₦airaland Forum

Sonnobax15:

Op, are you a novelist?

Cuz how can someone whose wife is frustrating have the time to be constructing grammars like Patrick Obayaigbon when his mind isn't at peace?

When you don dey serious,we go know.....Cuz na warri langua you go use explain your predicament by then

Na way of life baba mi

I don’t even know who gave me the idea but I used to think marriage was like a delicious soup, a perfect mix of ingredients that, when cooked just right, becomes something greater than the sum of its parts.

Five years in…

I am starting to wonder if I have been served a plate of overcooked, burnt offerings instead.

Don't get me wrong o, I love my wife. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I still do.

It's just that lately,things with her feels like trying to hug a porcupine - painful, and leaving me wondering why I keep attempting it.

Why?

I usually drag myself through 12-hour shifts at work, working until my eyes blur, all to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

Meanwhile, my wife stays home with our son. It should be a fair division of labor, right?

Except lately, I feel like I'm working two full-time jobs: one at my work, and another cleaning up the messes my wife leaves in her wake.

Take last week, for instance…

I came home to find my son with a nasty bump on his forehead.

Well, my wife had been scrolling through TikTok videos while he climbed onto the kitchen counter and took a dive onto the tile floor.

When I suggested maybe she could pay a bit more attention, you'd think I'd accused her of trying to sacrifice our child to Moremi.

"Are you saying I'm a bad mother?" "Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch a toddler every second of every day?" she shouted at me like my manager at work.

I suggested it might be easier if she spent less time debating BBN housemates with her Twitter friends and more time, oh I don't know, actually watching our son. But I have learned that logic and my wife go together about as well as garri and palm oil.

Then there was the great stovetop incident of last month.

I came home to find the kitchen filled with smoke, my wife fanning at our glass-top stove with a dishcloth.

You won’t have guessed what happened.

Apparently, she decided to cook vegetables directly on the stovetop. No pot. No pan. Just leaves sizzling away on the glass surface.

"I was trying a new recipe!" she protested when I asked what in the name of the gods she was thinking. "The blog said to cook the vegetables on high heat!"

I took a deep breath like a supervisor when he had just finished listening to a terrible project defense, channeling the patience of a thousand ancestors. "Sweetheart," I said, as calmly as I could manage, "when recipes say that, they generally assume you're using some kind of cookware."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me stupid?"

And there it was.

The minefield I step into every time I try to address these... let's call them quirks. Any suggestion, no matter how gently phrased, is met with defensiveness sharper than my mother's best paring knife.

More often than not, I find myself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling fan as it whirs above us.

I think about the bright-eyed girl I fell in love with, the one whose laugh could light up a room. I wonder where she went, and when she was replaced by this doppelganger who seems to view me as her personal enemy.

Some days, I feel the love I have for her slipping away, like sand through an hourglass.

I catch myself daydreaming about a life where I don't have to constantly be on guard like Arsenal supporters trying to defend why they have never won the UCL.

Where I can come home and relax instead of wondering what new disaster awaits me.

But then my son will come up to me, arms outstretched, babbling "Daddy!" And I'll see my wife eyes in his face, her smile on his lips.

In those moments, I remember why I fell in love with her in the first place.

She called earlier today, her voice tight with that usual tone that always spells trouble. "We need to talk," she said.

Those four words hang in the air as I write this on my laptop.

I know for sure when I get home that I will sit in the car for a long moment, gathering my courage. Whatever awaits me behind that door, I know it will test the very foundations of our marriage.

MIRACULOUS123:
Funny but true
This fact is about men generally because a lady even without going to school will still have a good life and stand a chance to enjoy life better than a male graduate.
I don't know why nature is not really favourable to us,it's unfair.

Life don dey lead man 3 - 0 from birth.

Life as a Nigerian youth is an endless rollercoaster. There are rare ups and many downs. But you have just spent 7 years on a 5-year course. Maybe you are still gathering money for clearance, or maybe you are ready to go and serve your fatherland. But you took time to look back to when it all started.

100L: You applied for Medicine and miraculously saw yourself in the Physics department. But you accepted and hoped you could change to medicine in 200L. Somehow, your CGPA isn't even enough to flash a GLO number.

So you gave up and believed you could work anywhere as they told you during orientation week. Who needs to save lives when you can calculate the velocity of your dreams crashing down? You brush everything off and believe destiny has something in store for you.

