If ur boyfriend or girlfriend is seriously sick and the only solution is sex or else he or she will die in the next 10minz and which is confirmed by the doctor and you are not available but your best friend is there, would you allow your best friend to have sex with your boyfriend or girlfriend? Plz pass it on and get lotz of funny answers bt answer me 1st,i am waiting, dnt spoil d fun..... Good night and sleep well like a baby!

8.Kuwait vs Bahrain Kuwait to win at 2.65 9.Iran vs Slovakia Iran to win @ 1.60 10.Leiston vs Dulwich Hamlet Dulwich Hamle to win 2.0 in isthmian premier league I wish you all good luck

1.Tala El Geish vs Zamalek Zamalek To win 1.85 In Egypt Premier League

2.Lincoln vs Alfreton Lincoln To Win 2.30 In England Confrence Premier

3.Crays vs Gray Gray To Win 1.50 In Isthmian Premier league

4.Sunderland vs Manchester United Manchester United to Win at 1.70 Capital One Cup

5.Glevanon vs Cliftonville Cliftonville to win 1.60

6.Valencia vs Athletico Madrid Athletico Madrid To Win at 2.0

7.Slovenia Vs Moldova Slovenia to win

More three Matches to come

Please Don't Accumulate them,Place them Singly with a fixed Amount

I Will be posting them in a moment

thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the
Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he
might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t
reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not
made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment.
As we walk, I glance over at Gale’s face, still smoldering underneath
his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to me,
although I never say so. It’s not that I don’t agree with him. I
do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of
the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things
fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby
game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than
in the district.
Gale and I divide our spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of
loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin,
and a bit of money for each.
“See you in the square,” I say.
“Wear something pretty,” he says flatly.
At home, I find my mother and sister are ready to go. My
mother wears a fine dress from her apothecary days. Prim is
in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It’s a bit
big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins. Even so,
she’s having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.
A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and
sweat from the woods and even wash my hair. To my surprise,
my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me.
A soft blue thing with matching shoes.
15
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m trying to get past rejecting offers
of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow
her to do anything for me. And this is something special. Her
clothes from her past are very precious to her.
“Of course. Let’s put your hair up, too,” she says. I let her
towel-dry it and braid it up on my head. I can hardly recognize
myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall.
“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.
“And nothing like myself,” I say. I hug her, because I know
these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping.
She’s about as safe as you can get, since she’s only entered
once. I wouldn’t let her take out any tesserae. But she’s worried
about me. That the unthinkable might happen.
I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against
the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells
up in my chest and threatens to register on my (ace. I notice
her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and
force myself to stay calm. “Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say,
smoothing the blouse back in place.
Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.”
“Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only
Prim can draw out of me. “Come on, let’s eat,” I say and plant a
quick kiss on the top of her head.
The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew, but that
will be for supper. We decide to save the strawberries and bakery
bread for this evening’s meal, to make it special we say.
Instead we drink milk from Prim’s goat, Lady, and eat the
16
rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has
much appetite anyway.
At one o’clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory
unless you are on death’s door. This evening, officials
will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not,
you’ll be imprisoned.
It’s too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square
— one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant.
The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days,
especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it.
But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings,
there’s an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched
like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.
People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity
for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as
well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into
roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the
young ones, like Prim, toward the back. Family members line
up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another’s
hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at
stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking
bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are
given on their ages, whether they’re Seam or merchant, if they
will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers
but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be
informers, and who hasn’t broken the law? I could be shot on
a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge
protect me. Not everyone can claim the same.

A couple of years ago,I learn that universities were banned from admitting students into Medicine and Surgery,and my younger brother wanna study medicine and surgery,so I wanna know he is free to apply?if the ban has been lifted.Thanks for your candid answers

OWERRI — Tragedy struck in Umuogwuta, Ndegwu, Owerri West local council area of Imo State, as a lady who was giving her testimony during the New Year service suddenly collapsed and died.

A villager, who spoke to Vanguard on ground of anonymity, said: “The Lagos-based lady, Ifeoma Anozie, collapsed and died while giving her testimony inside Saint John’s Anglican Church, Ndegwu.”

