₦airaland Forum

SamaritanLady:
Imagine showing us a 3D image! This propaganda is stale already.

You are just 40 mins on Nl and already discrediting people ??

Beremx:
no one is advising Tinubu. He's doing it all by himself. He's bent on in caging critics by taking us back to Abacha era.
2027, is fast coming. Nigerians can't wait to kick him out. The suffering is unbearable.

Baby it’s not fast coming . It’s 3 years—don’t think I can wait

J

chiagozien:
I don't know if to keep it to myself.


He recently told me his intention to marry her, But before then he found out the lady know me through her comment on my Facebook post, Which he asked me if I know the lady.
I told him yes that she's my friend but I didn't go deep to the level our friendship was.
He's asked me if she's my girlfriend that he don't want it be dragging a woman with his brother.
I told him no problem that he should go on with her if he likes her(Already tired of her and didn't know it will lead to marriage discussion) The girl confirmed to my cousin she knows me very well and even know where I live in City,told him my area and street.
But I don't know if she told him our level of friendship.


But before then the girl reached out to me and told me my cousin (junior) is asking her out, That what's our stand, Which I told her to go on if she like him.
Her reply was I am the one she love most but she doesn't understand my attitude towards her again.

I said Okay.


Now my cousin is talking about marrying her, Even some days ago I was with both of them drinking, watching Masquerade and being entertained (I went to my Town for new yam festival)

The lady lives in the same city with me, From where we meet,She came back,I don't know if is for the festival or for the marriage matter because my cousin base in my Town for now.



We dated for three months before I started ghosting her because of a character I can't live with.
She is too possessive.

No lady will pass without her asking why do you look her Nash.(Even when i May not noticed the lady that passed)

Questions of how many girls you collected their numbers today, how many girls toasted you today.
Always demand to go through my phones.


Outside that she had no issues with the little I know her.



I don't know if to mind my business because he's the cousin I am more close to.

j

When it comes to impersonation , just count me out—I'm always unlucky

Back in early 2006, the Anambra state governor paid a visit to my community. It was the biggest event we had ever seen. The whole place was buzzing with excitement—community leaders, the vigilante heads, even the women leaders were being rewarded left and right. The governor carried this shiny briefcase stuffed with wads of cash, handing it out like Santa Claus at a Christmas parade. Oh, how I wished I could just casually dip my hand in that briefcase without anyone noticing!

Anyway, after he finished rewarding the Palm Wine Tappers Association, the governor called for the youth leader to come forward and claim his cash. But bro was nowhere to be found—probably off somewhere with his babe enjoying the spoils of palm wine.

That’s when my friend Ekabo gave me *the look* and motioned for me to step up and claim the money. Without thinking twice, I walked right up there, all set to impersonate the youth leader. The second I grabbed that cash, it was like holding a fresh fish straight out of the water—cool and slippery. I was already dreaming of my escape, but just as I turned to leave, the real youth leader popped up out of nowhere like the final boss in a video game.

Before the poor guy could even finish explaining, one of the soldiers, who had the build of Goliath himself, charged at me like a bull. Next thing I knew, I was airborne, and then, boom—I was tossed into the back of their Hilux like some stolen goods. Three long days I spent in the guardroom in Awka before my father and the Igwe finally came to bail me out.

To top it off, I got 30 solid strokes of the cane during the next town meeting in the village square. The cash slipped through my fingers, but I walked away with a life lesson: never try to be who you're not, or you might just end up getting kicked like a football.

EvilMerodack:


Amnesty International should rest or go queue behind the rest(NLC and SERAP)

We arent being ruled by mad men who go about flexing muscles unneccessarily to bully the weak. As any logical person would assume, there would have been some investigations carried out before it got to this level


This group should demand explanations first before releasing this empty article. Please, Lets stand for the Truth

God bless PBAT

Call me on video from your work place tomorrow, I will answer from mine

I will credit you 30k instantly after the call . I will drop my WhatsApp if you are in

EvilMerodack:


Who goes on strike just because one person in faraway Abuja is being held in DSS custody?

We arent that jobless

Imagine closing down your business/ notifying your HR of your absence from work just because Ajaero has been arrested

Thats the height of unseriousness

I need a prove that you have a job ? Please

Reminds me of my 3-month relationship with Njideka . Was like an episode of *Game of Thrones*—minus the dragons, but with plenty of drama. A little war, a little adventure. Being my first relationship, I was out here trying to make it work, but I was also doing a PhD in jealousy and insecurity. Not because I didn’t trust her, but because, you know, I didn’t want another guy sampling my all-you-can-eat buffet.

One cold evening, I was walking back from my favorite football viewing center, dodging Oga Oke’s shop like a ninja because I still owed him for a beer I bought for my friend the night before. Just as I was about to give Mama Nkechi, the food vendor, a wave (bless her heart, her beans were like magic), I saw the love of my life, Njideka, holding hands with some random dude.