200L: Now you are fully in the system. Although you still dress like a 100L student, at least you now have your lecture theatres. Big win. But the lecture's stress is hanging on your neck as if they put Zuma rock on your head. Good news! You can now start nursing the idea of running the package of that 100L babe in your hostel (hopefully she is not in the medicine department).

But how can you crush on someone that 500L big boys are also after? You are there with your 20K monthly allowance from your parents, which they will send in two installments after you have begged them as if you gave birth to yourself.

It's not their fault, it's the economy. You sit down. You think about your life. You know something has to change. But then you receive a mail from the school telling you to go on an emergency holiday for 2 weeks. What you didn't know is that the holiday was a Trojan horse for a 6-month strike.

300L: You finally resumed 300L after spending 5 years already on campus without any carryover. Time flies when you're having fun... or just trying to survive.

But "Tani mo Fe so story Aye mi fun" rings in your head. Anyway, you have two battles to fight. Your pocket and your CGPA - both equally empty. You bother less about your CGPA because those that finished with first class in your discipline are busy working in the financial sector as POS agents.

So you are determined to get your money up. First thought is yahoo. Because your guys that started yahoo in 200L are now changing girls like their underwear while eating at the biggest restaurant every day. Their sound system is always louder at night for some behind-closed-door sessions. While the nightly lullaby of their generator gives you tinnitus. So you start rubbing minds with them on how to get some "toro kobo" from gift cards. But not long after, you discover it's soap they are bathing. "Your mind cannot touch ground". But life goes on.

400L: Your final year is finally here. The year they told you is the easiest, but it's actually the most expensive. Research projects. FYB. Girlfriend(s). The billings never stop coming for your jugular. So you press some buttons like your yahoo friends have taught and cash out little Nnamdi Azikiwe's paper to sort out one or two. Modern problems require modern solutions, right?

What's more? You can see the finish line in front of you but it's finally dawned on you that there is really nothing after the line. You are about to join the millions of graduates who wake up in the morning to troll on Twitter because what else can they do?

They have done everything society said they should do, but society has now ignored them after getting the certificate. In return, the government wastes away their futures one election at a time. But hey, you still have the NYSC bridge to cross. And you can at least use the 33k allowance to survive for at least......12 hours.

So here you are, seven years older, questionably wiser, with a degree you never asked for and a future as uncertain as NEPA's power supply.

jaephoenix:
Do have evidence of his existence?

I'm not for or against the notion. Read carefully again, this time with a full stomach.

ElRapido:
God doesn't exist. Simple.

Enjoy

Imagine this: It's 2 AM, I’m curled under my duvet scrolling through Twitter like there's no bill to pay. But amidst the sea of memes and funny clips, I saw the ultimate late-night question: "Does God exist?" Great! Sleep? Who needs it? I'm now fully awake, my brain shifting from "mindless scroll" to "deep kassala".

So here we are, you and me, about to explore the debate that has kept philosophers up at night since we first looked at the stars and wondered, "Who's running this show sef? Is it God or our politicians?"

Some people like my mother say God is real, standing firm like Zuma Rock in a rainstorm.

They are pointing at everything from quantum physics to their aunt's recovery from "village people attack," saying, "See? Na God!" They wake up every morning, look at the country, and think, "Wow, even in this economy, God dey!"

But here's the thing…

Believing in God isn't just about explaining the unexplainable, you know.

It's more about finding purpose in a world that often seems as chaotic as the Dangote VS Tinubu fight.

It's that warm, fuzzy feeling of thinking, "Ehen, maybe I'm not just here by accident after all!" It's like having Pastor Adeboye as your personal life coach, always rooting for you, even when you're just trying to decide between cooking and buying item 7 for dinner.

On the other side, we have the doubters. You will see them in abundant on Twitter.

They're scratching their heads, looking at the state of the nation, and thinking, "If God's real, He needs to call an emergency meeting with Nigeria's guardian angels."

They see floods in Lagos, kidnappings in the news, and another season of Big Brother Naija and wonder, "Is this really part of a divine plan?

Well, In a minute, you will see why (maybe) all those troubles are happening.

For these skeptics, the idea of relying on faith feels like trying to pay for boutique clothes with Monopoly money.

They are the ones in the back of the church raising their hand and asking, "But why?" to every sermon point.

And let us be honest, sometimes their questions make you wonder if they have a point. After all, if God is all-powerful, couldn't He just have destroyed the devil?

