divisive issue in Italy, where the new governing coalition is taking a hard line.

“And there’s a problem,” he disclosed, adding that, “We send people back to those who have sent them here. They end up in the jails of traffickers”.

However, Human rights lawyer, Femi Falana, SAN, has indicted Western countries as being partakers of treasury looting in Africa.

He added that there had been a massive and accelerated transfer of the looted wealth from the developing world into developed economies.

Falana said this in a paper titled Human Rights Issues Surrounding The Non-Return Of Assets To Countries Of Origin and delivered during the weekend at the Second Forum of the Anti-Corruption Situation Room, organised by the Human and Environmental Development Agenda (HEDA).
He said: “African governments and anti-corruption bodies should stop labeling Africa as a continent of corrupt people. London is the centre of global corruption. The banks of western countries receive and keep stolen wealth from Africa and other developing countries.

“Western governments conveniently hid behind the free movement of capital ideology to fold their arms and turn the other way for many years after the end of the Cold War. This laissez-faire attitude on the part Western leaders encouraged corrupt leaders from Africa to use stolen wealth from their various countries to establish individual presence in their economies; buying shares in major corporations, mansions and other landed properties, yachts, planes, you name it.

“Mr. David Cameron whose family name was listed in the Panama papers had the temerity to label Nigeria as a fantastically corrupt country. The Abacha loot of about $5 billion has been traced to banks in Switzerland, United Kingdom, United States and other western countries. Apart from Switzerland which has reluctantly returned part of the loot no other recipient country has recovered and repatriated a dime to Nigeria.

“Since the Joseph Kabila regime has failed to request for the repatriation of the over $10 billion kept in Zurich banks by the late Mobutu Sese Seko, the Swiss government is planning to return the looted wealth to the family of the former dictator and not to the people of the Democratic Republic of the Congo.


“Throughout the 1970s and much of the 1980s, money leaving Africa into Europe and other parts of the world took an upward trajectory, leaving essential services to rot and decay. What then followed was a serious economic crisis across Africa, which witnessed the International Monetary Fund (IMF) setting up offices inside the various ministries of finance in state after state on the continent, as it tried to help implement a harsh austerity programme to “re-adjust” the various economies.

“Nigeria has lost billions to illicit financial outflow resulting from corruption and embezzlement of funds by public officials. Nigeria’s history as a “fantastically corrupt” country is apparent upon an appraisal of the activities of its past leaders and public officials especially as it relates to conversion of government fund.

“Meanwhile, scores of African “migrants” were finding their ways into Europe, looking for employment and a better life. This alarmed Western governments whose citizens began to make their feelings known by voting in right wing governments promising to put a stop to immigration from so-called “Third World” countries.”

“The idea of untrammelled, free movement of capital economic orthodoxy has long been dead and buried. Western Governments, especially the USA, now freely impose sanctions against countries, for instance, Iran and Russia, even against specific individuals and companies in those countries and elsewhere in the world. Why then have corrupt political leaders in Africa and their stolen wealth not attracted the same level of vigour and scrutiny?

“It is simply that corrupt money emanating from Africa and elsewhere had long been thought of as a ‘victimless’ crime. There is, after all, no one visibly hurt, no building being blown up, no planes flying into high rise buildings or anything of that nature. It was seen as just another typical “Third World” malaise. Well, not any more. There is a nexus between stolen wealth and human rights.

Celebrities / Mamuzee Twins' Mother Is Dead, Daddy Showkey Calls Them Out For Neglecting Her by Uromigod(m): 12:32pm
Daddyshowkey calls out music duo, Mamuzee twins, for neglecting their mom till she died

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27vIywtkIOU

https://www.instagram.com/p/BkR7s3bH2RE/

Literature / Re: Black Maria by LarrySun(m): 12:31pm
“Please don’t kill me,” Peter found himself begging.

“Stand on your feet,” the intruder ordered, he spoke in a whisper. Peter tried to process the voice to know if the man belonged to either of the policemen who had arrested him. At least he deserved to know the identity of the man who was going to take his life. The man wasn’t any of the policemen.

The man placed the muzzle of his gun against Peter’s temple and said, “Get up!”

No matter what hypothesis had been settled upon beforehand, when the cold steel of a gun is pressed against your head, it is only natural for such hypothesis to fly out the window. Peter had initial thought he would not be shot, but he was having another thought right now. He stood up abruptly; he was shaking uncontrollably. It took his a lot of his self-control to stop himself from soiling his trousers.

“Now walk out slowly and quietly,” ordered the man. The gun was aimed towards the back of his head. He didn’t need to be told that his skull would be blown off if he disobeyed. He did exactly as commanded.

He walked out of the cell and the man directed him towards the back exit of the station. He could hardly find his way because everywhere was dark. He was given a key when they reached the door.

“Open it quietly,” the man warned.

Peter wondered why the man was making emphasis on doing this quietly. What was really his intention? Was he planning to silence him without the awareness of the other occupants of the station? This was the man Chief Salami had sent, of course. He had thought the man would have bribed at least two people to do the killing. Anyway, this man here was capable of doing what a number of other people could do. He had a gun – a gun! The man had no intention of killing him in the cell. This was a method he had not thought about initially. The man would make him open the door, ask him to run and then shoot him in the back. This was a neat plan. The report that would be later given was that he had been shot dead while trying to escape from captivity. So this was Chief Salami’s new tactic. The man had wanted his murder to be sensational.

“Step outside,” he was told after the door was opened. The night breeze blew on him and he felt briefly refreshed. At least he wasn’t going to die in that swirling vortex of entropy they called a cell; a four-walled coffin that was also the home of mosquitoes and rats.

He slowly stepped out and the sky stared at them through the eyes of a full moon and a thousand twinkling stars.

“Now listen very carefully to me, Peter Black,” said the man. The night was windy and Peter was beginning to feel cold due to his half-Unclad state. “Time is of the essence. I must not be caught doing this or my life would be over; but I cannot watch you go to prison when I can help it. You may not remember but you have helped me in the past. You helped me in Port-Harcourt, you also indirectly helped me right here in Lagos. Regardless of what you do, I know first-hand that you are a good person. You just can’t stand seeing people suffer when you can help it. That is why I did not expose you the first time. God knows I owe you this. And I hope this is enough for the kindness you showed me in the past. I am setting you free now, but I will not be in a position to do it again if you are caught the second time. I don’t owe you anything after tonight. Like I already said, you are a good person, but only a few people know this. You can show the world what a lovely heart you have. With someone like you, the world can really be a better place, only if you could stop stealing.”

Peter was confused. What the hell is this man talking about? What help is he talking about? Who is he? He slowly turned around to behold his savior. At first, Peter didn’t recognize the man, then with the help of the full moon, he did.

It was the same man he had encountered in the bus when he was coming to Lagos for the first time. This was the police officer who had recognized him and had decided not to reveal his identity to the other policemen in the bus, obviously for a certain good deed he had done the man in the past. Peter could not even recall what he had done. He didn’t think he had ever met the man before or after the bus encounter. The man was releasing him. Letting him go. A policeman was breaking him out of a police station. It was unbelievable!

“I’ll leave this door and your cell door open so that when they wake up they’ll believe you have escaped. They will come after you; how you will remain elusive to them lies with you. I’m hereby washing my hands clean of whatever happens after this moment. But permit me to give you a little advice. Stealing doesn’t pay. If you continue stealing, you shall surely be caught again. No man is too smart for karma; and believe me, you will never be so lucky again if you are arrested. It would be a thing of shame for someone as bright as you to waste away in prison. A word is enough for the wise.”