Now, I didn’t wait for an explanation. Nope. I unleashed a slap on her face with the confidence of a man who’d just conquered a kingdom. The guy took off faster than I could say "run," and Njideka stormed off in the opposite direction. Feeling like I’d just won a small war, I swaggered into my apartment, full of pride and misplaced victory.

Little did I know that her younger brother is a Soldier Yep, the one who had been fighting Boko Haram for five years. On getting to my apartment with Njideka , he beat me like I was a piñata at a birthday party. I guess he mistook me for Turji Bello or one of the bandits Sambisa . Bless the men in our compound who rescued me that night , bless my Caretaker whom I didn’t know was a retired soldier and thank God for giving me the opportunity to testify to this in person

My relationship with Njideka didn’t end that night , but I did learn how to control my anger that night

Anything involving another man’s territory is a big no-go for me! I learned my lesson the hard way back when I was dabbling with widows and single mothers.

There was this time I met a young widow, Sonwa. I kept asking myself how any man could leave this fine woman for the land of the spirits. Tall, thick, and the fairest lady I had ever laid eyes on. Just a glance at her full, round chest could bring a dying man back to life ! Honestly, I considered myself lucky—Mr. Wajo had generously left me this treasure after taking a one-way trip to the afterlife. May his soul rest in peace.

So, it was salary day, and my wallet was stuffed like a Christmas turkey with 500 naira notes. I was at the bar with the widow, Sonwa, and the only thing on my mind was whether to order suya or nkwobi and what brand of booze to get next. Saving for the future? Pfft, who needs that?

We spent every last penny, and I was definitely feeling the buzz when she insisted I walk her home. Knowing her husband had moved on to the great beyond, I boldly agreed, thinking nothing could go wrong. I was clueless, walking straight into the jaws of death.

We arrived at her compound, and I swear, everyone was looking at me like I was a British explorer wandering into the king’s palace in the 1930s. Just as I was about to crack a joke, a strange-looking man emerged from her room. He was so tall, I couldn’t even make out his face—though let’s be honest, I’m a short man

Before I could ask my widow who the guy was, this mysterious dude slapped me so hard my ear started picking up static like an old radio with no signal. I couldn’t hear a thing! Whatever he was saying while pounding me like yam of the previous year, I couldn’t hear any .

When I finally stumbled home that evening, even my dogs didn’t recognize me! They chased me down like I was a thief, and my neighbors were ready to call the police. It was then that I realized this guy had rearranged my entire face with his hands of fury.

Lesson learned: I won’t even walk a woman to her street, let alone her house, ever again!

These so-called women beaters have clearly never crossed paths with my ex-girlfriend, Chizoba. Hands down, the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on, sweet as sugar and talented at, well, everything —which is exactly why she ended up becoming one of the most successful hookup queens in Nigeria.

A while back, I got curious and decided to disguise myself as a rich guy to chat her up. She hit me with the "400k for one night or nothing" line. Meanwhile, I’d be thanking God if I saw that kind of money in a year!

But rewind to our relationship days, back when she was still getting the hang of her street hustle. One fateful evening, she came home at 9 p.m., way later than expected. I was fuming, thinking, “I’m the man of the house!” So, in a fit of stupidity, I slapped her without waiting for an explanation.

Big mistake.

As soon as I followed up with a second slap, I suddenly learned the true meaning of “what a man can do, a woman can do better.” Before I knew it, she yanked me by my worn-out shirt and served me a slap so hard it nearly rearranged my face. It felt like one of her fingers jabbed straight into my eye socket.

While I was still trying to regain my vision, she upgraded the beating—launching the pointy end of her Akpola shoe directly at my head. Blood was pouring down my face like I was auditioning for a horror movie. The girl didn’t stop until our compound's resident enemy, Mr. Tolu (who I was always fighting with), rushed in to save me from further damage.

Lesson learned: never again will I raise my hand to a woman. Chizoba taught me that the hard way.

Ah, flashback to my one and only day at Atani Boys. The school was basically a gathering of kids from humble homes and house helps, so when I showed up, I felt like a king among peasants—or, more accurately, a one-eyed man in the land of the blind.

Now, don’t get me wrong, my dad didn’t throw me into Atani because we were struggling. No, no. I was just that kid who consistently came last in class at my old school. He figured Atani Boys might level the playing field. Spoiler: It did not.

So there I was, entering JSS3B, and I swear, everyone looked like they had been personally offended by life itself. Even Mr. Ajo, the CRS teacher, welcomed me with a face so grim it could have curdled milk.

When lunch came around, I proudly pulled out my rice—only to realize I was the only kid in the entire school with an actual meal. The murderous stare from one kid, Okite, whose face seemed to be permanently stuck in “angry mode,” made that rice taste like sawdust. I was too scared to even swallow.

But then, the real drama happened. Just as I opened my water bottle, a few drops splashed onto Okite. Before I could apologize or explain, I blinked and found myself in the principal’s office, drenched in water... the same water they had just used to revive me.

They told me Okite was 11, but trust me, his fists were at least 25. That was my first—and very much my last—day at Atani Boys.