Then there are the fence-sitters, they are thinking, "Maybe God exists, maybe not. I'm just trying to be a good person and hope for the best."

It's like they're hedging their bets in the spiritual lottery, hoping they have bought tickets for Heaven.

These folks are the spiritual equivalent of that friend who refuses to pick a restaurant but vetoes all your suggestions. They are not sure about the big questions, but they are pretty certain that being kind is a good idea, just in case there's a CCTV recording all our actions.

But wait, there's more.

I had a classmate back then in secondary school, who thinks of himself as a science nerd and believe we are all just living in some advanced alien science experiment.

Imagine that! That aliens are probably watching us like a Nollywood drama, eating their space popcorn and saying, "Chai! These Naija people are more entertaining than any Netflix series!"

If this theory is true, then maybe our whole existence is just some extraterrestrial kid's science fair project. In which case, I hope we are at least getting a good grade. Though, looking at the state of my bank account sometimes, we might just have A is for God, B is for me type of project supervisor.

And then there are those who say, "If God is real, why doesn't He solve all our problems?" The way I see it is that maybe God is up there thinking, "I gave you a brain, now use it!"

It's like expecting your membership at a fancy gym to automatically give abs. At some point, you have to do some sit-ups yourself.

This perspective makes me wonder…

What if life is less about having our problems solved for us, and more about growing through the process of solving them? Maybe God, if He exists, is less of a cosmic ATM and more of a cosmic gym trainer, watching us struggle with our spiritual burpees and saying, "No pain, no gain!"

Here's something I actually find interesting.

What if this whole God debate is less about some bearded guy in the sky and more about us? You and I.

Think about it.

Let me ask you...

How does your view of God shape your life? Let's say if you believe in God, does it give you a sense of purpose, like you are starring in your own epic movie? Or does it sometimes feel like pressure, like you're constantly being watched by a divine Instagram Live?

If you don't believe in God, does it make you feel more in control of your destiny? Or does it ever leave you feeling like a lone okada rider in the vast, indifferent ocean of Lagos traffic?

What’s more?

How much of what you believe is actually because of you, and how much is because of where and how you grew up?

If you were born in America instead of Nigeria, or in the time of our great-grandparents, would your views on God be completely different? It's like we're all playing a global game of spiritual musical chairs, and where we end up often depends on where we started.

In the end, whether you believe or not, just try to be a good person.

Because if you reach the heaven gates and God asks, "Why should I let you in?" you can't just say, "Er... because I shared all your Facebook broadcasts with my five friends?"

So, you can choose to pick any side of the argument, but remember: if God is watching us, let's give Him a good show. And if He's not... well, at least we entertained ourselves. After all, life is too short (or too long) to not find humor in the big questions.

Who knows? Maybe God has a great sense of humor like me. Maybe that's why He created Nigerian politicians. Or maybe that's why I have the ability to ponder His existence at 2 AM instead of getting a good night's sleep like sensible human beings.

You know what? Keep questioning, keep laughing (keep it moderate before you end up in Aro), and keep being kind. Because whether we are a divine creation, an accident, or an alien science experiment, we are all in this together. And that, I believe, is worth staying awake for.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go contemplate the meaning of life... or maybe just watch some Purple Speedy videos. It's a tough choice at 3 AM.

Felicox:
So what happened with the clothes you wanted to iron? were they ironed?

obiekunie01:
Actually, it was your FRIDAY that was stolen. you had a row-reverse experience.

don't border googling 'row-reverse' google can only give you programming row-reverse.

funny enough, what happened to you is actually a kind of programing similar to that of computer programing.

Although this is fiction, but can you explain more about row reverse stuff. Can't find anything reasonable online.

I remember that Friday night like it was yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday?

Hmm, therein lies the mystery. You see, I went to my old, rickety bed like a good, God-fearing Nigerian on that fateful Friday, dreaming of all the productive Saturday activities that lay ahead.

Laundry, presing my laptop in search of money, trolling on twitter, or maybe even squeezing in a little palm wine with the boys. I was actually looking forward to a nice, uneventful weekend, a rare moment of calm in the chaos of my life. Little did I know my Saturday was about to pull a Houdini and disappear into the abyss.

I woke up the next morning feeling...off. Something just wasn't sitting right in my spirit. It took me a minute to realize why - when I looked at the clock, it was already 10 AM.