Vanguard also gathered that Ifeoma returned to her country home not to only give testimony about her achievements in the passing year, but also felicitate with her kith and kin.

“The lady had hardly commenced her testimony when she suddenly slumped and died in front of the officiating cleric and left the congregation completely perplexed,” the villager said.

Speaking also on the issue, a woman who simply identified herself as Felicia, lamented that what ordinarily should have been a double celebration for the Anozie family suddenly turned sour.

“The church service was designed to be a double celebration for the Anozie family. It, however, turned out to be a tragedy for the family, the church and Ndegwu community,” Felicia lamented.

Other villagers that also spoke to Vanguard, said ifeoma was a very promising young lady but none could guess she would die untimely.

Although Vanguard could not ascertain the cause of death at press time, as no member of the immediate family could be reached for comments.

However, the remains of the lady had been deposited in an undisclosed hospital morgue.

Source http://www.vanguardngr.com/2014/01/woman-collapses-dies-testifying-church/

found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to
string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.
On the way home, we swing by the Hob, the black market
that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal.
When they came up with a more efficient system that transported
the coal directly from the mines to the trains, the Hob
gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by
this time on reaping day, but the black market’s still fairly
busy. We easily trade six of the fish for good bread, the other
two for salt. Greasy Sae, the bony old woman who sells bowls
of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off our
hands in exchange for a couple of chunks of paraffin. We
might do a tad better elsewhere, but we make an effort to
keep on good terms with Greasy Sae. She’s the only one who
can consistently be counted on to buy wild dog. We don’t hunt
them on purpose, but if you’re attacked and you take out a dog
or two, well, meat is meat. “Once it’s in the soup, I’ll call it
beef,” Greasy Sae says with a wink. No one in the Seam would
turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Peacekeepers
who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.
When we finish our business at the market, we go to the
back door of the mayor’s house to sell half the strawberries,
knowing he has a particular fondness for them and can afford
our price. The mayor’s daughter, Madge, opens the door. She’s
in my year at school. Being the mayor’s daughter, you’d expect
her to be a snob, but she’s all right. She just keeps to herself.
Like me. Since neither of us really has a group of friends, we
seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting
next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities.
We rarely talk, which suits us both just fine.
Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive
white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a
pink ribbon. Reaping clothes.
“Pretty dress,” says Gale.
Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine
compliment or if he’s just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but
she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips
together and then smiles. “Well, if I end up going to the Capitol,
I want to look nice, don’t I?”
Now it’s Gale’s turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is
she messing with him? I’m guessing the second.
“You won’t be going to the Capitol,” says Gale coolly. His
eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real
gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for
months. “What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I
was just twelve years old.”
“That’s not her fault,” I say.
“No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is,” says Gale. Madge’s
face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries
in my hand. “Good luck, Katniss.” “You, too,” I say, and the
door closes.
We walk toward the Seam in silence. I don’t like that Gale
took a dig at Madge, but he’s right, of course. The reaping system
is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become
eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That
year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on
and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of
eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times.
That’s true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire
country of Panem.
But here’s the catch. Say you are poor and starving as we
were. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange
for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year’s supply of
grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your
family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, I had my
name entered four times. Once, because I had to, and three
times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself, Prim, and my
mother. In fact, every year I have needed to do this. And the
entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of sixteen, my name
will be in the reaping twenty times. Gale, who is eighteen and
has been either helping or single-handedly feeding a family of
five for seven years, will have his name in forty-two times.
You can see why someone like Madge, who has never been
at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her
name being drawn is very slim compared to those of us who
live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even though
the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly
not Madge’s family, it’s hard not to resent those who don’t
have to sign up for tesserae.
Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other
days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how
the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district.
A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of
the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and