The words touched Peter to the marrow and he almost shed tears. If only this man knew. Stealing was embedded in his DNA; he could not just stop. However, he had been given a second chance, he intended to use it wisely. He had to make good use of his newly-gained freedom. He took the words of the man to heart.

His voice was heavy when he spoke, “Thank you, sir.” He wanted to say more but words held in his tongue.

The man patted him on the back and said, “Go, my child, and sin no more.”

If he could, he would. He intended to sin no further.

He walked away. He knew he could not possibly go out of the compound through the front gate. This was a police station, not Mallam Dadawa’s compound. The only way he could entirely escape was by scaling the back fence; but it was studded with pieces of broken bottle. Peter didn’t mind. The cold racked his exposed body but he didn’t mind too. These were only little prices to pay for his freedom.

2 Likes

Literature / Re: Kings (where Evil Men Dwells, Bad Things Follow) by Silver1996(m): 12:28pm
KINGS
EPISODE 40

SHE look around as she drove into the hotel, the hotel must have cost a fortune but she wasn't here for that, she drove into the parking log and stop the car, she look at the guy sitting opposite her and the guy smile at her...
"We are here"She said to him..
The guy placed his hands on her.. "Let do this"
They both came down from the car, took their luggage from the car boot and started walking to the reception.....
The potter ran towards them and quickly collected the luggage from them and led them in....
"You welcome ma... You welcome sir"The receptionist said with a smile on her face..
"How are you? She ask
"Am fine ma"The receptionist replied
"I made a reservation here"She said
"When did you make the reservation ma? The receptionist ask checking the computer system..
"Two weeks ago"she replied
"Your name ma? The receptionist ask
"Sonia Isaac"She replied..
"Yes its here, presidential suite"the receptionist said
Sonia nodded, then the key was handed to her and the potter carried her luggage and took her to the room....
"Thank you"Sonia said to the potter when they were in...
The potter nodded and was ready to leave but he was called back by the boy who check his wallet and gave hil some money, the potter left the room with a big smile in his face...
Sonia took a deep breathe as she around the room, the thought of her dead parents creep into her head, she sniff as a tear began to roll from her eyes...
The boy wrap his hands around her...
"Steve"She muttered his name, and lean her head on his chest as uncontrollable tears poured from her eyes
"Its ok, we are here now, this isn't the time to cry, you have shed enough tears, now its time for him to weep"Steve said

**********************
Carlos groan as he pace around....
"Could it be one of the chiefs who has done this? Buzo ask..
Carlos didn't reply, he just kept pacing about...
"You said it yourself that the chiefs were having a secret meeting to conspire against you, maybe one of them did this"Buzo added
"It wasn't the chiefs who conspired,it was Odumodu.. "Carlos replied
"Odumodu has been such a helping hand, why would he do such a thing to tarnish your reputation?Buzo said
"If he can set up a secret meeting to turn the chiefs against me, he can do anything.. "Carlos said
"I will crush him if i find out he did this"Carlos added

********************
Desmond breathe heavily as the water from the shower clatters in his face, even in his own marriage day all he keeps thinking about was Claude, what kind of spell has she cast on him, he doesn't even feel anything to the girl he is getting married to, he is doing it just to make his father happy..
He off the shower, grab his towel and dried his wet body, then those dirty thoughts started invading his head...
He had an instant boner, he sigh and tied the towel to his waist, he step out of the bath tub and walk out of the bathroom, shock swept through him as he saw the person lying on his bed...
"What are you doing here? He blared out
"The door was open"Cleopatra said and begin to unzip her dress..
"Do you realise am getting married today? He ask
She stood up from the bed, walk straight to him,and begin to rub her fingers on his bare chest..
His boner increases and the towel loosened and fell to the floor ...
"Then consider this a wedding present"She said
He immediately lift her up and carried her into the bed...
In a fluid motion she pulled her bra over her head and without hesitation bent and tugged her panties to the floor, kicking them free with her foot.
She moan as he slid his fingers inside her.
"Shhh," he whispered softly, sliding his finger out of her, his actions still gentle. "I'll be inside you soon, and I'll Bleep you as hard as you need." He slid his finger—glistening with moisture--to rest on her lower lip. Cleopatra did as he wanted, sucking his finger clean. He growled, dragged her against him and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste the juices that she had licked from his fingers.

Cleopatra was whimpering as he kissed her. She was trying to control herself, but it just wasn't working. She moaned in pleasure as he slid his mouth to her throat and started to nuzzle.
"Oh you are sweet," she whispered as he continued to torment her...
He remove his mouth from hers and roughly slapped her naughty ass before finally guiding his d**k to her wet pu**y. Slowly pushing inside her tight, wet, canal, he grunted in carnal satisfaction.
"Oh, yes…”she seethed in immense pleasure.
He grasped her hips and immediately began pummeling her slick cunt.
“Oh! Yes, like that, Bleep me like that!” she wailed, arching her back upwards.
As he stared mesmerized by her gorgeous, jiggling, gelatinous ass, he felt a dynamic climax unlike any other begin to near its peak.
She burnt in sensation and moan in orgasmic euphoria..

Desmond gasped as the her pu**y squeezed and clenched around his d**k Thrown overboard himself, he squeezed her buttocks and groaned as his jizz filled her sweet cunt.
Tired and exhausted,he fell on top her, then he realise today was his marriage, he quickly stood up and walk up to the wardrobe..
"Give me this kind of wedding gift again and i will kill you"He said
Cleopatra chulkled, now she knows the king won't be able to resist her anymore, she has gotten him right where she wants, it was time for her to start making her own plans...
"Get out"Desmond said
"Yes my king"She said, stood up from the bed and begin to dress...
"Happy marriage day my king"She said when she was fully dressed then she left the room.....

*******************
The plate fell down and clatters as Rachel hand mistakely hit it...
She grunts as she stare at the broken pieces, if the king find out about this he will be furious, it was his marriage and she is ruining it breaking plates, she wipe off the sweat in her face as she bow down to pick the pieces...
Shock engulf when she felt a hand touch her, she quickly looked at the person, she exhales and gasp for breathe as she saw the person's face..
"Raphael you startled me"She said
"Am sorry, i thought you saw me when i walked in"He replied
"I didn't,i was too busy breaking plates"She said shabbily
"Come on, it wasn't your fault, you are tired, when one gets tired he is bound to make mistakes,no one will crucify you for breaking one plate.. "
She laugh, Raphael stared at her, she have a cheerful smile, he has been thinking about her alot recently and he doesn't know why, could it be he was beginning to like her..
She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered and she had a burnished complexion. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed as she laugh....
He bow down and begin to help her gather the broken pieces..
"So what do you think about the king soon to be wife? He ask striking a conversation
"I heard she is good, despite the fact that she is rich"She replied
"People say she is rude"he said
"I guess everyone has a different opinion of everyone"
They gaze at each other then their eyes met, they both felt a burning sensation to touch each other but what could be running in the others mind..
Rachel quickly look away, she pick all the broken pieces and stood up erect
"I have to continue with what i was doing"
Raphael nodded,he stood and watch her leave.. When she was out of sight, he touch his beating heart...

