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fawaz050:Biomedical Engineering |
Me don get my alert oo |
[img]http://2.bp..com/-NE96EWkHml4/V9GaVP7J7OI/AAAAAAAArWA/Zk0V5UgsJ2gzNy2nowr9G29KOcv6eh3sgCLcB/s1600/LAGOS%2B4.jpg[/img] 28yrs old Elochukwu Nnoruga is to spend 6 months in jail for stealing N214,000 tithe belonging to St. Patrick Catholic Church, Idumaigbo, Lagos. Magistrate Ade Adefulire of the Tinubu Magistrate’s Court in Lagos, who gave the sentence on Thursday, ruled that the convict would spend the six months in Ikoyi Prison and gave him no option of fine. According to NAN, Nnoruga was arraigned on Aug. 17, on suspicion that he stole the amount from the Church’s tithe box. He pleaded guilty to the one-count charge of theft. In his judgment, the magistrate expressed disgust that people could steal from the house of God. “It is a pity that people do not see the house of God as sacred anymore. This judgment should serve as a lesson to the public, if you choose crime instead of hard work, the hand of the law will always catch up with you." The prosecutor, Mr Ben Ekundayo, had told the court that the convict committed the offence on Aug. 14, at about 2 p.m., at St. Patrick Catholic Church, Idumaigbo, Lagos. Ekundayo said that the convict stole N214,000 from the tithe box after Church service. The offence contravened Section 285 of the Criminal Law of Lagos State, 2011. Magistrate Adefulire ruled: "Nnoruga, you are hereby sentenced to 6 months imprisonment, without an option of fine.” www.wecangist..nl/2016/09/man-steals-tithe-of-n214000-from.html |
sholatem:Amen, Thanks bro! |
Full Episode at www.wecangist..com |
Episode 1
A typicall Friday night for me is the club. I
need to unwind after a hard week of work.
Monday to Friday is the usual grind of the mill
period, work and work till the point of
exhaustion. So I do not compromise my
weekend relaxation except it is absolutely
unavoidable. This memorable weekend, I had
gone to my usual hangout with two others of
my girlfriends, two fellow Hot bitches. We
were all Hot but obviously our F**K buddies
had prior engagement, so the consensus was
to go clubbing, pump as much spirit and weed
into our systems as possible, then settle for
girl-girl loving. Our numerous dongs, vibs and
strap-ons were considered to be good
alternative for hard, veiny, pulsing, blood
pumping cocks. I don’t think so anyways but
what’s a Hot girl to do in the face of a
dearth of cocks?
Anyways, this fateful Friday night, we had
gone to our usual haunt in search of fun and
pleasure. Usual dingy, shadowing atmosphere,
the best place for owls like my friends and I.
We drank, danced, smoked and generally felt
high. But after a time, I got bored and as
Hot as hell. None of the guys around
showed any signs of being adventurous or
what I wanted. Of course we had enough guys
making those normal signals opposite sexes
make when they want to mate. But I needed
adventure, someone who would totally sweep
me off my feet s*xu@lly. I wanted a predator,
not those tame cats I saw skulking around me
making mewling noises that they thought
could pass for growls. So I decided to go
Nice Stories To Read
Story: Crazy
Story: Crazy
outside away from all that smoke sweat from
the press of several bodies.
?I smelled the welcoming fresh air as I got
outside to the car park. It was kind of
intoxicating and made me hornier than ever
before. I needed my Kittyc@t handled, I needed
my body touched, I needed to be used. I
inhaled the fresh air and moved to where I
had parked my car. Thank God we brought my
car, I thought to myself as I opened the
driver’s door and sat but with my feet still on
the floor. I guess my dress was adding to my
Hot state as it was extra-ordinarily short
with it barely covering my crotch and my
b0s0m were straining against the polyester
material, trying to get free. My Tips were
outlined against the stretchy material, taut
and as hard as stone.
I wasn’t wearing a bra so it was easy for me
to get at my Bos*m as all I had to do was pull
down my strapless dress, which I promptly did
exposing my mammoth Bos*m in all their
glory. Not to sound vain but I love my Bos*m,
they excite me to no ends as I love touching
them, feeling their heaviness and squeezing
my taut Tips. Sometimes I find myself rubbing
my Bos*m through the fabric of my dress
even while in the office. Squeezing and
pinching my Tips always ensures me of a mini
orgasms and I always indulge myself in this
vice. Back to my story, I started handling my
Bos*m, squeezing and pinching the Tips,
sending electric shock through the length and
breathe of my body. I was flooding my thighs
as the crotch of my G-string could not contain
the Kittyc@t juice flowing into it. I spread my
legs wider and was rewarded by a breath of
air blowing on my sensitive cl!t and Kittyc@t
lips as my dress had bunched above my
butt0ckz, I was virtually Unclad except for the
flimsy excuse of a p@nty I was wearing. I
dipped a finger into my unencumbered
K!ttyC@t and scooped out Kittyc@t juice,
brought the soaked finger to my lips and
licked it clean.