In theory, it’s supposed to be electrified twentyfour
hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the
woods — packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears — that used
to threaten our streets. But since we’re lucky to get two or
three hours of electricity in the evenings, it’s usually safe to
touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for
the hum that means the fence is live. Right now, it’s silent as a
stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out on my belly
and slide under a two-foot stretch that’s been loose for
years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this
one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here.
As soon as I’m in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of
arrows from a hollow log. Electrified or not, the fence has
been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District 12.
Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added concerns
like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths
to follow. But there’s also food if you know how to find it. My
father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to
bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I
was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for
him to run.
Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching
carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it
if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture
out with just a knife. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father
along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods,
carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My father could have
made good money selling them, but if the officials found out
he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion.
Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who
hunt because they’re as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is.
In fact, they’re among our best customers. But the idea that
someone might be arming the Seam would never have been
allowed.
In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest
apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close
enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises.
“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I
mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here,
even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might
overhear you.
When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the
things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people
who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the
Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to
more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my
features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever
read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only
polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than
trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make
most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I
avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages,
or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my
words and then where would we be?
In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be
myself. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my
pace quickening as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge
overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from
unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a
smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.
“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when
I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d
said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me
around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official
nickname for me. I finally had to kill the lynx because he
scared off game. I almost regretted it because he wasn’t bad
company. But I got a decent price for his pelt.
“Look what I shot,” Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow
stuck in it, and I laugh. It’s real bakery bread, not the flat,
dense loaves we make from our grain rations. I take it in my
hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust
to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that makes my mouth flood
with saliva. Fine bread like this is for special occasions.
“Mm, still warm,” I say. He must have been at the bakery at
the crack of dawn to trade for it. “What did it cost you?”
“Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental
this morning,” says Gale. “Even wished me luck.”
“Well, we all feel a little closer today, don’t we?” I say, not
even bothering to roll my eyes. “Prim left us a cheese.” I pull it
out.
His expression brightens at the treat. “Thank you, Prim.
We’ll have a real feast.” Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent
as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who
arrives once a year to read out the names at the leaping. “I almost
forgot! Happy Hunger Games!” He plucks a few blackberries
from the bushes around us. “And may the odds —” He
tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

To be Continued,Relax small and come back

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers
stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the
rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad
dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did.
This is the day of the reaping.
I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the
bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her
side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together.
In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not
so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely
as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was
very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest
cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of
rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his
muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. I le hates me.
Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think
he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when
Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with
worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was
another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I
had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of
the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional
rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the
entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.
Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to
love.
I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots.
Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a
shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage
bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from
hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese
wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. I put
the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside.
Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually
crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at
this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen
knuckles, many who have long since stopped trying to scrub
the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken
faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters
on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn’t until
two. May as well sleep in. If you can.
Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to
pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow.
Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all
of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbedwire
loops.

To Be Continued

You are Kinda right

A letter dated September 25, 2013 written by Lamido Sanusi, Governor of Central Bank, to President, Good Luck Jonathan, was last week, leaked to the media from undisclosed sources.

In an apparent streak of patriotic fervour, Sanusi noted in his letter that “I am constrained to formally write your Excellency, documenting serious concerns of the CBN on the continuous failure of the NNPC to repatriate significant proportion of the proceeds of the crude oil shipment it made ($49.8bn), in gross violation of the law”.

Nonetheless, Sanusi’s antecedent in exposing the horrid level of fraudulent practices in the banking sector, as well as his expose’ on the bloated expenditure of legislators, may have induced public belief in Lamido’s allegations of fraud against NNPC.

The NNPC General Manager Public Affairs, Dr. Umar Farouk Ibrahim, however, quickly explained that the 24% of total crude oil receipts ($15.5bn), which the CBN acknowledged that NNPC remitted to the treasury actually represents the proceeds from the equity lifting, which NNPC directly paid as its legitimate contribution to the federation account.

Thus, the alleged unremitted balance of 76%, according to Ibrahim, was received by those other agencies that are statutorily empowered to collect them for onward remittance to the treasury.

Indeed, Dr. Okonjo-Iweala, the Finance Minister, also last week corroborated this position to the Senate Committee on SureP, when she confirmed that the $48.8bn alleged missing was ‘intact’, only to reverse her position a day later, when she reported that about $10.8bn was yet to be accounted for!

Earlier, Andrew Yakubu, NNPC Group Managing Director, cautioned government ministries and development agencies to “seek better understanding of issues, which are not clear to them, rather than go public with misleading information that is capable of creating public disaffection”.

Consequently, with such contradictory positions on a matter as basic as appropriate accounting process for public funds, one must wonder what other more serious issues these critical government agencies discuss at their regular inter-ministerial meetings.

