₦airaland Forum

pitapromiz:
you are funny bro. you requested an information and i gave it to you and you say you cant verify it. there was a seminar organised by daad.de and the german embassy (study visa section) and heads of this offices were there. the daad.de nigeria officials first statement before their lecture was ' If you are looking for scholarship for bachelors or masters in germany from daad.de am sorry you may take your leave so as not to waste your time' am a goethe student was there live. anyways quote me your email so that i can send you the presentation power point.

daad offer scholarship for africans it is known as daad epos and starts by june annually.

https://www.daad.de/deutschland/stipendium/datenbank/en/21148-scholarship-database/?detail=10000008

Theres just favouritism towards arab africans than sub saharan africans...and yet we wonder why they are bomb blasts in europe

that isnt a catholic priest,catholic priest dont wear pectoral cross

EmekaMD:
I can't verify this claim of urs bro

They do....its called daad epos.......try google

DMainMan:
UPDATE ON PTDF SCHOLARSHIP FOR THOSE WHO WERE NOT SHORTLISTED FOR MSC (HURRY)

If you had 2.1 in your First degree and you are sure you submitted the required documents, chosen course tailors and u meet d age requirement

Call the Flexisaf guys on 0706 941 4970 thereafter send an e-mail including your PIN stating your complaint to:
ptdf.scholarships@flexisaf.com

Some guys who were not have been shortlisted now.

how do i know my pin?

OLAADEGBU:
Is that book God breathed?

Pls read d book cos u tnk u re right doesn't mean the otHer person is wrong

[quote author=OLAADEGBU post=55234095]Christianity is a relationship with Christ while Roman Catholicism is historical religion. [/quote

Pls define wat you mean by a relationship with christ? Cos judas be get relationship wit christ

OLAADEGBU:
Christianity is a relationship with Christ while Roman Catholicism is historical religion.

Catholicism still lives on and teaches the doctrine of the saving christ

OLAADEGBU:
What book of the Bible teaches purgatory?

Maccabes

DInkMan:
Hi peers in Germany,

is it true that state of Baden-Württemberg stops tuition free in their unis this winter?

i heard they are debating to make school fees 1500 euros

TubbyTJ:
Hello, in addition to the 2*23 kg baggage does one get to carry a hand luggage too on Royal Air Maroc Economy tickets to Berlin or Germany? If yes, what's the weight please?
Thanks.

10kg

Scale Basic


Costs € 4.90 per month


Details Monthly cancellation possible - no minimum contract term
Settlement fully processed and managed via the Fintiba web application
Compulsory deposit insurance of 100.000 EUR granted by German law
Blocking confirmation accepted and approved by the German Federal Foreign Office
Note: A current account at a German bank is necessary to set up and receive your monthly payouts



please can someone explain in detais...this is from FINTIBA.....SUTOR BANK

eMidas:
So, how is it faster than registered mail?

yes goes straight to the outgoing mail

hybeenoni:
What's then the difference between registering a mail to be sent and sending just ordinary mail through Nipost

u can track the mail when it is registered ,ordinary mail na OYO...it can go but if one sharp man tink say na pounds dey inside.......sai baba

Well. I had a friend who worked as a flight attendant and she got into a mild argument with a guy who insisted on having EVERYTHING that was free or complimentary on the flight. He was highly annoying and constantly asked crew for stuff. If he saw someone next to him get something, he wanted it too.

At one point during the flight a lady asked for a sanitary pad to help her with an 'emergency' situation. He insisted he should have one too - cos you know, it's free, right?

My friend tried to reason with him. I'm not sure if his English was 100%, because he insisted again and seemed to assume the pad was one of these...

A sleep mask.​
​​
Upon receiving his sanitary pad he proceeded to peel the paper backing off and expose the sticky side; he stuck the thing over his eyes and soon afterwards fell asleep...

THE END.