Guess when?

On Sunday.

Ehn ehn, where the heck did my Saturday go?! I searched my phone, my room, my brain, trying to piece together what could have possibly happened.

But there was not a single trace of my existence from the previous day.

No WhatsApp messages (Not like I wasn't expecting one from my mom or girlfriend, But on a matchday, silence from the football groups? That’s as rare as someone knowing the new anthem). No Naija Twitter rants either, and not even the usual Opay ₦200 bonus for Sportybet.

It was as if that Saturday had simply been snatched from the space-time continuum, leaving me to wonder - is this some Rick and Morty elaborate prank?

At that moment, I felt a deep sense of unease all over me. Not only was I confused and disoriented, but I also felt...strangely violated.

How could an entire day just vanish like that, without a single shred of evidence? It was as if someone had broken into my life and stolen a precious piece of my time, my memories, my very identity.

For the next week, I was in a full-blown spiritual crisis, racking my brain like the FBI trying to solve a murder mystery. And yeah, my Saturday was murdered. But by who? Or by what?

Did I sleepwalk my way into an alternate dimension, where they don't even know what a weekend is?

Was I abducted by aliens for some bizarre intergalactic experiment, forced to participate in their strange mating rituals?

Or maybe I just slept for 24 hours straight, which would be an impressive feat, maybe a Guinness record. I will check for that much later.

Honestly, at this point, I have just accepted that this is just one of my life's great unsolved mysteries.

Hopefully one day the truth will come to light, or maybe the truth is that there is no truth, and that Saturday simply ceased to exist.

In a way, I have almost come to cherish this bizarre experience.

It's a reminder that the world is a strange and wonderful place, full of unexplained phenomena.

And who knows, maybe I did have a secret encounter with extraterrestrials.

If so, at least I can take comfort in the fact that they didn't dissect me or steal my organs. (At least, I can’t see any sign of that.)

They just...borrowed my Saturday. I can live with that. As long as they returned me safely, I suppose I can't complain too much. It makes for a great party trick, at least. And hey, at least I got an extra day of rest out of this Tinubu’s Nigeria.

But deep down, a part of me will always wonder what happened during that missing time.

After all, in a country like Nigeria, where anything is possible, a missing day is just another Tuesday.

AlwaysConfused:
Was it medicine you studied?

Nope

The first time I came to Lautech in 2014, I was as green as unripe plantain.

Fast forward to 2023, and I finally got my hands on that elusive degree. It took so long, I half-expected it to come with gray hair and a walking stick.

How did I spend 9 years chasing a first degree, you ask? Settle in, for this tale is as winding as the River Niger, but I promise to narrate it in the time it takes to enjoy a steaming plate of jollof rice.

Back in secondary school, my friends and I would weave grand fantasies about conquering university in four years flat. Five, at most, if the gods of academia were feeling particularly mischievous.

So there I was in 2014, perched by the window of a rickety bus bound for Ogbomosho, nodding along like a shy groom at his own wedding. In my mind's eye, I mapped out the next six years at LAUTECH: one year for Pre-degree, five for the actual degree. Oh, how naive I was, like a farmer predicting bountiful harvests before the first rains.

After wrapping up Pre-degree by the close of 2015, my calculations seemed as precise as a master tailor's measurements. Then 2016 sauntered in, bringing with it the first tremors of chaos.

Out of the blue, the school dispatched an email, suggesting we take a two-week break. A mid-semester holiday? It was as unexpected as finding ice cream in the Sahara, but not unwelcome given the academic pressure. Yet, it sprinkled confusion like suya spice, with tests looming just a week away.

Nevertheless, I packed my bags and headed home. Two weeks stretched into four, one month morphed into two, and before I could say "Naija no dey carry last," our "short break" had ballooned into an eight-month strike.

But the real storm was yet to break.

By some miracle, we returned to school, relief washing over us like cool harmattan winds, though not all of us returned as some had left for other schools. We tackled our exams and geared up for the second semester race. We heard "on your mark" and "get set," but the "go" never came. Another strike had hit, lasting as long as it takes to nurture a pregnancy to term.

This waiting game felt like being stuck in a never-moving ATM queue, watching others zoom past. The question on everyone's lips was as constant as the Nigerian hustle: "When will this strike end?"

By the time we resumed in early 2017, we had spent two years orbiting a single level, like planets trapped in an endless loop.

