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|The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 2:12pm On Feb 26|
This is a true life story of a 400 level student of the department of electrical/electronics engineering of the university of Maiduguri that was kidnapped somewhere outside the school premises in 2013 and taken to an unknown location where he was made to use drones imported from Syria and Turkey to carry out recon for BH in any town they plan to attack using his school ID as a cover and also trained young recruits on how fly the drones and use them for recon, too.
Hope you enjoy the read.[b]
It all started on Wednesday, March 6, 2013. After a long day at school, I walked out of the University of Maiduguri main gate at about 6:15pm and decided to walk to my off campus apartment which was just a few hundred metres away when the unimaginable happened.
A Toyota Hilux truck pulled up beside me, and a man in his early forties I presume, seated in the passenger seat at the front beckoned me to come. I hesitated at first, knowing how funny things have been around Maiduguri at the time. But after he told me they were strangers and wanted direction to somewhere, I was relieved. The two guys in the back seat came down to ease themselves in the most unsuspecting manner while I went closer to the man in the front seat to help him with direction. He told me they were going to Dalori but missed their way and so needed my help. Few seconds after I started describing the direction they’ll take, I felt a cold object behind my back. The two guys who went to take a pee earlier were right behind me. I was instructed to hush otherwise they’ll pull the trigger. The guy who was asking for direction in English earlier, suddenly switched immediately to a dialect I presumed was Kanuri. He told the two guys something and they pushed me inside the back seat of the van. With his gun trained at me, the first guy in blue jeans and brown T-shirt pushed me to the middle and sat close to me. Immediately, I burst into crying. I tried pleading with them, but obviously, it was a waste of breath. They were on a mission and my tears can’t deter them. The other guy strolled to the other side of the truck, opened the door calmly, came in and shut it and placed the nozzle of his revolver on my thigh. He collected my bag, my phone and all other personal items I had on me and gave it to the man sitting in front. The glasses were wound up, my hands were strapped, a blindfold was placed on me and the truck zoomed off. I cried louder, but after hearing the click of the revolver close to my temple and a stern warning from my abductors to either keep quiet or get killed, I didn’t want to die so, I quietly lowered my cry to a sob.
The blindfold was so thick I couldn’t see anything. I tried all I could to make a mental picture of where the truck was headed but lost it completely as the truck made several turns off the main road after driving for nearly an hour along the Dalori road.
The truck stayed on the off road track for another 2 hours or there about before coming to a halt. We all came down and I was transferred to another truck. This time, a bigger one. The type the military use to transport supplies and personnel. I was bundled into the back of the truck. My blindfold was taken off and I, in what seemed like forever breathed fresh air again. It was already dark. Two bulbs shone in the back of the truck. I was offered a bottle of water by one of the armed men standing in the back compartment of the truck. He was dressed in a floating gown, an AK47 hanging on his shoulder and a turban around his head. I looked around, there were sixteen other guys like me, seated with their hands and feet cuffed. I looked out of the truck, perhaps I can make out where we were, but couldn’t. Although, from what I could see, the place looked like a semi base camp. There was a watchtower that had these bright lights shining in all directions of the camp, there were also few tents, parked motorcycles and a cooking area. In the middle of nowhere. I wanted to drink the water I was offered gently, but the guard won’t allow me have that luxury. After the first sip, I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling of the water quench the thirst in every part of my body, only to feel someone trying to drag the bottle from me.
I opened my eyes and saw the armed guy frowning sternly at me. I protested that I wasn’t done. He shouted back at me in Hausa to hurry up and finish it cause we’re about to leave. Leave to where? I asked in my heart… But didn’t have the gut to spew the words out.
I hurriedly drank the bottle’s content and handed the empty container back to him. He and the other guards collected all our bottles, put them in a sack and threw them to the guys standing outside the truck. Then the moment I hated so much came again. The blindfold was put back on, the trampoline was drawn and everywhere became dark, again. One of the armed guys guarding us shouted something in a dialect I couldn’t determine and there were heavy beatings on the body of the truck. The driver honked twice and our journey began.
We drove from my reckoning for almost six hours before the truck came to a halt. The path was rough and the journey long. I was hungry, exhausted and sleepy. But my present predicament made all of those seem like nothing. I still thought it was a dream.