How do we feel about child beggars?
What do we feel in our hearts when we see the homeless or the children begging in the streets, Pope Francis asked? Do we say, ‘No, those are the ones who steal? What do we feel for the poor or the homeless, even if they are well dressed but they don’t have a job and can’t pay the rent? Do we say this is normal? Do we see the homeless as part of the landscape of our cities, like statues or bus stops or post offices?
Are we touched by the plight of the poor?
We must be careful, the Pope warned, because if we eat, drink and assuage our consciences by simply giving a coin and walking past, this is not the right way to go. Instead, he said, we must realise when we are on that slippery slope from sin to corruption. We must ask ourselves, what do I feel when I see on the news that a bomb has fallen on a hospital and lots of poor children have been killed? Do I just say a prayer and go on my way like before? Is my heart touched, or am I like the rich man whose heart was not touched by Lazarus but only the dogs had pity on him? If that is the case, the Pope said, we are on the road from sin to corruption.
May the Lord look into our hearts
For this reason, he concluded we must ask the Lord to look into our hearts to see if we are on that slippery slope to corruption, from which there is no return. Sinners can repent and turn back, he said, but it is very hard for those with closed and corrupt hearts, so let us pray that the Lord will show us which road we are following.

Reflecting on the Gospel story of Lazarus, from St Luke’s Gospel, Pope Francis warned against those who place their trust in things of the flesh. Trusting in vanity, pride and riches, he said, will distance us from the Lord. He highlighted the fruitfulness of those who trust in the Lord and the sterility of those who rely only on themselves and the things they can control.

Wealth can harden our hearts
When people live in a closed environment, surrounded by wealth and vanity and trusting in their own devices, the Pope said, those people lose their sense of direction and have no idea of their limitations. Exactly as happens to the rich man in the Gospel, who spends his time at dinner parties and takes no notice of the poor man lying at his door.

Crossing the line from sin to corruption
He knew who that poor man was, he even knew his name, but he just didn’t care, the Pope said. Was he a sinner? Yes, he was, and though the Lord forgives those who repent, this man’s heart was leading him on a one-way road to death. There is a moment, Pope Francis stressed, a line that we cross when sin turns into corruption.
This man was not simply a sinner but a corrupt person because he was aware of all the suffering but he couldn’t care less. Damned are those who place their hope in themselves, the Pope said, because there is nothing more treacherous than a hardened heart. Once we are on that road, he added, it’s very hard for our hearts to be healed.

I still had to get home to Zimbabwe.

I arrived in Southern Africa about a month later. I went to a doctor and discovered that although I was extremely fit, my health was a mess. [/b]I also turned eighteen years old.

After a break, I walked into the French Embassy of one of the Southern African countries, gave the receptionist a piece of paper with my "matricule" written on it and asked to see the military attache.

I was shown through to an office and a Colonel introduced himself to me in a very friendly manner, shaking my hand and ignoring any formalities.

I began to tell him who I was.

He stopped me,[b] "I know exactly who you are", he said. He offered me a seat and then he offered me a drink. I was shocked.

He poured me a good scotch and one for himself and then said, "How on earth did you get from Calvi to here?".

I gave him a brief rundown and then said, "I decided to leave because of my friend, but I am not going to go back unless all the bullshit stops and I know that is not going to happen." It was very important for me to explain why I did what I did and that I would never have done so in time of war. I knew, of course, that no one was going to change anything because some nobody like me made a noise.

I immediately started my specialty training on heavy mortars. It was going extremely well. I was doing better than ever. Others weren't. There was an Irishman called John who one day passed out for no reason. Of course some brainless corporal started kicking him. Then he told me to kick him. Something switched my head. I ignored the corporal and hauled John over to a chair.

At the moment that the corporal had told me to kick my friend I realized I would have to make a choice. It would be the hardest choice of my life as I knew that either way I would get no reward for it, only disappointment.

There were two chaps with me who had been with me since beginning basic training. One was a Welshman we called "Taff". Taff was battling. He had made it this far but was really behaving strangely. Physically he was okay, but he was clearly losing his mind.

We were given a four hour pass into Calvi. A Scotsman from another company was with us. We had some drinks at the "Song and Guitar". We had to be back in front of our beds for the last of the three daily roll calls at 10pm.

At the end of the evening Taff refused to get in the taxi. Then he started shouting at us to leave him alone because he had had enough. The Scotsman and I had to hit him to get him into the car in the end. If we didn't and he got to the barracks late, he would go inside for ten days and be beaten every day.