Reminds me of my wild FUTO days, when I still believed in "miracle centers" for exams. So, there I was, completely clueless about who taught MTH 211 but very certain I had to pass. My friend Ekong, being the “wise” guy he is, told me about this church where the God of the pastor supposedly shows up during exams to magically fill your answer sheet.

Now, like any desperate student, I didn’t ask too many questions. Before I knew it, we were in church, vibing through the 4th offering. It was only after I emptied my wallet into the offering basket that reality hit me—unless I plan to live on air and sunshine, my next meal was probably going to be stolen. How did I let this sweet-talking pastor charm me out of all my money?

Still, I consoled myself with the thought that the pastor’s God would appear in the exam hall and start writing MTH 211 for me. Fast forward to exam day—no divine intervention in sight. Instead, I got the glorious company of Mr. Osai, who spent the entire exam staring at my blank answer sheet like he was trying to solve a mystery.

By the time we had 10 minutes left, all I had written was my name, reg number, and the course code. In my moment of desperation, I "borrowed" the answers to the objective questions from our class rep Charles, just as Mr. Osai announced we had five minutes left. Spoiler alert: 10 marks from objective questions weren’t exactly going to save me from failing.

After the exam, I delivered a solid two-piece combo to Ekong’s face. It was that punch that made him swear to refund every kobo I’d given in offerings at that “miracle” church.

Long story short, I didn’t fail. I eventually sorted the course after selling my phones. And that, my friends, was the turning point—no more miracle centers, no more miracle preachers, just me and my books.

This takes me back to my Chem 101 exam at FUTO. Now, I wasn’t exactly best friends with textbooks, but I had to impress my crush, Amaka—you know, before she turned hookup queen. So, I rolled into the exam hall, armed with cheat sheets like a professional smuggler, determined to help her pass and maybe score some brownie points.

First question I saw? A diagram that looked like the Congo map on drugs. I was about to consult my ‘notes’ when Mr. Etabor locked eyes with me. Quick as lightning, he called me to stand up. Being the sharp guy I am, I went full spy mode and tried swallowing the cheat sheet like a sandwich. Bad idea. Next thing I knew, this guy threw a punch so hard, I’m convinced he was an undercover boxer.

I woke up 30 minutes later, my jaw still vibrating like a Nokia ringtone. Everyone was gone except my then-girlfriend (whom I was constantly cheating on, Mr. Etabor, and security, all ready to escort me to the senate building. And Amaka? The one I was trying to impress? She was the one spreading the news faster than gossip in a hair salon.

Did I get expelled? Nope. But lesson learned: stick to people who actually like you

Akpakomiza2:
I meant eloquence

Everyone is confused in APC including you

NwaAmaikpe:




Sit down and ask yourself why Nigeria only excels in Paralympics and not in regular competitions.

In the former, competitors are shortlisted solely on merit, but in the later, padi-padi is the case.
One oga will remember his stubborn nephew who rides keke in the village and ask that they draft him into the National team to play Taekwando.

After all, if he can fight for motor park tickets he should be able to fight for medals.

Coach Courtuma will now strike out the name of a 'qualified' and replace it with the name of an 'instructed' who will then go and bring disgrace to Nigeria while competing with opponents from other nations.

Now the problem is, most ogas don't have kit or kin who are disabled, so the best of the best get to represent Nigeria and that's why Nigeria excels.

Insecurity, poverty, and hunger isn't what's pulling Nigeria down; nepotism and padi-padi is.

wc back bro , what’s your beer brand ? Reply with your OPay please 🫡

angelboy01:
Evil snake just like my ex. I hope you change your ways wherever you are Anabel.

her name is Anabel and you still went ahead to date her ??

Tinubu is not a drug lord; rather, he is an unsuccessful drug dealer. His failure in that realm stems from the same flaw causing his failure in governance (greed) . True drug lords are known for their strategic minds and bold leadership; you’d understand better if you delve into documentaries. It’s somewhat satisfying that those who voted for Tinubu now find themselves entangled in this mess alongside the rest of us—and perhaps, they’re even suffering more.

CyrusVI:
Nigerian Police intelligence Unit is top-notch

I wonder how and why they fail in other important and bigger cases

Rip to her

I can solve this crime if the government give me access to all softwares I would ask for

The criminal is not intelligent.

It’s very easy to solve crimes in Nigeria , don’t give any glory to the cops . They can do better

Watch foreign documentary about serial killers , then come back to take back your kudos

How many out of the 6kids belongs to your brother ?

You can upgrade to iPhone6 please

Factcheck0001:
Chief mourner will always b present in his mourning cloth

Too much idleness

He is not Idle, he knows how to use his time

Make them just seize am and release our assets

Trump or Nothing

Person wey suppose Dey bush with im cows , Una go make am teacher

But you are ruling under fake declaration from INEC

Nukilia:
Send the guy to firing squad straight

He probably scammed 50 people . What about the man that has been scamming 200 million people for close to a year now

Aboki head of intelligence agency 😂😂

This voice Dey do music ?? Abi ear Dey pain me