It was almost morning. The Muslims were already calling their morning prayers when we arrived our final destination. The truck pulled up, our blindfolds were removed and the trampoline raised. We were herded out of the truck in a straight line. LO and behold, it was a sight to behold! Just like what you’d see in Hollywood movies, it was a fully equipped and charged up military headquarters with all manner of activities going on. The entire place was brightly lit you’d think it’s daylight. Military vehicles coming in and going out. Officers dishing out commands in unknown languages. Motorcycles were in their hundreds. Armored tanks were all over the place. There were many watchtowers manned by at least three armed soldiers. I noticed some were dressed in Nigerian army uniforms, some dressed in Niger army uniforms (I had been to Niger before, so I know how their soldiers dress), and a whole lot of others were dressed in Taliban styled clothing like the ones that guarded us in the big truck wore. Right in the middle of the camp were two giant buildings. One looked like a hotel of some sort or a bourgeois residential building (very palatial from the outside), the other looked like a massive warehouse with countless pull up doors.
We were led straight in the direction of the warehouse while some of the soldiers were cheering and singing some sort of anthem.
Even while the call to prayer was being made, only very few were performing oblation preparatory to prayers. The rest were up and about their various businesses, totally unconcerned.
Entering the warehouse, I was shocked beyond believe. There was an airplane inside, two helicopters and a very long tarmac. We were divided into two groups and led to an underground chamber through a staircase in the building that housed a big prison with many inmates.
The first group was thrown into a tiny room and the door locked. My group was led a little further down the aisle and another empty room as opened. One by one our cuffs were removed and pushed inside and the door locked. There were bunks inside the room and a little cubicle in the corner with a flushable bowl that serves as the toilet. Almost everyone was pressed. It was a competition of who’ll use the toilet first. I was lucky to notice the toilet first, so I rushed in before any of my fellow captives could think about it. Less than ten seconds of going in, there was a big fight outside on who’ll go next with some shouting that I hurry up and come out. I did take my time, though. By the time I was done, I felt like a great load had just been taken off my head. I had been pressed for nearly 24hrs. You know what that means, right?
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by overdrive(m): 2:23pm On Feb 26|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by seunlayi(m): 2:23pm On Feb 26|
Naija is gone
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Thebigdream: 2:48pm On Feb 26|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by SpyAC(m): 3:01pm On Feb 26|
Please don't stop this abeg
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Ayemileto(m): 4:26pm On Feb 26|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 6:21pm On Feb 26|
Permit me to point out a few things here before I continue with this story please.
1. Boko Haram has held Nigeria by her balls for over ten years now and it looks like the government don't know how to get rid of them. Well, the truth of the matter is, BH is a very sophisticated group run by highly intelligent and organised mo'fakas. Forgive my French. These guys plan and execute their missions with near perfect accuracy. Don't ever let anybody deceive you to believing that a group of unintelligent people can hold a country's government's entire military might to ransom for over ten years. If you ever believe that, then you're a fool.
2. The possibility of the government having a hand in prolonging this war is probable. Even though you'll hear the sultan's narrative as related to the author upon their meeting, it doesn't entirely prove that the government is guilty. Although, it's quite a compelling argument. (The sultan is the man in charge of most of BH's international connections, technical recruitment, combat strategy, planning and execution).
3. Shekau, the popular face of Boko haram is a, for want of a better word, political office holder in the BH structure. He is replaceable, and has on several occasions been replaced in the past. He is like the PRO to the organization. Even though a lot of people see him as stupid and uneducated, truth is, he's not. None of them was. They are highly intelligent actors hired to perform the job. Most of them are even trained overseas.
4. In this story, you'll understand why guerilla warfare is the hardest kind of war to fight. And also why lack of training of our soldiers on modern methods of military combat, pragmatic thinking and strategy has made this war protracted. The militias seem to be more forward thinking and abreast of almost all military weapons and combat style, making them almost always one step ahead of our army.
Lastly, we must commend the gallantry of our soldiers who have fallen and are still falling in the battle front and the ones who are alive making sure our territorial integrity is maintained. You will never truly get the full picture from what you see in the news. It's a million times more than that.
Can we proceed now?
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by SpyAC(m): 10:17pm On Feb 26|
Please with all honesty continue it
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by southniyikaye(m): 10:39pm On Feb 26|
SpyAC:oga MI sir, good evening and thanks for the other day
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Tridroid(m): 10:45pm On Feb 26|
Yes ooo let proceed
May God help us all in this country.
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by NIJJAking(m): 11:42pm On Feb 26|
Satan the owner of Islam is the main backbone of Islamic terrorists all over the world . but the power of Jesus Christ is strong enough to defeat both Satan and his worshipers
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Georgekyrian(m): 8:20am On Feb 27|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Vidamia(m): 9:04am On Feb 27|
they have strong intelligent on you before you are kidnapped
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 1:03pm On Feb 27|
True. If they need you to work for them, they'll go every length to get you. You'll be surprised how much the Sultan spent to get every information about me. He knows every member of my family and what they're doing. My family mind you, live in Akwa Ibom o.