On the way back Taff started crying. I realised that he wasn't that drunk. He told me he couldn't take it anymore and was going to kill himself. I knew he meant it. I suddenly made my decision.

"I'll help you get home, Taff," I said.

I had done the impossible getting this far, but knew that if I didn't get him home Taff would end up killing himself for certain.

The next day, ostensibly to take uniforms into Calvi for dry cleaning for the sergeants (the back actually held our track suits), I walked out the gate.

Just recently a former Royal Marine had kayaked all the way to Italy in a stolen kayak in an attempt to get away. He managed it but was then picked up and sent back by the Italians.

Taff and I would have to get through Corsica and across the sea to France. Then we would need to go all the way through France and across the channel to the UK. We had shaved heads, no civilian clothes, the equivalent of about $100 and no documents other than our Legion ID.

One week later, after three times running into the Gendarmes and MPs and getting away again, as well as a bunch of other challenges, we arrived in the UK. I had slept only five hours in the entire time and when we finally arrived my body went into convulsions.

In Corsica I did really well and came in second overall in the selection and para-training.
We were joined in the training by legionnaires who had come from other regiments. There were also a couple of older legionnaires (most of the chaps coming in were in their mid-twenties but could be anything up to forty at enlistment).

One of these older legionnaires was called Ron Pereveresoff. He was Canadian originally and had fought in the Rhodesian Bush War with the Rhodesian Light Infantry, then he had done five years in the REP. After that he had joined the Isreali army. I met him as he had rejoined the REP.

Ron (he insisted we call him by his first name despite being a corporal) came and ate with me one day and asked what I was doing there. I was confused, I mean what were any of us doing there? What was he doing there? Then he told me to go home.

I was stunned. "What do you mean?", I asked

"Don't Bleep up your life like I have" he said. "You are still a kid, so it's not too late, but you need to get out of here now otherwise you are going to end up worse than anyone around here". This was a shock as I respected and liked him.

Years later, I heard how Ron Pereversoff died whilst fighting against the Serbs for the Kosovars. He was a Lieutenant commanding a company. They were joined by a bunch of "mujahedin" volunteers who were immediately disgusted to find a Jew fighting on their side. One night they shot him in the head while he was sleeping.

I was sent to the compagnie d'éclairage et d'appui (reconnaissance and support) and to SML, the heavy mortar platoon. This decision was literally made by the Colonel flipping a coin to decide who would go where. No one wanted to end up in SML. This was considered the harshest and least glamorous of the whole REP. The men there were also the fittest and nearly all needed their heads read. I was unlucky.

Y was also there for his attempted suicide. A friend was raped repeatedly. This would happen at night when we were locked in our cells (we would get about three hours to sleep and would do hard labour the rest of the time). We did not know which of the guards was doing it, but we could hear it and then we would hear the poor guy crying. We pretended not to know what was happening so as to leave the poor guy some dignity.

After my twenty days, I mistakenly thought my punishment was over. Actually it was only beginning.

On being released, the first person I saw was Sergeant-Chef R. He quietly told me that I was forbidden to speak to another Legionnaire except when directly necessary for the work. If I disobeyed he would "hand me over to the Caporal-Chefs for their pleasure".

It is difficult to explain what it it means to remain totally silent in a team under extreme pressure and stress. The others don't know why you are just staring at them and ignoring them and they very quickly begin to hate you. To make it even worse the corporals spread a little lie that I had told the MPs where Frank was. Never mind the obvious fact that they never found him. The guys were to stressed and angry to care. They wanted my blood.

One night I walked into our particular barrack room and found four of my fellow legionnaires seated in a row. This was clearly unusual because we were never allowed to do anything except stand, other than to sleep. Furthermore, other fellow legionnaires were crowded around and all the Corporals were there.

The door closed behind me. The largest man among us all called Miles, then told me I was going to be "tried" for "grassing on Frank". He was a former Scots Guard, about six foot five and 250 lbs and covered in messy tattoos. I am only six foot and at that stage weighed about 165 lbs.

Miles ordered me to "salute the court". I stared at him and did nothing, so he tried to slam both hands against my ears.