Delicious, I thought to myself, increasing the
fingers first to two and then three until I was
trying to force the whole of my hand into my
soaking wet K!ttyC@t. I was making thrusting
motions, finger-fu-Cking myself to an orgasm
that was fast approaching. I needed the
release, so I increased the pressure on my
snatch while seriously pinching and squeezing
my Bos*m at the same time. I was very nearly
there when I was brought back to reality by
voices. I opened my closed eyes and saw two
guys standing above and in front of me. I was
flustered not because of them but because I
had not been allowed to reach my much
needed orgasm. I looked up at them and
smiled sheepishly, I was thrilled! Two guys!
when all I thought I would be making do with
was my hand and a Love Machine afterwards.
‘’Need any help?’’ the taller of the guys asked,
his eyes staring at my heaving Bos*m and my
fingers still coated in Kittyc@t juice on my
crotch. ![]() ?
I just smiled as I took my soaked hand to my
lips and licked each finger clean while staring
at them all the while. It seemed like their eyes
would fall out of their head as it bulged. The
bulge in their trousers was enough to tear the
thing off.It was obvious that they were
aroused beyond belief. Not surprising as it’s
not every day one encounters a willing
Kittyc@t in the car park. The other guy that
had been quiet all along, got on his knees and
before the blink of an eye was licking and
eating my Kittyc@t out. I groaned as I was
finally getting what I wanted, attention. The
other guy proceeded to stuff his stiff Joys in my mouth,
I
guess to stifle my mo@ns but
the noise from the club was already drowning
that out so I guess it was just to give my
mouth something to do. I didn’t mind where
that J0ystick was coming from as I sU-Cked
and licked for all I was worth. It was an
average sized J0ystick and it didn’t take too
much of an effort for me to deep throat him. I
sU-Cked,licked and nipped his J0ystick as
much as I could in the cramped position I was
in but I didn’t mind the discomfort as the guy
eating my Kittyc@t was sending enough
pleasure through me to counter the
discomfort. The guy was a real connoisseur of
Kittyc@t as he proceeded to make sure that his
tongue reached all the nooks and crannies
that were normally hidden. I managed to show
my pleasure and appreciation despite the
J0ystick in my mouth by bucking upwards as
much as I can in the cramped space to make
my Kittyc@t more exposed and available to his
ministration. I jerked upwards and forwards
towards his mouth. |
[img]http://4.bp..com/-Q5qTSLWeOps/V86HNJ465vI/AAAAAAADGPU/HS0-YHa90X8cy8ZEgP2vtVOJiCfA3d6RACLcB/s1600/Untitled.png[/img] Footage of a bizarre looking pig has emerged online .The creature appears to have a human face and a 'penis on its forehead. It is unclear where the video originated from but it has been widely shared on Chinese social media .A similar case happened in China last year after a farmer discovered one of his 19 piglets was born with a human face and penis.The piglet later died after being rejected by its mother and refusing a bottle [img]http://4.bp..com/-2MPpHhQwITY/V86FNuzmxaI/AAAAAAADGPE/Tp6TAqlf2owFPgovxjM31Q2403ZZSWyYACLcB/s1600/Deformed-pig-found-in-a-Chinese-village.jpg[/img] Source : www.wecangist..com |
[img]http://1.bp..com/-b1g1KIif4PE/V86U0W346kI/AAAAAAAArIQ/2HGYfDFh_kIkukNyqqnKdwYT9cPdmnOkQCLcB/s1600/LIFE%2B9.jpg[/img] While growing up in Port Harcourt, I heard my parents use the words "ALAJO SOMOLU" on many occasions in a positive remark, without having an idea of the story behind the 'character'. Here's the story as shared by Consultville: Alphaeus Taiwo Olunaike is not a name that many Nigerians are familiar with. But once you mention Baba Alajo Somolu, the eyes of millions of Nigerians will light up. Yes, they are more familiar with this nomenclature. He was born at a very dangerous time. A perilous period in Nigeria's history. It was on the 16th of September 1915 in the tiny city of Isan-Oyin (now called Isonyin), close to Ijebu-Musin and Ijebu-Ode in Ogun State, southwestern Nigeria. Within the thick groves of thick forests and the brilliant foliage of green tropical plants, the cries of newly-born babies pierced the calm and peace of the forest. A woman named Grace Okuromiko Olunaike had given birth to triplets. Three at once! Immediately she was told that she just gave birth to three babies, her face went sullen. She could not hide the sadness. Her heartbeat increased as tears streamed down her warm face. She was visibly confused. It was an abomination for a woman to give birth to triplets at that time in Yorubaland... One child must be sacrificed to the gods. One of the babies was eventually sacrificed to the gods. The other two were spared. One of them is whom I am writing on right now – Alajo Somolu. Baba Alajo Somolu was just three years of age when he lost his father. However, he was able to proceed with his education. He started his primary education at the Emmanuel Primary School, Ijebu-Isonyin. He had not finished his education at his small hamlet when his paternal uncle, STA Torimoro came and took