₦airaland Forum

UNTIL THE POOR DECIDES TO EATS THE RICH POLITICIAN...

Till Then...

No whine me abeg.

I actually need a job Right now.

MarkNsukkaBread:
But you are a boss, why would a person who calls himself "Boss" be looking for a job?!

I am even trying to get a Job.

Ask for my CV Biko

THIS MEANS THAT THE VILLAGERS ARE A PART OF THE KINAPPING RING. (Accomplices)

EVERYONE SHOULD BE QUIZZED AND BROUGHT TO BOOK.

Lets end this insecurity.

You go dey believe politician?

I remember when GEJ pardon Alams, opposition no allow anybody breathe at all.

Now TInubu don Pardon him goons for 2027 gig.

Who dey breeathee?

I Know a youngin that would really appreciate it.

Omayie:
Any interested party should come for it.
I have long kept it and wouldn’t be needing it. However when powered it’s displays recovery mode.
Charger also available.

They should lay a complain at the police station and petition the different ride hailing apps

As dem don ban am e eyes don clear.. radarada.

Nothing we no go see

Don't insert signatures into your posts. Instead, add the desired signature to your profile.

Where are the western nations? China? USA? Canada? Australia? India?
Population is also suppose to count

LGBTQ people no go let us rest. Must you drag every one into your COVEN?

Padding has been in Nigeria since tay tay

Who else missed that Fluffy and Mercy J. of yesteryears'?

Do you know the amount of energy needed to power an 8500w motor?

My only anger is that 8500w written on it.

its not even up to 2000w

edoman2016:
One of the most popular and reliable brand of Blender in Nigeria is Silver Crest

Check the reviews both on nairaland and other sites and then get back to me

Don't say what you don't know.

Even saudi has reserved spots for alcoholics.

A Freaking 3rd world nation

Great Deal

Lionsempire:
Iphone se 2 with original box and cable
Bh 75
Sim locked
Clean black color
Lagos ogba/ikeja
07063105226 WhatsApp/call
80k only

TOKS, First body, Accident free.


All na Stolen car.

Baba dey wok

Bulllsheeet and more.

DesChyko:
Thank God for leaders like Alex Otti. Some people are all about re-election and state capture; man is just doing his job.

Someone that MUST RUN for 2nd TERM, Even if he does nothing... He has done Multiples of 8 years work already since the days of OUK.

WIW

DeloitteNG:
3 k for the first fifteen acct to quote

OPAY

7062372743

Abegi oh

Make I go warm up for Agege Stadium

Lets all SOAK GARRI

In the heart of Ebute Metta, where the railway hums like a restless ghost and the air carries the scent of rust and rain, there stood a house at the very end of Olonode Street. Hidden behind a rusted iron gate and a compound of overgrown ewa agoyin plants, it was known only as Ile Olori Buruku—the House of Misfortune.

Children crossed the street rather than walk past it. Agberos avoided its fence. Even the okada riders, fearless and swift, refused fares that stopped anywhere near its cracked driveway.

But Tunde didn’t believe in ghost stories. He had returned from the UK, confident and disillusioned, seeking cheap property to turn into co-living apartments. The old colonial mansion, three floors high with a sagging balcony and blood-red shutters, was perfect—price slashed to a quarter of its value. “Nobody go tell you the real reason,” the agent had muttered under his breath. “Dem say the house dey hear and dey answer.”

Tunde laughed then. But not the night he moved in.

That first night, the house seemed to breathe. The ceiling fan turned on by itself. A transistor radio—disconnected and broken—crackled with whispers in Yoruba, twisted and ancient. Somewhere above, footsteps paced slowly, deliberately, on a floor he hadn’t stepped on yet.

By 3:07 a.m., Tunde was wide awake. He heard a knock—three times—on his bedroom door. He opened it, expecting no one. But there was a trail of white sand leading down the hallway, and at the end of it, a woman in iro and buba, her back to him, standing still.

“Hello?” he asked, voice cracking.

She turned—but her face was missing, replaced by a blank stretch of skin where eyes and mouth should have been.

The next morning, Tunde went to Makoko to speak with an old babalawo who had once lived near Olonode. The man sighed, deep and heavy.

“You have entered a house that remembers sorrow,” he said. “That place once belonged to a slave merchant who betrayed his own blood for wealth. Every generation, the house feeds on pride—especially those who laugh at spirits.”

Tunde tried to leave.

But every okada that tried to take him away from the house broke down at the gate. Buses swerved. Ubers disappeared off the app. Even walking made no difference—he’d loop the block only to find himself back at the front gate again, like the neighborhood was folding around him.

By the third week, neighbors said they could hear him at night—talking to someone. No one ever saw who. And eventually, no one saw him.

But if you pass Olonode Street today—especially just before dawn—look up. One of the top floor windows will be lit. A figure stands there, silhouetted against a flickering bulb.

And if you look too long, the window might blink.

Can THEY JUST RETIRE?

Dem don start!

Guyman

Make I just shut up for this Matter before APC RATS go ask me why I no pay the money!

I spit on the Nigerian State that does not value life.

Tueh!!

He who fears his life loses it.