****************

MOGULA

Francis keep thinking of what the princess has said, the physician lied, why would he lie, who threatened him, who is trying to kill Bullo...
"You are going to starve to dead if you dont eat"Levi said
Francis sigh and drop the plate of food in a corner, there are some things worth thinking about than a plate of food...
"So you saying the physician claimed to be knocked down by someone who is obviously not Zach? Zed ask
"Zach is just a slave, he couldn't have knock anyone down, the physician lied, someone must have threatened him"Francis said
"Zach doesn't have any leverage to threaten anyone, who will feel threatened by the words of a slave"Levi added
"if it is not Zach, who will have the power to compel a royal physician to lie...? Francis ask anxiously
"A powerful person? Zed replied
"And why would a powerful person want to kill a slave? Levi ask..
Just then they the rest slaves heading towards a particular direction...
"Whats happening?Zed ask
He begin to walk towards the direction, Francis and Levi followed him.
They pave their way to the front through the cloud....
Shock prick their spines as they saw who some group of men were carrying....
"Thats Bullo"Levi muttered
"He is dead"Zed said shabbily
Francis heart began to beat rapidly... "That can't be,the princess said he was okay"Francis said with shaking mouth
"If he was okay, then Who killed him? Levi ask
Francis stood motionless, he was speechless for a second... "What do i do now? He ask anxiously..
"Run"Zed muttered

STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

A big thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday, you all made my day.. I really appreciate...

1 Like

Politics / Re: Osinbajo At Kayode Fayemi's Governorship Campaign In Ekiti (Photos) by obowunmi(m): 12:23pm
QUEENSola01:

ofo lomi efo se!!
ofo ni wah se!

Sango, Oya and Ogun strike you dead. Aseee
Crime / Re: Men And Women Selling Alcohol And Dog Meat Arrested By SARS In Borno. Photos by airminem(f): 12:17pm
CastedDude:
Yesterday, security operatives who were led by the Attorney general and Commissioner for Justice Barr Kaka Shehu Lawan and commissioner for Land and survey Borno state Hon. Sugun Mai Mele and other Borno state officials, arrested some men and women in Galadima area of Maiduguri, Borno state capital.

Those arrested were said to have been caught selling illegal drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and also dead dog and donkey meat despite the guest houses in the area already demolished.

The suspects were taking into custody by the operatives of the Special Anti Robbery Squad (SARS).

Source; https://www.nationalhelm.co/2018/06/men-and-women-selling-alcohol-and-dog-meat-arrested-by-sars-in-borno-photos.html


"dead dog and donkey meat " nna is the meat suppose to be alive while eating it. tufia Kwa for the writing.

3 Likes

Crime / Sambo Hammangabdo Attacked By Hired Assassins As He Kills One (Graphic Photos) by CastedDude: 12:10pm
The dethroned district head of Mayo-Selbe in Taraba state, Alhaji Sambo Hammangabdo (Jauro) miraculously cheated death after he was brutally butchered by hired assassins who reportedly attacked him at his residence.

According to a report by Mustapha, the community leader was said to have gallantly fought the four hoodlums during the attack and killed one in the process as he was brutally butchered and left for dead by three others who later fled the scene.

He was later rushed to the hospital where he was treated and is recuperating.

Source; https://www.nationalhelm.co/2018/06/alhaji-sambo-hammangabdo-attacked-by-assassins-in-taraba.html

1 Like

Sports / Re: Romelu Lukaku: We Were So Poor Mother Borrowed Bread For Us To Eat by Greenbirth: 11:57am
[quote author=FlirtyKaren post=68677361]Romelu Lukaku, who is currently representing Belgium at the ongoing FIFA World Cup in Russia, has shared a very emotional story about his childhood and how his family lived in abject poverty.

In an interview with The Players Tribune, Lukaku talked about his struggle growing up as a black footballer in Belgium and how he vowed to be the bet player ever in the country.

Read his full emotional story below:

"I remember the exact moment I knew we were broke. I can still picture my mum at the refrigerator and the look on her face.

I was six years old, and I came home for lunch during our break at school. My mum had the same thing on the menu every single day: Bread and milk. When you’re a kid, you don’t even think about it. But I guess that’s what we could afford.

Then this one day I came home, and I walked into the kitchen, and I saw my mum at the refrigerator with the box of milk, like normal. But this time she was mixing something in with it. She was shaking it all up, you know? I didn’t understand what was going on. Then she brought my lunch over to me, and she was smiling like everything was cool. But I realized right away what was going on.

She was mixing water in with the milk. We didn’t have enough money to make it last the whole week. We were broke. Not just poor, but broke.

My father had been a pro footballer, but he was at the end of his career and the money was all gone. The first thing to go was the cable TV. No more football. No more Match of the Day. No signal.

Then I’d come home at night and the lights would be shut off. No electricity for two, three weeks at a time.

Then I’d want to take a bath, and there would be no hot water. My mum would heat up a kettle on the stove, and I’d stand in the shower splashing the warm water on top of my head with a cup.

There were even times when my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. The bakers knew me and my little brother, so they’d let her take a loaf of bread on Monday and pay them back on Friday.

I knew we were struggling. But when she was mixing in water with the milk, I realized it was over, you know what I mean? This was our life.


I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want her to stress. I just ate my lunch. But I swear to God, I made a promise to myself that day. It was like somebody snapped their fingers and woke me up. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I was going to do.

I couldn’t see my mother living like that. Nah, nah, nah. I couldn’t have that.

People in football love to talk about mental strength. Well, I’m the strongest dude you’re ever going to meet. Because I remember sitting in the dark with my brother and my mom, saying our prayers, and thinking, believing, knowing … it’s going to happen.

I kept my promise to myself for a while. But then some days I’d come home from school and find my mum crying. So I finally told her one day, “Mum, it’s gonna change. You’ll see. I’m going to play football for Anderlecht, and it’s going to happen soon. We’ll be good. You won’t have to worry anymore.”

I was six.

I asked my father, “When can you start playing professional football?”

He said, “Sixteen.”

I said, “O.K., sixteen then.”

It was going to happen. Period.

Let me tell you something — every game I ever played was a Final. When I played in the park, it was a Final. When I played during break in kindergarten, it was a Final. I’m dead-ass serious. I used to try to tear the cover off the ball every time I shot it. Full power. We weren’t hitting R1, bro. No finesse shot. I didn’t have the new FIFA. I didn’t have a Playstation. I wasn’t playing around. I was trying to kill you.

When I started growing taller, some of the teachers and the parents would be stressing me. I’ll never forget the first time I heard one of the adults say, “Hey, how old are you? What year were you born?”

I’m like, What? Are you serious?

When I was 11 years old, I was playing for the Lièrse youth team, and one of the parents from the other team literally tried to stop me from going on the pitch. He was like, “How old is this kid? Where is his I.D.? Where is he from?”

I thought, Where am I from? What? I was born in Antwerp. I’m from Belgium.

My dad wasn’t there, because he didn’t have a car to drive to my away games. I was all alone, and I had to stand up for myself. I went and got my I.D. from my bag and showed it to all the parents, and they were passing it around inspecting it, and I remember the blood just rushing through me … and I thought, “Oh, I’m gonna kill your son even more now. I was already going to kill him, but now I’m gonna destroy him. You’re gonna drive the boy home crying now.”

I wanted to be the best footballer in Belgian history. That was my goal. Not good. Not great. The best. I played with so much anger, because of a lot of things … because of the rats running around in our apartment … because I couldn’t watch the Champions League … because of how the other parents used to look at me.