him to Lagos where he was able to further his education. Long after he narrowly escaped being sacrificed to the gods, in the year 1927, he arrived Lagos and he was enrolled at the St. Johns School, Aroloya. From there, he proceeded to the Christ Church Cathedral School, Lagos, and finishedthere in 1934. Two years after his education, he was enrolled as an apprentice under a tailor named Rojaye. He was a tailor-in-training for nine good yearsbefore he got his ‘freedom’. When hestarted working as a tailor, he noticed that the income was not just going to be sustainable for him and he needed an alternative fast.Therefore, when the younger brother of his late dad, STA Torimoro, was going to Cameroon on a commercial trip, Baba Alajo Somolu decided he would also seize the opportunity and follow him too. Thus, in 1950, BabaAlajo Somolu was on his way to Paul Biya’s nation. Upon reaching Cameroon, Baba Alajo Somolu unleashed the ferocious entrepreneurial spirit that was in him. A very determined fellow, he tried his hands on various tasks and duties in Cameroon. He sold goods, newspapers and tried his hands on many ventures. In Cameroon, one of his neighbours was a thrift collector and he gisted him about the business which immediately caught his fancy.As a a result, by thetime he returned to Nigeria in 1954, he already had it in mind that he was going to start the business of ajo gbigba (thrift collection). He was 39 at that time. Before he left Cameroon, he took with him a copy of the thrift collection card used by his Cameroonian neighbour. Upon reaching Nigeria, he made his own copies of the card and he named his own venture Popular Daily Alajo Somolu. At the peak of his career, he was omolu who was hardworking and diligent at his work that sayings were coined in his name.The sayings are as follows: "Ori e pe bii ti alajo Somolu, to fodidi oôdun meta gbajo lai ko oruko eni kankan sile, ti ko si siwo san fenikeni." (Your brain is as sharp as that of Alajo Somolu, who collected thrift for three years and paid back all his customers without writing down a single name and without making any mistake with the payment) There is also another one that goes thus: “Ori e pe bii Alajo Somolu, to ta moto, to fi ra keke ”. (You are so intelligent like Alajo Somolu, who sold his car to buy a bicycle). For Baba Alajo Somolu to collect thrift and financial contributions from his countless clients without writing down their names and then returning to pay them as due and as scheduled at the end of every month for years without making any mistake points to an eidetic (photographic) memory . Only someone of a vast and prodigious memory with an outstanding power of recall can effortlessly carry out such an amazing feat. One very interesting thing is that many people actually think the story of Alajo Somolu is of myths and legends and that he does not exist. But alas! He did truly exist! After establishing his Popular Daily Alajo Somolu thrift collection business, he got a bicycle that he planned to use in moving around collecting money for saving from his customers. Then he called an older relative and hinted him of the business, seeking his counsel, advice and suggestion. But he was shocked. His elder relative took a good look at him and thoroughly discouraged him. He told Alajo Somolu that thrift business was not for people like him, that is was a very difficult and challenging job and he even counted about six people who had started the business of thrift collection but ended up bankrupt. He summed it up by telling Alajo Somolu to try another business as he will not succeed in thrift collection. Therefore, when the younger brother of his late dad, STA Torimoro, was going to Cameroon on a commercial trip, Baba Alajo Somolu decided he would also seize the opportunity and follow him too. Thus, in 1950, Baba Alajo Somolu was on his way to Paul Biya’s nation. Upon reaching Cameroon, Baba Alajo Somolu unleashed the ferocious entrepreneurial spirit that was in him. A very determined fellow, he tried his hands on various tasks and duties in Cameroon. He sold goods, newspapers and tried his hands on many ventures. In Cameroon, one of his neighbours was a thrift collector and he gisted him about the business which immediately caught his fancy . As a a result, by the time he returned to Nigeria in 1954, he already had it in mind that he was going to start the business of ajo gbigba (thrift collection). He was 39 at that time. Before he left Cameroon, he took with him a copy of the thrift collection card used by his Cameroonian neighbour. Upon reaching Nigeria, he made his own copies of the card and he named his own venture Popular Daily Alajo Somolu. Back to how he started: After listening to the demotivating tale of his older relative, Alajo Somolu headed to the place of his own elder sister, named Sarah. He explained that he wanted to leave the tailoring job and all that was on his mind to his dear sister. She listened carefully to all he had to say, believed in his passion and took him to a clergy who prayed for him and gave him all the support and encouragement that he needed