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 3:15pm On Feb 27|
While the rest of my fellow inmates were struggling to use the toilet, I found a corner bunk in the room and rested my head on a small blanket in the bed and before I knew it, I slept off.
Did I tell you I was the only well dressed person amongst the whole seventeen of us? Well, yes, I was. The rest were either thugs or almajiris. Their clothes looked dirty and their bodies smelled awful.
I can’t quite tell how long I’d been asleep before the heavy bang on the door woke me. Two smartly dressed armed men walked into the room and asked me to follow them. I wanted to protest at first, but, what choice did I have? I got out of bed and followed them. I was led through the corridor we followed earlier housing the cells on both sides until we got to the staircase that led upstairs. I was expecting it’d lead to the hall where I saw the airplane earlier. But, rather, it led to a corridor of some sort; 6mtrs in diameter and almost 100mtrs long. There were many doors on both sides along the corridor with armed soldiers guarding each of them. We walked until we came close to the end of the corridor, the soldier standing in front of one of the doors to the right swung it open and I was asked to go inside. I reluctantly entered like a sheep heading for the slaughter.
I’ve been taking orders from these men like a little boy since I became their captive, something I hated so much in my normal life; taking orders. I had no choice. You can’t argue with the man with a gun my dad used to tell me. He served in the military and even fought in the Civil war on the Federal side. He’d tell stories about how deadly a gun is. How a little boy with a gun can tame many old men with slings and cutlasses. Seeing these guns up close and remembering those stories, I had no choice but to be in my best behavior.
I walked into the room and behold, it was an exquisitely furnished little room with a king-size bed, a bedside fridge, a television with cable network, an air conditioner and a bathroom. There was also an intercom which I was told is connected to the kitchen on which I could order whatever I wanted to eat and I’d be served.
I couldn’t believe it. I was asked to feel at home and get as much sleep as I desired before the sultan sees me. The SULTAN?! “Who’s that?” I asked. The friendlier of the two soldiers that escorted me smiled and told me to relax as I’d find out soon. They walked out, the door was shut and I was all alone in the room.
I took a good look at every nook and cranny of the room to be sure all was well. To be sure that there wasn’t any trap and I wasn’t being watched. Everything looked good and OK. No traps. NOTHING.
The rapid twist of events kept my mind racing. I just couldn’t understand what was going on. Just yesterday, I was a 400 level student of the University of Maiduguri, department of electrical and electronics engineering and then got kidnapped in the most bizarre manner, suffered unusual discomfort in two long cruel journeys, slept in a crammed room and now transferred into a cozy room with five star facilities with the freedom to choose my meals….. What’s really going on? All these events in under 24hrs got me really, really confused.
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|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by SpyAC(m): 6:15pm On Feb 29|
Really fascinating, ride on man, we re behind you?
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by YoungBruzzy: 6:30pm On Mar 01|
Fantastic story line you've got here man.. Kudos to you..
Ann2012 PrudySara Make the two of you come over here oooo
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Ann2012(f): 3:01pm On Mar 02|
I dey ya back
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Goalnaldo(m): 8:18pm On Mar 02|
Poor me!! See me trying to get the picture of the room mentally
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 12:57pm On Mar 03|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 12:58pm On Mar 03|
Thanks a bunch buddy... I appreciate.
Chapter three coming soon....
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Lawal1470(m): 4:40pm On Mar 03|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 7:38pm On Mar 06|
I walked into the bathroom to see what was in there (just to be sure it wasn’t a trap or something). It was a cozy bathroom actually, with a water heater, a shower, a mini Jacuzzi and some neatly arranged towels. I quickly ran some warm water into Jacuzzi, undressed and jumped in. It felt like heaven. Lying in the warm water with my eyes closed, I felt for a minute like all my problems were gone. I was in the water for nearly ten minutes, just enjoying the warmth penetrating every part of my body before scrubbing with soap, rinsing with the shower and got out. I grabbed a towel, dried myself, wore my boxers and came out of the bathroom. To my utmost surprise, there was a fresh pair of boxers, white singlet, white sneakers and prison-like overall suit neatly folded on the bed with a note on the side reading “WEAR THESE”.
Who could have entered the room without making a sound, I wondered. Every damn thing in this camp is just mysterious.
After dressing up in my new clothes, my attention went straight to the intercom and I immediately remembered I was hungry.