I was on a mission.

When I was 12, I scored 76 goals in 34 games.

I scored them all wearing my dad’s shoes. Once our feet got to be the same size, we used to share.

One day I called up my grandfather — my mum’s dad. He was one of the most important people in my life. He was my connection back to Congo, where my mum and dad are from. So I was on the phone with him one day, and I said, “Yeah, I’m doing really well. I scored 76 goals, and we won the league. The big teams are noticing me.”

And usually, he always wanted to hear about my football. But this time it was strange. He said, “Yeah, Rom. Yeah, that’s great. But can you do me a favor?”

I said, “Yeah, what is it?”

He said, “Can you look after my daughter, please?”

I remember being so confused. Like, what’s Grandad on about?

I said, “Mum? Yeah, we’re cool. We’re O.K.”

He said, “No, promise me. Can you promise me? Just look after my daughter. Just look after her for me, O.K.?”

I said, “Yeah, Granddad. I got it. I promise you.”

Five days later he passed away. And then I understood what he really meant.

It makes me so sad to think about, because I just wish that he could have lived another four years to see me play for Anderlecht. To see that I kept my promise, you know? To see that everything was going to be O.K.

I told my mum that I would make it at 16.

I was late by 11 days.

May 24, 2009.

The playoff final. Anderlecht vs. Standard Liège.

Lukaku: To me, every game was a final.

That was the craziest day of my life. But we have to back up for a minute. Because at the start of the season, I was barely playing for the Anderlecht U-19s. The coach had me coming off the bench. I’m like, “How the hell am I going to sign a pro contract on my 16th birthday if I’m still on the bench for the U-19s?”

So I made a bet with our coach.

I told him, “I’ll guarantee you something. If you actually play me, I’m going to score 25 goals by December.”

He laughed. He literally laughed at me.

I said, “Let’s make a bet then.”

He said, “O.K., but if you don’t score 25 by December, you’re going to the bench.”

I said, “Fine, but if I win, you’re going to clean all the minivans that take the players home from training.”

He said, “O.K., it’s a deal.”

I said, “And one more thing. You have to make pancakes for us every day.”

He said, “O.K., fine.”

That was the dumbest bet that man ever made.

I had 25 by November. We were eating pancakes before Christmas, bro.

Let that be a lesson. You don’t play around with a boy who’s hungry!

I signed my pro contract with Anderlecht on my birthday, May 13. Went straight out and bought the new FIFA and a cable package. It was already the end of the season, so I was at home chilling. But the Belgian league was crazy that year, because Anderlecht and Standard Liege had finished tied on points. So there was a two-leg playoff to decide the title.

During the first leg, I’m at home watching on TV like a fan.

Then the day before the second leg, I get a phone call from the coach of the reserves.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rom. What are you doing?”

“About to go play football in the park.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Pack your bags. Right now.”

“What? What did I do?”

“No, no, no. You need to get to the stadium right now. The first team wants you now.”

“Yo …. What?! Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Come now.”

I literally sprinted into my dad’s bedroom and was like, “Yo! Get your ass up right now! We gotta go, man!”

He’s like, “Huh? What? Go where?”

I’m like, “ANDERLECHT, MAN.”

I’ll never forget, I showed up to the stadium, and I like pretty much ran into the dressing room and the kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?”

And I said, “Give me number 10.”

The kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?” And I said, “Give me number 10.”
Hahahaha! I don’t know. I was too young to be scared I guess.

He was like, “Academy players have to take 30 and above.”

I said, “O.K., well, three plus six equals nine, and that’s a cool number, so give me 36.”

That night at the hotel, the senior players made me sing a song for them at dinner. I can’t even remember what I picked. My head was spinning.

The next morning, my friend literally knocked on the door of my house to see if I wanted to play football and my mum was like, “He’s out playing.”

My friend said, “Playing where?”

She said, “The final.”

We got off the bus at the stadium, and every single player walked in wearing a cool suit. Except me. I came off the bus wearing a terrible tracksuit, and all the TV cameras were right in my face. The walk to the locker room was like 300 meters. Maybe a three-minute walk. As soon as I put my foot in the locker room, my phone starts blowing up. Everybody had seen me on TV. I had 25 messages in three minutes. My friends were going crazy.

“Bro?! WHY ARE YOU AT THE GAME?!”

“Rom, what is happening? WHY ARE YOU ON TV?”

The only person I texted back was my best friend. I said, “Bro, I don’t know if I’m gonna play. I don’t know what’s going on. But just keep watching the TV.”

In the 63rd minute, the manager subbed me on.

I ran out onto the field for Anderlecht at 16 years and 11 days old.

We lost the final that day, but I was already in heaven. I made good on my promise to my mother and to my grandad. That was the moment I knew we were gonna be O.K.

The next season, I was still finishing up my last year of high school and playing in the Europa League at the same time. I used to have to take a big bag to school so I could catch a flight in the afternoon. We won the league by a mile, and I finished second for African Player of the Year. It was just … crazy.

I actually expected all that to happen, but maybe not so fast. All of sudden, the media was building me up, and putting all these expectations on me. Especially with the national team. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t playing well for Belgium. It wasn’t working out.

But, yo — come on. I was 17! 18! 19!

When things were going well, I was reading newspapers articles and they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker.

When things weren’t going well, they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker of Congolese descent.

If you don’t like the way I play, that’s fine. But I was born here. I grew up in Antwerp, and Liège and Brussels. I dreamed of playing for Anderlecht. I dreamed of being Vincent Kompany. I’ll start a sentence in French and finish it in Dutch, and I’ll throw in some Spanish or Portuguese or Lingala, depending on what neighborhood we’re in.

I’m Belgian.

We’re all Belgian. That’s what makes this country cool, right?

I don’t know why some people in my own country want to see me fail. I really don’t. When I went to Chelsea and I wasn’t playing, I heard them laughing at me. When I got loaned out to West Brom, I heard them laughing at me.

But it’s cool. Those people weren’t with me when we were pouring water in our cereal. If you weren’t with me when I had nothing, then you can’t really understand me.

You know what’s funny? I missed 10 years of Champions League football when I was a kid. We never could afford it. I would come into school and all the kids would be talking about the final, and I’d have no idea what happened. I remember back in 2002, when Madrid played Leverkusen, everybody was like, “The volley! Oh my God, the volley!”

I had to pretend like I knew what they were talking about.

Two weeks later, we were sitting in computer class, and one of my friends downloaded the video off the Internet, and I finally saw Zidane smash it into the top corner with his left.

That summer, I went over to his house so I could watch Ronaldo Fenomeno in the World Cup Final. Everything else from that tournament is just a story I heard from the kids at school.

Ha! I remember I had holes in my shoes in 2002. Big holes.

Twelve years later, I was playing in the World Cup.

Now I’m about to play in another World Cup, and you know what? I’m going to remember to have fun this time. Life is too short for the stress and the drama. People can say whatever they want about our team, and about me.

Man, listen — when we were kids, we couldn’t even afford to watch Thierry Henry on Match of the Day! Now I’m learning from him every day with the national team. I’m standing with the legend, in the flesh, and he’s telling me all about how to run into space like he used to do. Thierry might be the only guy in the world who watches more football than me. We debate everything. We’re sitting around and having debates about German second division football.

I’m like, “Thierry, have you seen the Fortuna Düsseldorf setup, though?”