in his new venture. He also preached to Alajo Somolu to be very honest in all his dealings, and that once he was fair and just, his business would bloom. An elated Alajo Somolu and his delighted sister left the place of the cleric full of thanks and gratitude. In September 1954, Alajo Somolu went out for the first time to collect thrift from his clients. He had launched his business and he had great hopes. Unfortunately, not a single person patronized him that first day. Many of the market women even taunted him saying he would just collect their money and vanish into the thin air. But he was not discouraged with the negative atmosphere. He persisted in riding his bicycle from stall to stall, from shop to shop until some of the market women pitied him and decided to give him a trial and gave steady contributions of some kobos. At the end of the first month, all his clients got their money complete and not a dime was missing. Baba Alajo too also made his own profit and he was doubly deligated that his clients had renewed hope in him and that the new business was actually more lucrative than the tailoring he was doing. With time, the news of his honesty, transparency and hardwork spread and his clients swelled in number. Baba Alajo’s prosperity too also shone and he built his first house at No 10, Odunukan Street in Ijesa. He later sold the house to the Deeper Life Ministry and built another one at Olorunkemi, Owotutu Area, Bariga, Lagos. In a shortwhile, his fame spread like wildfire. He was the thrift collector for the entire axis covering Awolowo Market, Oyingbo Market, Olaleye, Mile 12, Ojuwoye, Baba Oloosa, Sangross and of course in Somolu (Shomolu) where he got his nickname. His customers fell in love with him for his truthfulness, his ability to save them from financial ruins by providing life-saving loans and most importantly, for his outstanding memory. He did not also use a calculator and there were no computers either. The most amazing part of his prodigious memory is this: he does not only pay back the exact amount to his clients, he also pay them back with the same notes and coins that they contributed with. He was so exact that if a client should write down the number on his notes, he would be astonished to get the same notes back at the end of the month. Such brilliance! Anytime one of his vehicles returned after a trip of thrift collection and the car had depreciated to the point that it is no longer economically viable, he just sells off the car and buys a bicycle instead. Therefore, when people noticed that one of his vehicles was missing and a brand-new vehicle had appeared instead, they will say: Alajo Somolu has sold his car to buy a bicycle. But Alajo Somolu knew what he was doing. To him, what is the point of maintaining a car that was not bringing in profits anymore? It was better to sell it and buy more Raleigh bicycles to access all the hitherto inaccessible areas. Let me state here that many of his customers stayed with him for decades and many up to the time he died. They described him as a very friendly, reliable and honest man. He was also praised for his willingness to help others. When he died, one of the other thrift collectors in the area named Oladini Olatunji said that there was a time when he ran into some financial troubles with his business and it almost became a huge debt on him but it was baba Alajo Somolu that helped him pay off the entire debt and saved him from bankruptcy and he never told anyone. For this and many more, all other thrift collectors looked up to him as their father figure and even held the alajo (thrift collector) meetings in his house. He was happily married and as at the time he was alive, he was the Layreader and Treasurer for 30 years at the Anglican Church that he attended at Somolu . Alajo Somolu continued his job with joy until 2010 when he was 95 years old. He really wanted to continue the job but his children insisted that he had to go on voluntary retirement, and that it was time for him to rest. But you know the most amazing thing? Even though Baba Alajo Somolu followed his children’s suggestion that he retire and not go out again to receive thrift collections, his clients did not let him rest. They had so much faith in him that they personally went to his house to give him their daily contributions which they then returned to collect at the end of every month when it would have accumulated to a sizable portion. On the 11th of August, 2012, Baba Alajo Somolu breathed his last. He was not sick but died due to old age. From a humble background and with little formal education, Baba Alajo Somolu was able to remodify esusu, the traditional banking system and became a pioneer in his own right. He was clearly a fulfilled man, with the proceeds from his job, he was able to build houses, send his children to school and sustain his entire family. www.wecangist..co.id/2016/09/read-interesting-story-of-famous-alajo.html?m=1 |