I let him have it. I boxed as a kid and was always a lot faster and stronger than people expected, especially for my size and age. He was completely over confident and really didn't see it coming. I had also reached the end of my tether long back and was close to losing my mind.

I ended up standing over him with a steel stool in my hand, ready to bring it down on his head. It would have killed him stone dead.

An American called P was shouting at me to "do it".

I looked around and saw Caporal O rubbing broken glass from a bottle into his scalp in frustration. I dropped the stool and looked around. I walked out.

After that I did better and better physically and I became extremely aggressive. I would fight anybody who even looked at me the wrong way. I earned the respect of the corporals, sergeants and officers. But, the reason for my aggression was, I was beginning to hate myself.

At the end of my basic training I was chosen to be sent to the REP. The Sergeant-Chef got chatty with me before I left and started giving me all sorts of advice for when I got there. I ignored him.

Before I had even gone 20 meters a fist knocked me to the ground from behind. I was ordered to my feet and then immediately knocked down again. This went on until I was knocked unconscious. Then a bucket of water was thrown over me and the corporals started again. The method was not to use a fist as that hurt the fist and left marks. Instead the base of the palm was used.

A week later I took off over the fence with Frank, a British ex-2 Para bloke, much older than me, who had served in the Falklands war and in Northern Ireland.

We went to my old school. We would run cross country during the night and sleep in small woods, "spooning" against the cold (December at the base of the Pyrenees), as we both only had our track suits on.

When we arrived there I left Frank out in a nearby treeline and walked in. The rector told me that the Military Police and Gendarmes had just left. I explained that I just wanted to make a phone call and get something out of the bag that I had left there for safekeeping.

I got a pile of clothes and all the money I had and gave it to Frank. A teacher friend at the school gave him a lift as far as he could. I never saw him again.

Then I sat down with the teacher and explained what I needed to do.

We called the barracks and asked to speak to the Colonel commanding the regiment.

We were put through to a Commandant (Major). The teacher explained that I was there, and wanted to tell him something over the phone with the teacher listening. (French phones then had an extra ear-piece so that a second person could listen) I told him everything. He said that if it were true it was a disgrace. Then I told him I was coming back.

The teacher drove me to the front gate and the MPs took me into custody.

I was ordered into my parade uniform and went immediately before the Colonel. My company commander, a Captain was also there.

In short, I was accused of everything under the sun. No mention was made of all the shit going on in our unit.

I was sentenced to 40 days. Then the Colonel said that because I was the first Legionnaire he had ever heard of that had voluntarily come back after taking off from basic training, I would only have to do 20 days in honour of "my balls".

I was sent to the guard house. There was a courtyard, open to the winter sky. I was stripped down, doused in icy water and then beaten with rubber truncheons. This was my welcome, it would only get worse.

After 24 hours of hell I was put with the other "punis". I joined them as they were eating at attention. A Caporal-Chef called Polar was standing on the table. The Legionnaire he was standing in front of was J.

When Frank and I had gone over the fence, J had freaked out and run. He had been caught by the Gendarmes within a few hours. He had been given 40 days. His face was swollen so badly that his eyes were just slits. His whole head was a mass of bruises.

Polar asked him laughing, "Who is the best Caporal-Chef"?

J replied, "Caporal-Chef Polar". Polar punched him in his already pulverized face.

J began to cry like a child. "All the Caporal-Chefs are the same" he said.

Polar thought this was hilarious and said, "When I hit my wife she cries, so I hit her again because then she pisses and when she pisses she doesn't cry".

I spent twenty days under this sick piece of shit.

The legion doesn't accept failure. J and others began to get more and more "attention" from the corporals and sergeants.

One of these others, a French chap called Y cracked. We found him lying in the bathroom unconscious after trying to smash his own head in by running into the wall. There had been a successful suicide in the same bathroom a few weeks earlier by hanging. I hadn't known that Legionnaire personally but had seen him around.

Y was taken to the infirmary. A few days later he was charged and sentenced to forty days punishment for his "crime".

Then it was J's turn. After a particularly bad beating, we were in a French lesson and J cracked. He just began staring into space and mumbling to himself. He would not answer the sergeant who was giving the lesson.