I recalculated my academic trajectory, clinging to hope that I could still break free by 2021. "O ba ni, ko ba je," I sighed, heavy as a yam farmer's basket at harvest time.

But if you thought that was the end of our strike saga, well, you're in for a surprise as spicy as pepper soup!

The school management, wielding their magic wand like juju priests, compressed an entire session into six months. It was as stressful as Lagos traffic at rush hour, but we had lost ground to recover.

During this whirlwind period, I stumbled into an academic pit of my own making, one that would take another year to climb out of. You see, in my department, progressing to 300L required a clean slate. One failed course, and you're held back like a footballer offside.

Unfortunately, I fumbled a PSG course in 200L second semester. Thus began my year in academic purgatory.

As 2020 dawned, bringing hope of escape from this pit, Mr. Covid came knocking louder than a town crier. The government's response? Locking everyone indoors for months.

While COVID was snatching breaths, our lecturers were quietly cooking up another strike, serving it piping hot like fresh akara.

We didn't resume until January 2021. Once again, the school brandished its magic wand, and by year's end, we had conquered 400L first semester.

At this point, calculating my graduation date seemed as futile as counting the grains of sand on Elegushi beach. I surrendered to time's fickle flow.

Remember those friends who left? Some had not only finished their degrees elsewhere but were already climbing the career ladder while I remained stuck in academic quicksand.

Just when we thought it was over, 2022 brought another six-month strike. It was getting ridiculous - I was aging faster in school than Benjamin Button.

We resumed towards the end of 2022, and mercifully, that was my final tango with ASUU strikes. I sailed through 500L uninterrupted, like a boat on calm waters.

2023 has been relatively strike-free. For how long? I can't say. But what I do know is that I've run my race, closing this chapter of my life with the resilience of a true Nigerian.

P.S. If you know anyone considering Pre-degree, advise them to bin that idea faster than you'd toss out spoiled egusi. It was a year wasted, like watching paint dry. There are better options like IJMB or JUPEB, though they cost more than designer aso-ebi.


Lalasticlala
Mynd44
Fynesboi

Kenochi:
There are two school of thoughts in Nigeria,the first school believes that Nigeria is so bad that nothing good can come from it
Then there is the second school of thought that believes in Hope,they are optimistic about the future
That optimism is based solely on nothing but Hope...
The truth is,two truths can exist together and you can choose what school to belong to
As for me,I chose to believe that I still have something to contribute to Nigeria
I have seen the Bad,the good and the Ugly and I tell you, Nigeria is a place of opportunities
Sometimes,it seems the opportunity is drying up but I still believe it is best to chose anyone that works for you
Kindly check my signature to see products from our stable.....

I used to be optimistic about Nigeria's situation. But now I have chosen to be a realist.

I'm sitting on over 25 years of experience living in Nigeria. So I'm qualified to give an opinion on the country's state by any job standard - except if you're looking to hire for president of Nigeria where no experience is needed, just a talent for turning promises into disappointment faster than garri absorbs water.

But you know what's weird?



Seeing folks with more experience gives opinions that make you scream silently and want to punch your screen to oblivion. It's like watching a Nollywood movie where the villain is your favorite actor - painful and confusing.

What's it this time you ask?

Well. It's Twitter people. They are here again. Dishing out takes on Japa like a hot eba at a Yoruba party. But their advice is as useful as a flashlight in broad daylight.

'If you have 40M Naira, there is no point to Japa. Invest the money here in Nigeria,' One tweeted with his fingers that were hopefully not connected to his brain. This take is colder than fura on a harmattan morning.

So I have reached two conclusions:

Either these 'invest your money in this country people' are slow, with their neurons not quick to make correct decisions, or the 'oga at the top' has sent something to swell their account, like garri ijebu. So what we are seeing is PR on steroids, as dramatic as a Patience Ozokwor monologue.

The big reason these takes are dumb is INFLATION

The financial handicap has been rising like a rocket launched by NASA with no hope of coming down. Inflation is a cheetah. Your saved money is a dead coyote. Everyone's feeling the pinch, from the Suya spots of Kaduna to the Boli stands of Port Harcourt.

Being a suicide bomber for ISIS is a better choice than doing business in this economy with your money. At least the bomber knows what he's signed up for - our economy is like a masquerade festival where the dancers keep changing the steps.