MY WEDDING NIGHT (Episode 2) I really can’t write how hurt and empty i was that fateful morning. I can’t describe how devastated i was nor how my heart bled. I was totally broken and dead. I couldn’t even call my brother to tell him the bad situation i found myself. In fact my soul and my spirit ran away from me. I was just a shadow of myself. The devil just took time to urinate on my destiny. Damian’s mother never bothered nor cared about my feelings, instead pulled out the knife from her son’s body when my cries brought her to the room and almost stabbed me with fury, screaming some incoherent words, until other members of the family came in and held her. “i said it; nothing good ever comes out of Africa. She stabbed him, she probably did it in her sleep, or maybe it’s witchcraft. God save my soul” the old woman screamed and cried. I simply sat beside the bed and cried out my heart. I was just like a cornered rat. I was simply in the midst of foreigners. In the midst of people who saw me as a second class animal or probably a gold digger. None of them spoke to me nor asked how it all happened. I barely had changed my night wear when an ambulance arrived with men from the force headquarters. Before i knew what was happening, i found myself at the back of a police SUV while the perpetrator of the crime walked freely, probably watching the unfolding events from a safe distance. Another problem i had was that i didn’t know who to suspect nor accuse. They all looked the same to me. They were all a bunch of conspirators. I felt like taking my life as the police took me away, because there wasn’t any need living again. I knew the justice system would easily convict and close the case than investigating. “Who am i among a bunch of whites all accusing me of murder??”. I had nothing to prove my innocence. I was the only person in the room with Damian. The murder weapon which might have saved me through finger print test was already compromised by Damian’s mother. My life was nothing but over. Kiri kiri prison awaited me with a dark smile. How do i save myself?, how do i prove my innocence?. See Full Episodes @ www.Wecangist..com |
MY WEDDING NIGHT
Episode 1
I
write with Tears
I woke up after my wedding night to
see a knife buried in my husband’s
chest, our bed sheet soaked with
blood. I couldn’t believe my eyes, i
couldn’t believe it was all real. I held
my dead husband and looked around.
“no this can’t be happening” i breathed,
trying hard to control myself. But it
was all real, Damian was cold and still.
He was dead for real. “nooo” i sobbed
quietly, wondering what to do,
wondering the next step to take. There
was any doubt, i was about
experiencing a very terrible twist in my
life. Damian was definitely murdered by
someone who was so desperate to
destroy my happiness. I sat down on
the floor while my mind flashed back
to how i met my husband. After NYSC,
early the previous year. I came to
Abuja to live with my elder brother
who was a doctor in one of the city
hospitals. He had no problem getting
me a good job in a very popular
construction company inside the city.
Seriously i counted myself as a very
lucky girl because i was the first to get
a job among all my classmates and
friends. I started work in Damian’s
office as a secretary and that was
when my life took a dramatic turn.
Damian who was my boss, a white
and an American citizen quickly took
interest in me. He was so sweet and
caring but equally a womanizer.
Everyone warned me to be careful. My
colleagues advised me to be
professional when dealing with him
and never give in to his demands,
which i obeyed. But surprisingly he
continued disturbing me, even after
turning him down so many times. The
more i turned him away, the more
bolder he got. This continued until i
finally gave in to him. We had a very
sweet relationship that soon became
the talk of the town. As our
relationship progressed, i started
getting threats from his old girlfriends
both in Nigeria and abroad, but it never
stopped me from giving up on him.
Three months into the relationship, he
proposed to me and met my people,
drawing another shock from everyone,
especially the white community. Our
marriage was quickly fixed and i
insisted for it to be done in Nigeria
because of my family and friends
which he accepted without hesitation.
Damian’s mother, family members and
friends arrived the country two days to
our wedding. I had a very long talk
with his mum and cousins who all
tried to be nice to me even though the
resentment on their faces were
noticeable. The church wedding and
reception went very well. Damian really
spared no cost in organising the whole
show. We planned travelling to Dubai
the next day for our honeymoon, which
made us spend our first night as
husband and wife in his big house
where almost all his family members
and friends slept. Anyone of them
could have crept into the room as we
slept and struck him, but there wasn’t
any doubt i would be the major
suspect…. “Oh no” i wailed with a loud
voice, drawing the attention of
everyone in the house. Within minutes,
almost every member of the white
community was in Damian’s house. It
was as if they were all waiting for such
news…. I couldn’t believe i was married
only for one night… |
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