He’s like, “Don’t be silly. Yes, of course.”

That’s the coolest thing in the world, to me.

I just really, really wish my grandad was around to witness this.

I’m not talking about the Premier League.

Not Manchester United.

Not the Champions League.

Not the World Cups.

That’s not what I mean. I just wish he was around to see the life we have now. I wish I could have one more phone call with him, and I could let him know

“See? I told you. Your daughter is OK. No more rats in the apartment. No more sleeping on the floor. No more stress. We’re good now. We’re good …

They don’t have to check the I.D. any more. They know our name.”


They don’t have to check the I.D. any more. They know our name.” bro you have inspired me already. Thank so much. To those who say they smell lies.alright then maybe your fathers have G wagon packed in compound. You forgot how much suffering many people go through to soak ordinary garri. Be wise from now

1 Like

Sports / Re: Romelu Lukaku: We Were So Poor Mother Borrowed Bread For Us To Eat by seglius(m): 11:34am
FlirtyKaren:
Romelu Lukaku, who is currently representing Belgium at the ongoing FIFA World Cup in Russia, has shared a very emotional story about his childhood and how his family lived in abject poverty.

In an interview with The Players Tribune, Lukaku talked about his struggle growing up as a black footballer in Belgium and how he vowed to be the bet player ever in the country.

Read his full emotional story below:

"I remember the exact moment I knew we were broke. I can still picture my mum at the refrigerator and the look on her face.

I was six years old, and I came home for lunch during our break at school. My mum had the same thing on the menu every single day: Bread and milk. When you’re a kid, you don’t even think about it. But I guess that’s what we could afford.

Then this one day I came home, and I walked into the kitchen, and I saw my mum at the refrigerator with the box of milk, like normal. But this time she was mixing something in with it. She was shaking it all up, you know? I didn’t understand what was going on. Then she brought my lunch over to me, and she was smiling like everything was cool. But I realized right away what was going on.

She was mixing water in with the milk. We didn’t have enough money to make it last the whole week. We were broke. Not just poor, but broke.

My father had been a pro footballer, but he was at the end of his career and the money was all gone. The first thing to go was the cable TV. No more football. No more Match of the Day. No signal.

Then I’d come home at night and the lights would be shut off. No electricity for two, three weeks at a time.

Then I’d want to take a bath, and there would be no hot water. My mum would heat up a kettle on the stove, and I’d stand in the shower splashing the warm water on top of my head with a cup.

There were even times when my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. The bakers knew me and my little brother, so they’d let her take a loaf of bread on Monday and pay them back on Friday.

I knew we were struggling. But when she was mixing in water with the milk, I realized it was over, you know what I mean? This was our life.


I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want her to stress. I just ate my lunch. But I swear to God, I made a promise to myself that day. It was like somebody snapped their fingers and woke me up. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I was going to do.

I couldn’t see my mother living like that. Nah, nah, nah. I couldn’t have that.

People in football love to talk about mental strength. Well, I’m the strongest dude you’re ever going to meet. Because I remember sitting in the dark with my brother and my mom, saying our prayers, and thinking, believing, knowing … it’s going to happen.

I kept my promise to myself for a while. But then some days I’d come home from school and find my mum crying. So I finally told her one day, “Mum, it’s gonna change. You’ll see. I’m going to play football for Anderlecht, and it’s going to happen soon. We’ll be good. You won’t have to worry anymore.”

I was six.

I asked my father, “When can you start playing professional football?”

He said, “Sixteen.”

I said, “O.K., sixteen then.”

It was going to happen. Period.

Let me tell you something — every game I ever played was a Final. When I played in the park, it was a Final. When I played during break in kindergarten, it was a Final. I’m dead-ass serious. I used to try to tear the cover off the ball every time I shot it. Full power. We weren’t hitting R1, bro. No finesse shot. I didn’t have the new FIFA. I didn’t have a Playstation. I wasn’t playing around. I was trying to kill you.

When I started growing taller, some of the teachers and the parents would be stressing me. I’ll never forget the first time I heard one of the adults say, “Hey, how old are you? What year were you born?”

I’m like, What? Are you serious?

When I was 11 years old, I was playing for the Lièrse youth team, and one of the parents from the other team literally tried to stop me from going on the pitch. He was like, “How old is this kid? Where is his I.D.? Where is he from?”

I thought, Where am I from? What? I was born in Antwerp. I’m from Belgium.

My dad wasn’t there, because he didn’t have a car to drive to my away games. I was all alone, and I had to stand up for myself. I went and got my I.D. from my bag and showed it to all the parents, and they were passing it around inspecting it, and I remember the blood just rushing through me … and I thought, “Oh, I’m gonna kill your son even more now. I was already going to kill him, but now I’m gonna destroy him. You’re gonna drive the boy home crying now.”

I wanted to be the best footballer in Belgian history. That was my goal. Not good. Not great. The best. I played with so much anger, because of a lot of things … because of the rats running around in our apartment … because I couldn’t watch the Champions League … because of how the other parents used to look at me.

I was on a mission.

When I was 12, I scored 76 goals in 34 games.

I scored them all wearing my dad’s shoes. Once our feet got to be the same size, we used to share.

One day I called up my grandfather — my mum’s dad. He was one of the most important people in my life. He was my connection back to Congo, where my mum and dad are from. So I was on the phone with him one day, and I said, “Yeah, I’m doing really well. I scored 76 goals, and we won the league. The big teams are noticing me.”

And usually, he always wanted to hear about my football. But this time it was strange. He said, “Yeah, Rom. Yeah, that’s great. But can you do me a favor?”

I said, “Yeah, what is it?”

He said, “Can you look after my daughter, please?”

I remember being so confused. Like, what’s Grandad on about?

I said, “Mum? Yeah, we’re cool. We’re O.K.”

He said, “No, promise me. Can you promise me? Just look after my daughter. Just look after her for me, O.K.?”

I said, “Yeah, Granddad. I got it. I promise you.”

Five days later he passed away. And then I understood what he really meant.

It makes me so sad to think about, because I just wish that he could have lived another four years to see me play for Anderlecht. To see that I kept my promise, you know? To see that everything was going to be O.K.

I told my mum that I would make it at 16.

I was late by 11 days.

May 24, 2009.

The playoff final. Anderlecht vs. Standard Liège.

Lukaku: To me, every game was a final.

That was the craziest day of my life. But we have to back up for a minute. Because at the start of the season, I was barely playing for the Anderlecht U-19s. The coach had me coming off the bench. I’m like, “How the hell am I going to sign a pro contract on my 16th birthday if I’m still on the bench for the U-19s?”

So I made a bet with our coach.

I told him, “I’ll guarantee you something. If you actually play me, I’m going to score 25 goals by December.”

He laughed. He literally laughed at me.

I said, “Let’s make a bet then.”

He said, “O.K., but if you don’t score 25 by December, you’re going to the bench.”

I said, “Fine, but if I win, you’re going to clean all the minivans that take the players home from training.”

He said, “O.K., it’s a deal.”

I said, “And one more thing. You have to make pancakes for us every day.”

He said, “O.K., fine.”

That was the dumbest bet that man ever made.

I had 25 by November. We were eating pancakes before Christmas, bro.

Let that be a lesson. You don’t play around with a boy who’s hungry!