Imagine you have the 40M Naira sitting comfortably in your account. Looking at previous trends, you'll realize it won't even take years before the value of your 40M is washed away like a gully erosion down a mountain. Your savings account will soon look like pap without sugar - bland and disappointing.

Imagine being able to buy 20 cars at 2M Naira each this month. And in 4 months. Same car. Same model. Same dealer. And the cost is 5M each.

Does the business math add up? Except you want to think like those Twitter people, then the answer is NO.

And like one black man with golden yellow teeth once said, "You can't out-hustle a bad economy"

Las las, we'll all be doing 'small small' to make ends meet. But let's keep it 100: how many of us are sitting on that kind of cash? For most of us, 40M naira is as elusive as a politician's campaign promises after election day.

Your best bet? If you've got that 40M burning a hole in your pocket, don't let it melt away in Nigeria's economic furnace. JAPA isn't just a trend, it's a survival strategy. Don't let the Twitter economists fool you - your future self will thank you for choosing financial sanity over patriotic poverty. After all, in this economy, we're all turning to lizards - the ones that jumped from a high iroko tree. Trust is scarce, but wisdom shouldn't be.

https://cdn.pmnewsnigeria.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Aviator-Game9.jpg

Yesterday was a dull Sunday afternoon stretched out before me like an endless desert. I found myself trapped in the monotonous cycle of scrolling through the digital streets of Twitter, each tweet blurring into the next with no respite from boredom.
But then, like a bolt of lightning striking a barren landscape, an idea ignited in my mind.

A new online adventure

I have heard about it a thousand times. But have never tried it because it goes against my beliefs.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I mused, the words slipping from my lips like a reckless dare into the void.

Little did I know, the worst was waiting for me on Aviator's digital runway.
The gambling game that promises to multiply your money to infinity.

All I had to do was stake my money, watch as a virtual plane danced across my screen, and wait for the multiplier to soar to dizzying heights. But beneath its beguiling exterior lurked a catch.

But first…

Imagine the feeling if you could 50X the money you have in your account right now.

Heck. You could even multiply it by any number.

With each passing moment, the multiplier taunted you, teasing you with the prospect of unimaginable riches.
BOOM. You have successfully multiplied your money.

Or have you? Remember, there is a catch.

You could and most likely lose all your money.

I mean to $0.00.

And the worst part?

You tried all your effort to make some or all of your money back.

The result?

More debts. More troubles. More anxiety. All that could lead you to crippling depression.

That's not all.

Let's assume you got lucky. You double. triple or even centuple your money.

Hurray. You feel excited, like someone on ecstasy. But there is a desire even to get more, forgetting you got lucky.
Or you know, but you want to try your luck again.

This time you run out of luck like a car running out of gas on the highway.

All your money and the winnings are gone in a flash like heavy winds blowing paper away.

With your jaws apart and eyes wide open, you realize the game wasn't designed for you to win.

Different thoughts cross your mind.

And you wonder if anyone wins money from the game.

Yes. They are the exception. You are more likely to see a shooting star than to be one of them. And they are needed to give hope to millions of other victims.

What you may never know is that...

Most of these winners eventually lose some or all of their winnings back into the game.

That's why you always have to remember...The house always wins. The odds are mountainously stark against you. Get out before you get in.

Themandalorian:
Easy with the misinformation bros.
The iphone x can't multi task better than any android phone of 2021 even the iphone 11 can't.
Only the iphone 12 can be better because of the new chipset.

IPhone 11 will still beat most Android phones of 2020. Infact, it will go head to head with flagship Android phones in some department like performance and Camera.

Make we fry coconut?

Do you look like a bus conductor?

If you're selling, kindly let me know the price. Thanks

anochuko01:
its like asking who taught you how to eat, talk, walk etc... no matter how long that part of you go manifest.

Wetin u dey say? Abeg comot for here.

Wahala for who dey toast in 2020.

Drop money on the table and see magic. It has always work and it'll keep working till eternity. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Toast.

Omokowa:
Google adsense for sell you can contact me on 08069581058 or we chat on this platform

Verified?

Still needed. Reply with your price

Still needed

They will soon turn this thread to Lion vs Tiger.

Some morons will believe that he should be employed by FUTA or Premium times.

Still needed

Still needed.

Mannyemmy:
Have one. How much will you pay? It also has a Android app with approved admob....

Send me a WhatsApp message:

If you have a domain with approved Nigeria AdSense. I'm interested in buying it. Kindly drop a message here.