I picked up the phone, dialed the number written on it. It was “2211” and I was routed to the kitchen as promised. A man answered at the other end. He sounded calm. He said in clean English “room 50, how can we help you?” “I need rice please, I am very hungry” I said. He chuckled, and said “OK. Fried or jollof?” “Jollof” I replied. “Meat or Fish? Oh, sorry, I was told you don’t eat meat” he said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How the heck did this guy know I don’t eat meat? Who told him? Who are these guys? Where am I? What’s going on? Very many questions started running through my mind again. I asked him who told him, he chuckled again and said “the Sultan” “who is the Sultan” I asked. “Don’t worry” he said, “your food will be served shortly.”
The room was getting hot. I turned on the AC and the TV to see what was showing. The time and date on the TV was 12:25pm March 7, 2013. I had spent over 18hrs with my captors without any knowledge of where I was or why I was kidnapped. I changed over ten channels, not sure what to watch. I had lost concentration completely knowing I haven’t just been kidnapped by some random guys. These guys knew me really well. Less than 10 minutes later, the door was swung open and a lady in yashmak walked in with a trolley. Without saying a word, offloaded everything in it on the table by my bed and walked out and the door was shut by the soldier.
I ate the tasteful jollof like a hungry pig. I had never been that hungry in my life. I lay on the bed after the meal to rest properly and within minutes I dozed off.
I didn’t wake up until it was 8:20pm. I had slept for nearly 8hrs. I don’t remember ever sleeping that long in my entire life during the day. I felt refreshed. At first I was confused seeing myself in a strange room. It took me some minutes to remember that I was abducted the night before and was brought here by my abductors.
Beside the bed was a note on the table that read “Get something to eat and be ready, the Sultan will see you at 10pm”
Finally, I was going to meet the SULTAN!
Can I get more comments guys, to give me proper ginger to continue? Lolz
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by cassbeat(m): 10:31pm On Mar 06|
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Blueelf: 12:10am On Mar 07|
Nice story. Following
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Mantee(m): 9:24am On Mar 07|
Good work. Please continue for the sake of humality.
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 9:34am On Mar 07|
I dialed the kitchen number again and the same man answered on the other end, calling my name this time and room number. These guys won’t stop surprising me now, would they? How did he know my name?
I asked if they have fufu or pounded yam. He said they don’t but that he can get me pounded yam if only I could wait for 30minutes. I said NO. I asked what they have on the menu, and he said for swallow, they only have Tuwon masara and tuwon shinkafa. I ordered for tuwon shinkafa and vegetable soup and in less than 10minutes my order was delivered by yet another girl in yashmak. She offloaded her trolley and left without looking at me or saying a word.
I ate the food, slowly this time. It was tasteful like the first. “Good chefs” I said to myself.
Even though I was tempted to feel at home and think all was well with the sudden twist of events, something inside of me wouldn’t let me. Questions kept coming to my head. Questions like, where am I? Who are these guys? Why did they kidnap me? What do they want? Who is the Sultan? And many more.
The TV was on to a channel I can’t remember now, but I wasn’t paying attention at all to what was showing. I was too overwhelmed by my predicament to pay attention to some silly TV. All I wanted was for the clock to hit 10 so I could see the Sultan, perhaps, my questions would be answered. Minutes dragged minutes and every passing one felt like eternity. The time was 9 o’clock. Just one more hour until I meet the Sultan. I couldn’t wait!
The clock hit 10 o’clock and I was waiting for the door to open, but nothing happened. Ten minutes past 10, nothing. 10:30pm, nothing…. I was starting to be agitated. 10:45pm, still nothing. I hadn’t gone close to the door since I got inside the room, I didn’t even know if the door was actually locked or not. Something urged me to go try the nob and I did. I twisted the nob gently and pulled the door.
The door was stiff. Obviously, the door was locked. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I started banging the door. I banged and banged and banged, but nothing happened. Not even the soldiers outside responded. Now I became even more afraid. What could be going on? It was an hour and fifteen minutes past the time I was promised to see the Sultan and now no one is attending to me. Have I been abandoned? I felt something was going on. The silence was killing. What would happen next, I had no idea at all.
After banging the door for nearly ten minutes, I gave up and went back to bed. I curled myself in one corner of the bed and started crying. I felt totally helpless, thoughts of my family members came rushing in. I thought of my mom and her provision shop. Has she been informed of my abduction? My dad. Oh, Poor pensioner! Are they demanding for ransom? How many million are they asking for? How will my parents raise the cash? Am I going to die here?