I signed my pro contract with Anderlecht on my birthday, May 13. Went straight out and bought the new FIFA and a cable package. It was already the end of the season, so I was at home chilling. But the Belgian league was crazy that year, because Anderlecht and Standard Liege had finished tied on points. So there was a two-leg playoff to decide the title.

During the first leg, I’m at home watching on TV like a fan.

Then the day before the second leg, I get a phone call from the coach of the reserves.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rom. What are you doing?”

“About to go play football in the park.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Pack your bags. Right now.”

“What? What did I do?”

“No, no, no. You need to get to the stadium right now. The first team wants you now.”

“Yo …. What?! Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Come now.”

I literally sprinted into my dad’s bedroom and was like, “Yo! Get your ass up right now! We gotta go, man!”

He’s like, “Huh? What? Go where?”

I’m like, “ANDERLECHT, MAN.”

I’ll never forget, I showed up to the stadium, and I like pretty much ran into the dressing room and the kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?”

And I said, “Give me number 10.”

The kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?” And I said, “Give me number 10.”
Hahahaha! I don’t know. I was too young to be scared I guess.

He was like, “Academy players have to take 30 and above.”

I said, “O.K., well, three plus six equals nine, and that’s a cool number, so give me 36.”

That night at the hotel, the senior players made me sing a song for them at dinner. I can’t even remember what I picked. My head was spinning.

The next morning, my friend literally knocked on the door of my house to see if I wanted to play football and my mum was like, “He’s out playing.”

My friend said, “Playing where?”

She said, “The final.”

We got off the bus at the stadium, and every single player walked in wearing a cool suit. Except me. I came off the bus wearing a terrible tracksuit, and all the TV cameras were right in my face. The walk to the locker room was like 300 meters. Maybe a three-minute walk. As soon as I put my foot in the locker room, my phone starts blowing up. Everybody had seen me on TV. I had 25 messages in three minutes. My friends were going crazy.

“Bro?! WHY ARE YOU AT THE GAME?!”

“Rom, what is happening? WHY ARE YOU ON TV?”

The only person I texted back was my best friend. I said, “Bro, I don’t know if I’m gonna play. I don’t know what’s going on. But just keep watching the TV.”

In the 63rd minute, the manager subbed me on.

I ran out onto the field for Anderlecht at 16 years and 11 days old.

We lost the final that day, but I was already in heaven. I made good on my promise to my mother and to my grandad. That was the moment I knew we were gonna be O.K.

The next season, I was still finishing up my last year of high school and playing in the Europa League at the same time. I used to have to take a big bag to school so I could catch a flight in the afternoon. We won the league by a mile, and I finished second for African Player of the Year. It was just … crazy.

I actually expected all that to happen, but maybe not so fast. All of sudden, the media was building me up, and putting all these expectations on me. Especially with the national team. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t playing well for Belgium. It wasn’t working out.

But, yo — come on. I was 17! 18! 19!

When things were going well, I was reading newspapers articles and they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker.

When things weren’t going well, they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker of Congolese descent.

If you don’t like the way I play, that’s fine. But I was born here. I grew up in Antwerp, and Liège and Brussels. I dreamed of playing for Anderlecht. I dreamed of being Vincent Kompany. I’ll start a sentence in French and finish it in Dutch, and I’ll throw in some Spanish or Portuguese or Lingala, depending on what neighborhood we’re in.

I’m Belgian.

We’re all Belgian. That’s what makes this country cool, right?

I don’t know why some people in my own country want to see me fail. I really don’t. When I went to Chelsea and I wasn’t playing, I heard them laughing at me. When I got loaned out to West Brom, I heard them laughing at me.

But it’s cool. Those people weren’t with me when we were pouring water in our cereal. If you weren’t with me when I had nothing, then you can’t really understand me.

You know what’s funny? I missed 10 years of Champions League football when I was a kid. We never could afford it. I would come into school and all the kids would be talking about the final, and I’d have no idea what happened. I remember back in 2002, when Madrid played Leverkusen, everybody was like, “The volley! Oh my God, the volley!”

I had to pretend like I knew what they were talking about.

Two weeks later, we were sitting in computer class, and one of my friends downloaded the video off the Internet, and I finally saw Zidane smash it into the top corner with his left.

That summer, I went over to his house so I could watch Ronaldo Fenomeno in the World Cup Final. Everything else from that tournament is just a story I heard from the kids at school.

Ha! I remember I had holes in my shoes in 2002. Big holes.

Twelve years later, I was playing in the World Cup.

Now I’m about to play in another World Cup, and you know what? I’m going to remember to have fun this time. Life is too short for the stress and the drama. People can say whatever they want about our team, and about me.

Man, listen — when we were kids, we couldn’t even afford to watch Thierry Henry on Match of the Day! Now I’m learning from him every day with the national team. I’m standing with the legend, in the flesh, and he’s telling me all about how to run into space like he used to do. Thierry might be the only guy in the world who watches more football than me. We debate everything. We’re sitting around and having debates about German second division football.

I’m like, “Thierry, have you seen the Fortuna Düsseldorf setup, though?”

He’s like, “Don’t be silly. Yes, of course.”

That’s the coolest thing in the world, to me.

I just really, really wish my grandad was around to witness this.

I’m not talking about the Premier League.

Not Manchester United.

Not the Champions League.

Not the World Cups.

That’s not what I mean. I just wish he was around to see the life we have now. I wish I could have one more phone call with him, and I could let him know

“See? I told you. Your daughter is OK. No more rats in the apartment. No more sleeping on the floor. No more stress. We’re good now. We’re good …

They don’t have to check the I.D. any more. They know our name.”

https://lailasnews.com/we-were-so-poor-mother-borrowed-bread-for-us-to-eat-romelu-lukaku/

Without story, no glory. Perseverance.

1 Like

Politics / Re: Who Is Afraid Of Igbo? by opeyemicollins(m): 11:29am
marydada1111:
Ndi Igbo is the only pillar holding “contract Nigeria” to its foundation; the single hand carrying Nigeria. Did I hear your opinion differ? It’s all clear-even as every second ticks by. Biafra remains the biggest nightmare which torments the beds of every heart and hand which holds Nigerians together in modern slavery. Biafra is the Karma of evil doers in Nigeria, the repercussions of years of selfishness which breeds wickedness and callousness. Ask yourselves: “who dreads Biafra the most, who really feels more vulnerable at the sound of this great name?" Only in answering that shall you truthfully come to terms with the depths of your wickedness and the superficiality of this country called Nigeria; perhaps you could save what you have left of yourselves. Without Ndigbo, Nigeria would quickly decay like a corpse refrigerated for centuries. If your opinion, however, differs from this truth, and you believe that Nigeria will suddenly wake up from its dead bed once Biafra comes, then speak to your peoples; gather your leaders and speak with one voice, saying: “Nigeria will get well when the Igbos leave”. Let your convictions be heard just as mine is-all over the world. It doesn’t matter how many accusations have been labeled against Ndigbo, Ojukwu, or/and Biafra, it holds no sand if every accusing finger in Nigeria continually points towards South-East; Biafra remains both the dread of Nigerian leaders, and the hope of Nigerians. Biafra is the freedom that will break the Nigeria bondage and set Nigerians free. Ndigbo are now home to the many names anyone would conceive of calling us, these make us stronger. Igbos love money, Ok; Ndigbo claim to be the wisest, hmmm; Igbos are wicked, I see; their land is landlocked, really? They want Biafra yet they have nothing apart from trade, tell me something; everyone knows that Igbos do not go to school, I’m listening; Igbos cannot unite, really? In a fruitless attempt to shut out the blaring truth, every hand rises to answer the Igbo question; yet the obvious most important but unanswered question after all these still remains: why do Nigerians then dread the Biafran state? Why has the federal government of Nigeria done everything to oppose this, including killing innocent people and setting the guilty ones free? And why do people from a particular location cry out in protest when Biafra is mentioned, as if their mother is about to be taken away from them? Patriotism is ruled out. The obvious answer to this is simple: Biafra carries Nigeria, Ndigbo are the only single pillar keeping Nigeria in its place.....



check what your brother did to the budget that affects your region
Crime / Re: In-Laws Beat Man To Death In Ondo For Maltreating His Wife by asatemple(f): 11:28am
Which investigation, the man is dead
Sports / Re: Romelu Lukaku: We Were So Poor Mother Borrowed Bread For Us To Eat by Jethrolite(m): 11:28am
Bluezy13:
Impatience does not only breed ignorance but displays it's acuteness.
More reason students fail comprehension passages because they rush to answer the questions.