Our staff sergeant stepped in. While we watched he sat down with J and hugged him. We were amazed. He then started talking to him softly. We couldn't hear what he was saying to him but it sounded like a father talking to his son. He started giving him biscuits to eat. Eventually J started responding and seemed back to normal again.

The staff sergeant told him with a kind smile to get up and helped him to his feet. Then he put his hand around the back of his neck and propelled him towards the kitchen which was at the back of the room we were in. He then forced him into a small freezer and closed the lid. I felt sick.

When J was eventually let out of the fridge he was like a zombie. From then on he just went through the motions of being a human being.

Now came my great moment to do something totally futile but important to me. I approached my corporal and requested to see the lieutenant.

The corporal looked at me like I had gone completely insane and asked why. I told him I wanted to tell him about all the abuse that was going on. He laughed his head off. Then he told me to come with him.

He took my to the same staff sergeant. They spoke. The staff sergeant laughed and told me to present myself. I did what I was ordered then he said, "Young, tu pense trop" (Young, you think too much) and ordered me to follow him.

I was taken to the lieutenant, went through the same drill and then was asked why I wanted to see him. I told him everything that had been happening.

He did not say one word about it, just dismissed me.

I am happy to go through hell if that is the system and process necessary to get to the objective. I don't accept having the shit kicked out of me by some brainless ape for his amusement. I was joining the military, not a gang.

I had my nose and several ribs broken in the first few weeks. There was no taking off of stripes by the responsible corporal and squaring up. I had to stand there while the son of a bitch took swings at me.

The reason for this punishment was that I had requested to see our lieutenant.

I had seen a particularly bad beating during a long run. The recipient twisted his ankle while running ahead of me. The same corporal had screamed at him to get up. He did get up but couldn't walk let alone run. The corporal began pushing him and then punching him on the back of the head every time he fell. He basically hopped the rest of the way and then ended up in hospital.

My blood boiled when I saw this but it was training, and however twisted and extreme, there was some objectivity to it. Then something happened to a friend. There was no objectivity to it whatsoever.

J was an English Legionnaire. His father had been a famous soldier in the SAS who had written a couple of books. He was a few years older than me (everyone was) but we had become good mates.

As I began to get do well in the hellish training regimen, J struggled more and more. He was strong but just didn't have any stamina and just couldn't pick up French fast enough.

I immediately crossed to France, spent a couple of months at my old school there and then one day got a lift with a friend to Toulouse and signed up.

I was fit, very strong for my age and for my weight but also obviously young. That was quickly sorted out. Although "anonymat" or a new identity is often given, in my case I didn't have any past or crimes to hide, so I was just given a new date of birth to make me old enough for enlistment.

I went through a selection process and discovered that I was one of the ten percent accepted. Of that ten percent only the best ten percent at the end of basic training would be allowed to go for selection for the 2eme REP.

Before we went off to the training regiment in Castelnaudary, our intake paraded into the museum to swear the oath of allegiance before the General commanding French Foreign Legion, General Le Corre. Unfortunately, his gloriousness couldn't make it. Then, instead of another officer standing in and hearing us swear, they just called it off and we went to have our lunch. This made a huge impression on my idealistic young mind. I was totally confused. How could they just abandon something so important.

Basic training was hell. The actual training itself was tough, but the endless, sleep and food deprivation combined with the cold and endless discipline was miserable. Still, I understood that it was necessary and was what "made" a legionnaire.

After a few months I began to do well. I just had one problem. I hated bullies. I always have and always will.

More accurately I went AWOL from French Foreign Legion's elite 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment. I was seventeen years old.

At the time the minimum age to be in "the REP" was 21. I was apparently the youngest man to have ever earned his wings in the Legion. I was based at Camp Raffalli in Calvi in Corsica.

This picture was taken at the 1ere RE in Aubagne when I was first accepted for basic training at the 4eme RE in Castelnaudary. I was about to have my life, my face and my mind rearranged.

To be accepted into the legion was a very proud moment for me. After an "interesting" childhood, I suppose to my naive young mind, it meant a chance to be in control of my life.