For the first time in a very long time, I felt I really needed a superior being to help me out. I hadn’t being a good Christian for a long time even though my parents are dedicated Pentecostals and raised us in the Christian way. They believed every situation can be surmounted by prayers. Jesus, they always insist is the solution to all of man’s problems. I hadn’t said a prayer to God/Jesus in a very long time. I felt I wasn’t in good standing with him and so couldn’t ask him for any favours. But my situation was totally hopeless, anyway, what would I lose if I asked Him and he refuse to help? At least I knew I asked. With these thoughts in mind, I closed my eyes and started praying earnestly to Jesus to come help me.
Less than five minutes into my prayer, the door swung open and two soldiers walked in. Is this Jesus answering my prayer or is it just coincidence? “Oh, thank you Jesus” I shouted subconsciously with my hands embracing my chest. I jumped out of the bed even before they asked and was ordered to follow them. I did. Outside the corridor everything was exactly the same as they were more than ten hours ago when I was brought in. All the doors locked. All of them manned by armed soldiers. I was led to the end of the tunnel where a vault-like door stood.
One of the soldiers inputted some numbers in the sensor knob and pushed the door open. Right at the other side of the door was an elevator that we walked straight into and after pressing some button, the elevator started moving down. After a few seconds, it came to a halt and the doors open to a very palatial corridor. It was so breathtaking that I almost gasped in surprise.
The walls were beautifully decorated with assorted works of art, chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the floor padded with original Turkish carpet. We walked down the corridor and I noticed there wasn’t a single soldier manning the entire length. At the end of the corridor, another door was swung open and there was an office-like setting. A soldier sat in a big chair behind a giant mahogany desk. The room had about six giant doors each manned by an armed soldier. The two soldiers that came with me stood at attention and saluted him. He asked if I was “the boy” and they answered “yes sir”. He nodded at them and said “OK. Dismissed” and they saluted again and walked out.
The soldier in the chair apologized for not attending to me earlier saying the Sultan had been busy but that I should join the two Caucasian men seated on a sofa at the extreme end of the room as the Sultan will see me shortly. And I did. I tried to say hello to the Caucasian men but was warned by the soldier manning the door closest to us to shut up as no one is allowed to talk in the room. I left the long sofa where the men were seated and took a seat in one of the shorter ones. I sat there quietly not sure what to do while I wait. The room was boring. No TV, no artworks, no newspapers, no magazine, nothing at all to entertain. I just sat there thinking about many things at the same time.
After what seem like forever of waiting, there was a loud buzz in the room and I was beckoned to come. I stood up quickly and rushed to the table. The officer in the big chair pointed to one of the doors to his right and asked me to follow the soldier. I did. The soldier flung the door open, entered and I followed him. The entire building was like a maze. Very complicated in design from my analysis. We climbed up a short staircase of about five steps and opened another door. This time, we were welcomed, sort of, by two female soldiers who relieved the one that came with me. He saluted them and turned back. They led me down another short corridor and we reached a giant door manned by two heavily armed soldiers whose face I couldn’t make out because of the masks they wore. They didn’t move at all when we got to the door. One of the ladies opened the door and I was ushered into the palace, eventually. It was truly a palace! I have never seen anything like it in my life. Everything in the magnificent room spelt opulence. There were beautiful maids scattered around the room all dressed in expensive attires. I wondered what they were all doing awake at this time of the night. The chairs were adorned with gold, the chandeliers, too. Strange paintings hung on the wall. There was no Sultan in sight when we entered the room as the chair I assumed he should be sitting on was empty. One of the lady soldiers that came with me walked into one of the rooms adjoining the palace and after a minute, asked me to come in. I entered the room. It was an office. A casually dressed man in military attire stood up to welcome me with a firm handshake. He was in his early forties I presume. He looked exhausted but his voice sounded lively and his demeanor charming. He asked me to sit down in the chair opposite his and offered to pour me a wine. I declined but he wouldn’t take it. He made it clear to me in the most emphatic manner but with a smile on his face that no one refuses his offer. Besides, this is a friendly one and being that we just met, it’d be rude of me to decline his gesture. He was damn too simple, kind, courteous, soft spoken and gentle than the Sultan I envisaged. I accepted the glass he’d poured already and took a sip.
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|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Ann2012(f): 9:48am On Mar 07|
Now you've met the Sultan....what next?
Well done OP
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 10:34am On Mar 07|
Lolz... Aunty sofri sofri ... We will get there soon.
Just keep following...
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Johnwick64: 10:39am On Mar 07|
Dis is beginning to sound like fiction
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by hidhrhis(m): 11:33am On Mar 07|
it sounds entirely fiction
|Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by madone: 10:51am On Mar 09|
this guy na fiction be this jare . you want to tell me it's bokoharam forming u are discussing like this
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