"...my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. The bakers knew me and my little brother, so they’d let her take a loaf of bread on Monday and pay them back on Friday."

You have time for the dead brains and fools here, distance yourself from them before they pull you down to their level.

1 Like

Sports / Re: Romelu Lukaku: We Were So Poor Mother Borrowed Bread For Us To Eat by Viking007(m): 11:22am
FlirtyKaren:
Romelu Lukaku, who is currently representing Belgium at the ongoing FIFA World Cup in Russia, has shared a very emotional story about his childhood and how his family lived in abject poverty.

In an interview with The Players Tribune, Lukaku talked about his struggle growing up as a black footballer in Belgium and how he vowed to be the bet player ever in the country.

Read his full emotional story below:

"I remember the exact moment I knew we were broke. I can still picture my mum at the refrigerator and the look on her face.

I was six years old, and I came home for lunch during our break at school. My mum had the same thing on the menu every single day: Bread and milk. When you’re a kid, you don’t even think about it. But I guess that’s what we could afford.

Then this one day I came home, and I walked into the kitchen, and I saw my mum at the refrigerator with the box of milk, like normal. But this time she was mixing something in with it. She was shaking it all up, you know? I didn’t understand what was going on. Then she brought my lunch over to me, and she was smiling like everything was cool. But I realized right away what was going on.

She was mixing water in with the milk. We didn’t have enough money to make it last the whole week. We were broke. Not just poor, but broke.

My father had been a pro footballer, but he was at the end of his career and the money was all gone. The first thing to go was the cable TV. No more football. No more Match of the Day. No signal.

Then I’d come home at night and the lights would be shut off. No electricity for two, three weeks at a time.

Then I’d want to take a bath, and there would be no hot water. My mum would heat up a kettle on the stove, and I’d stand in the shower splashing the warm water on top of my head with a cup.

There were even times when my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. The bakers knew me and my little brother, so they’d let her take a loaf of bread on Monday and pay them back on Friday.

I knew we were struggling. But when she was mixing in water with the milk, I realized it was over, you know what I mean? This was our life.


I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want her to stress. I just ate my lunch. But I swear to God, I made a promise to myself that day. It was like somebody snapped their fingers and woke me up. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I was going to do.

I couldn’t see my mother living like that. Nah, nah, nah. I couldn’t have that.

People in football love to talk about mental strength. Well, I’m the strongest dude you’re ever going to meet. Because I remember sitting in the dark with my brother and my mom, saying our prayers, and thinking, believing, knowing … it’s going to happen.

I kept my promise to myself for a while. But then some days I’d come home from school and find my mum crying. So I finally told her one day, “Mum, it’s gonna change. You’ll see. I’m going to play football for Anderlecht, and it’s going to happen soon. We’ll be good. You won’t have to worry anymore.”

I was six.

I asked my father, “When can you start playing professional football?”

He said, “Sixteen.”

I said, “O.K., sixteen then.”

It was going to happen. Period.

Let me tell you something — every game I ever played was a Final. When I played in the park, it was a Final. When I played during break in kindergarten, it was a Final. I’m dead-ass serious. I used to try to tear the cover off the ball every time I shot it. Full power. We weren’t hitting R1, bro. No finesse shot. I didn’t have the new FIFA. I didn’t have a Playstation. I wasn’t playing around. I was trying to kill you.

When I started growing taller, some of the teachers and the parents would be stressing me. I’ll never forget the first time I heard one of the adults say, “Hey, how old are you? What year were you born?”

I’m like, What? Are you serious?

When I was 11 years old, I was playing for the Lièrse youth team, and one of the parents from the other team literally tried to stop me from going on the pitch. He was like, “How old is this kid? Where is his I.D.? Where is he from?”

I thought, Where am I from? What? I was born in Antwerp. I’m from Belgium.

My dad wasn’t there, because he didn’t have a car to drive to my away games. I was all alone, and I had to stand up for myself. I went and got my I.D. from my bag and showed it to all the parents, and they were passing it around inspecting it, and I remember the blood just rushing through me … and I thought, “Oh, I’m gonna kill your son even more now. I was already going to kill him, but now I’m gonna destroy him. You’re gonna drive the boy home crying now.”

I wanted to be the best footballer in Belgian history. That was my goal. Not good. Not great. The best. I played with so much anger, because of a lot of things … because of the rats running around in our apartment … because I couldn’t watch the Champions League … because of how the other parents used to look at me.

I was on a mission.

When I was 12, I scored 76 goals in 34 games.

I scored them all wearing my dad’s shoes. Once our feet got to be the same size, we used to share.

One day I called up my grandfather — my mum’s dad. He was one of the most important people in my life. He was my connection back to Congo, where my mum and dad are from. So I was on the phone with him one day, and I said, “Yeah, I’m doing really well. I scored 76 goals, and we won the league. The big teams are noticing me.”

And usually, he always wanted to hear about my football. But this time it was strange. He said, “Yeah, Rom. Yeah, that’s great. But can you do me a favor?”

I said, “Yeah, what is it?”

He said, “Can you look after my daughter, please?”

I remember being so confused. Like, what’s Grandad on about?

I said, “Mum? Yeah, we’re cool. We’re O.K.”

He said, “No, promise me. Can you promise me? Just look after my daughter. Just look after her for me, O.K.?”

I said, “Yeah, Granddad. I got it. I promise you.”

Five days later he passed away. And then I understood what he really meant.

It makes me so sad to think about, because I just wish that he could have lived another four years to see me play for Anderlecht. To see that I kept my promise, you know? To see that everything was going to be O.K.

I told my mum that I would make it at 16.

I was late by 11 days.

May 24, 2009.

The playoff final. Anderlecht vs. Standard Liège.

Lukaku: To me, every game was a final.

That was the craziest day of my life. But we have to back up for a minute. Because at the start of the season, I was barely playing for the Anderlecht U-19s. The coach had me coming off the bench. I’m like, “How the hell am I going to sign a pro contract on my 16th birthday if I’m still on the bench for the U-19s?”

So I made a bet with our coach.

I told him, “I’ll guarantee you something. If you actually play me, I’m going to score 25 goals by December.”

He laughed. He literally laughed at me.

I said, “Let’s make a bet then.”

He said, “O.K., but if you don’t score 25 by December, you’re going to the bench.”