I could not have been more wrong. I certainly wouldn't be in control of my life. In fact the Legion wasn't going to be in charge of my life either.

I would discover that my life was in the hands of my direct superior, usually a corporal and the sergeant above him, and my fellow legionnaires. Every single moment of every 20 hour long day was spent hungry, on our feet (forbidden to ever sit down) and freezing cold or stinking hot.

I had left school when I was sixteen, then scrounged, begged and worked to pay for a plane ticket from Zimbabwe to the UK, "to join the British Army", or so I told my parents.

Its trending on twitter, apparently according to documents released by Wikileaks Today, the almighty CIA has been spying on everybody, they are backdoors to all computers in the world at their call through every updates you do, its claimed skype conversations are turn to real time text(skype is down and asking for updates today), they have access to all our conversation through mics in all our devices form phones,to TV sets and radios.
This is coming out after claims by President Trump that Obama tapped his phone.
And there is the project #umbrage, hacking into systems through malware and making it look as if someone else did it.

THE CIA IS TRULY EVEN STRONGER THAN THE NSA

Shakitibob0:
do I need ielts to study in TUM,?

super YES,very elitist skool dem no wan hear story jus provide d documents they ask u of

Quite simply, to join the Foreign Legion, you need to present yourself to an information desk (FLIC) or at a preselection center (PC), all of which are located in France.

So, step 1 is go to France.

Once there, you will need to:

Have a valid passport or photo ID. Also be between 17 and 39 years old
Be able to write and read your maternal language. That being said, all training is in French, and while it will be taught to you, having some proficiency in the language is still trés helpful.
Once you get to a FLIC or PC, you will be given info on the legion and the terms of contract will be explained to you. The process starts when you pass your passport to a serving Legionnaire in a recruiting center. If you decide to proceed, you will be transferred to Paris, Foreign Legion Recruitment Center.

On you're in Paris you will need to:

Confirm your desire to join the Legion.
Be able to pass a basic medical screening.
Sign a 5 year contract
Again, if you pass and are still interested in joining, you will be sent to the Recruitment and Selection Center in Aubagne where you will need to:

Be able to pass psychological, personality, and logic tests
Be able to pass a more thorough medical and dental exam.
Be able to pass a background check (Interpol, among others). Contrary to popular myth, the Legion, like any other professional fighting force, is not eager to fill its ranks with criminals. Exceptions for minor convictions are possible but if you killed a man, its not likely you'll get in.
At this point, you will be given one last opportunity to either affirm your desire to join the Legion or back out.

During this entire process, accommodations and food are provided by the Legion. The whole recruiting & selection process takes (in most cases) 2 – 5 weeks.

If you pass, congratulations! You'll be given a pseudonym and begin your training as a prospective Legionnaire and start on your 5 year contract. The initial training runs 15 weeks with the first 5 weeks being the "boot camp" portion. For more details on this process and life in the Legion overall, I recommend Evan McGorman's book - Life in the French Foreign Legion: How to Join and What to Expect When You Get There.

Before you start packing your bags to France though, I want to mention some key facts:

1 in 10 recruits will not survive their first 5 year contract. The training for the Legion is among the toughest and most challenging in the world.
Once complete the training at Aubagne, you belong to the Legion. You leave by completing your term or you die.
The Legion deploys to areas like Djibouti, Cote D'Ivoire, and other high-conflict areas. Combat is a way of life for a Legionnaire.
That being said, if you injured during a battle as Legionnaire, you can immediately apply for French citizenship under a provision known as "Français par le sang versé" ("French by spilled blood".

So, if this all sounds like a good idea to you, head on over here - FOREIGN LEGION RECRUITMENT WEBSITE.
The only way of joining is to take a fight to Paris then take the metro, walk up to their recruitment center and sign up. There are 5 centers all over France but going to Paris is most advisable as its the main recruiting center. It's not very easy to get in, they have a lot of candidates arriving every day. Statically 1 in every 8 candidates get recruited. The website gives you all the information you need. No one can help you join, do some research via Google, pack your bags and leave. YouTube has a lot of videos which details the lives of légionnaires in training. Try joining in the month of March that way you do basic training on summer and not winter. Trust me it makes a difference.