I said, “Fine, but if I win, you’re going to clean all the minivans that take the players home from training.”

He said, “O.K., it’s a deal.”

I said, “And one more thing. You have to make pancakes for us every day.”

He said, “O.K., fine.”

That was the dumbest bet that man ever made.

I had 25 by November. We were eating pancakes before Christmas, bro.

Let that be a lesson. You don’t play around with a boy who’s hungry!

I signed my pro contract with Anderlecht on my birthday, May 13. Went straight out and bought the new FIFA and a cable package. It was already the end of the season, so I was at home chilling. But the Belgian league was crazy that year, because Anderlecht and Standard Liege had finished tied on points. So there was a two-leg playoff to decide the title.

During the first leg, I’m at home watching on TV like a fan.

Then the day before the second leg, I get a phone call from the coach of the reserves.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rom. What are you doing?”

“About to go play football in the park.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Pack your bags. Right now.”

“What? What did I do?”

“No, no, no. You need to get to the stadium right now. The first team wants you now.”

“Yo …. What?! Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Come now.”

I literally sprinted into my dad’s bedroom and was like, “Yo! Get your ass up right now! We gotta go, man!”

He’s like, “Huh? What? Go where?”

I’m like, “ANDERLECHT, MAN.”

I’ll never forget, I showed up to the stadium, and I like pretty much ran into the dressing room and the kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?”

And I said, “Give me number 10.”

The kitman said, “O.K., kid, what number do you want?” And I said, “Give me number 10.”
Hahahaha! I don’t know. I was too young to be scared I guess.

He was like, “Academy players have to take 30 and above.”

I said, “O.K., well, three plus six equals nine, and that’s a cool number, so give me 36.”

That night at the hotel, the senior players made me sing a song for them at dinner. I can’t even remember what I picked. My head was spinning.

The next morning, my friend literally knocked on the door of my house to see if I wanted to play football and my mum was like, “He’s out playing.”

My friend said, “Playing where?”

She said, “The final.”

We got off the bus at the stadium, and every single player walked in wearing a cool suit. Except me. I came off the bus wearing a terrible tracksuit, and all the TV cameras were right in my face. The walk to the locker room was like 300 meters. Maybe a three-minute walk. As soon as I put my foot in the locker room, my phone starts blowing up. Everybody had seen me on TV. I had 25 messages in three minutes. My friends were going crazy.

“Bro?! WHY ARE YOU AT THE GAME?!”

“Rom, what is happening? WHY ARE YOU ON TV?”

The only person I texted back was my best friend. I said, “Bro, I don’t know if I’m gonna play. I don’t know what’s going on. But just keep watching the TV.”

In the 63rd minute, the manager subbed me on.

I ran out onto the field for Anderlecht at 16 years and 11 days old.

We lost the final that day, but I was already in heaven. I made good on my promise to my mother and to my grandad. That was the moment I knew we were gonna be O.K.

The next season, I was still finishing up my last year of high school and playing in the Europa League at the same time. I used to have to take a big bag to school so I could catch a flight in the afternoon. We won the league by a mile, and I finished second for African Player of the Year. It was just … crazy.

I actually expected all that to happen, but maybe not so fast. All of sudden, the media was building me up, and putting all these expectations on me. Especially with the national team. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t playing well for Belgium. It wasn’t working out.

But, yo — come on. I was 17! 18! 19!

When things were going well, I was reading newspapers articles and they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker.

When things weren’t going well, they were calling me Romelu Lukaku, the Belgian striker of Congolese descent.

If you don’t like the way I play, that’s fine. But I was born here. I grew up in Antwerp, and Liège and Brussels. I dreamed of playing for Anderlecht. I dreamed of being Vincent Kompany. I’ll start a sentence in French and finish it in Dutch, and I’ll throw in some Spanish or Portuguese or Lingala, depending on what neighborhood we’re in.

I’m Belgian.

We’re all Belgian. That’s what makes this country cool, right?

I don’t know why some people in my own country want to see me fail. I really don’t. When I went to Chelsea and I wasn’t playing, I heard them laughing at me. When I got loaned out to West Brom, I heard them laughing at me.

But it’s cool. Those people weren’t with me when we were pouring water in our cereal. If you weren’t with me when I had nothing, then you can’t really understand me.

You know what’s funny? I missed 10 years of Champions League football when I was a kid. We never could afford it. I would come into school and all the kids would be talking about the final, and I’d have no idea what happened. I remember back in 2002, when Madrid played Leverkusen, everybody was like, “The volley! Oh my God, the volley!”

I had to pretend like I knew what they were talking about.

Two weeks later, we were sitting in computer class, and one of my friends downloaded the video off the Internet, and I finally saw Zidane smash it into the top corner with his left.

That summer, I went over to his house so I could watch Ronaldo Fenomeno in the World Cup Final. Everything else from that tournament is just a story I heard from the kids at school.

Ha! I remember I had holes in my shoes in 2002. Big holes.

Twelve years later, I was playing in the World Cup.

Now I’m about to play in another World Cup, and you know what? I’m going to remember to have fun this time. Life is too short for the stress and the drama. People can say whatever they want about our team, and about me.

Man, listen — when we were kids, we couldn’t even afford to watch Thierry Henry on Match of the Day! Now I’m learning from him every day with the national team. I’m standing with the legend, in the flesh, and he’s telling me all about how to run into space like he used to do. Thierry might be the only guy in the world who watches more football than me. We debate everything. We’re sitting around and having debates about German second division football.

I’m like, “Thierry, have you seen the Fortuna Düsseldorf setup, though?”

He’s like, “Don’t be silly. Yes, of course.”

That’s the coolest thing in the world, to me.

I just really, really wish my grandad was around to witness this.

I’m not talking about the Premier League.

Not Manchester United.

Not the Champions League.

Not the World Cups.

That’s not what I mean. I just wish he was around to see the life we have now. I wish I could have one more phone call with him, and I could let him know

“See? I told you. Your daughter is OK. No more rats in the apartment. No more sleeping on the floor. No more stress. We’re good now. We’re good …

They don’t have to check the I.D. any more. They know our name.”

https://lailasnews.com/we-were-so-poor-mother-borrowed-bread-for-us-to-eat-romelu-lukaku/

God, I love this article, sorry I had to quote the entire post. It's just too good not to bookmark. I'm officially a fan of Lukaku. Now I'm emotional. cheesy "Life is too short for all the stress & drama" my favourite quote.

6 Likes 2 Shares

Sports / WWE Leon White Aka Vader Is Dead by Blonchilli(m): 11:18am
WWE said Wednesday that Leon White, better known to WWE audiences as Vader, died Monday night at the age of 63.

White retired from the NFL in the mid-1980s due to injury

He then transitioned to World Championship Wrestling. According to the WWE, he engaged in “memorable rivalries with the likes of Sting and Ron Simmons, becoming a dominant, three-time WCW World Champion in the process.”

In 1996, Vader joined WWE roster, “where he squared off against Superstars such as Shawn Michaels and The Undertaker.”

Superstars have been paying him tribute on social media pages.

http://myfox8.com/2018/06/20/wwes-leon-white-aka-vader-has-died/amp/

Not Satisfied? Click Here To Try Google Search!

(0) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (of 20 pages)

(Go Up)

Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health
religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket

Links: (0) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2018 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 1195
Disclaimer: Every Nairaland member is solely responsible for anything that he/she posts or uploads on Nairaland.