Thus, in addition to ongoing legislative investigation, it should be revealing to also publish the result of President Jonathan’s alleged presidential directive, upon receipt of Sanusi’s letter, that the huge revenue differences between NNPC and CBN records should be instantly resolved.

Nonetheless, a commonsense approach may serve our purpose in determining a clearer reality. Indeed, CBN’s expectation that total sales value, i.e. average price of crude oil multiplied by the actual volume of oil sold should amount to $65bn is really hardly contestable! It is also true that the 1999 constitution requires monies earned by all government agencies to be paid into the federation account.

So, CBN’s allegation may be technically right, if NNPC paid only $15.5bn instead of $65bn into the treasury; however, the big question is whether it is realistic for a trading corporation to directly pay its gross sales revenue as dividends to its shareholders? Surely, it is only after cost of all operations and several other contractual obligations, including taxes, have been met that any corporation can pay dividends to shareholders!

Consequently, it would be inapplicable therefore, for NNPC to repatriate the gross sales revenue for all oil sales directly into the federation account. Surely, this could not be the intention of Section 162 of the 1999 Constitution on which the CBN founded its allegation of fraud against NNPC. Besides, other agencies apart from NNPC are also partially accountable for crude revenue.

The above discussion is not a clean bill for NNPC’s operations, as it will clearly be a miracle, under current circumstances, to find any MDA with unblemished accounting records and uncompromised operational processes nationwide. Besides, NNPC is yet to satisfactorily account for its 400,000 barrels daily crude allocation for local refining!

Nonetheless, in his letter, Sanusi also recommended “investigation of those obvious avenues for money laundering, such as companies that sell private jets in Nigeria, and those bureaux de change, which have purchased hundreds of billions of dollars from the interbank market and are unable to account for these monies”.

Consequently, Lamido assured President Jonathan of CBN’s “readiness to render full assistance and provide as much data as possible to support the prosecution of such errant companies”.

We may wonder whether this is the same Sanusi, who clearly did not require presidential consent, before his swashbuckling controversial reforms of the banking sector or is this not the same firebrand, who took on the otherwise intimidating Legislature on their bloated expenditures without batting an yelid!

Why couldn’t the same irrepressible CBN Governor simply pass on its substantial information dossier on suspects of money laundering transactions directly for investigation instead of unexpectedly circuitously inviting Mr. President to authorize prosecution!!

Thus, observers may see Sanusi’s fundamentally, clearly unfounded exposé as subterfuge to distract public attention from CBN’s evident failure to achieve its core mandate of price stability, which should normally drive economic growth; undoubtedly, no nation has successfully grown its economy and also stimulated employment opportunities with cost of funds to the real sector exceeding 20%, neither can there be sustained social welfare, when pensioners become paupers every decade or so, because of double digit inflation rates in recent years!

There is also nothing to be said in favour of CBN’s ‘economically poisonous’ monetary strategy, which constantly increases the cash base of banks one day with huge public sector naira allocations, only to return to mop up (i.e. borrow back) the resultant suffocating cash surfeit from the same banks with double digit interest rates, which are inappropriately excessive for such risk free sovereign debts!

Indeed, we should not be reminded of CBN’s self-styled own reserves of about $40bn, which, despite government’s forced borrowings at ‘Shylock’ interest rates to fund ghost deficits, yet remain inexplicably idle but unavailable for public appropriation!

Or why should anyone gloat on which income sources fund CBN’s billions of naira unilateral serial interventions nationwide!
The preceding ‘minor’ infractions of the apex bank may not obviously be as dramatic as media reports of Sanusi’s exposure of an ‘Ogbologbo’ thief who allegedly ripped off 76% of our commonwealth!
SAVE THE NAIRA, SAVE NIGERIANS!!

Nobel Laureate, Professor Wole Soyinka yesterday faulted the visit of All Progressives Congress, APC, leaders to former President Olusegun Obasanjo last Saturday warning that Nigeria was heading for a shipwreck with such political romance.

In his statement, titled: “Shipwreck Ahead”, Professor Soyinka cautioned that Nigeria would need rescue operations if the APC intends to court Obasanjo to serve as a navigator for the ship of the state.

According to Soyinka’s short statement, “an APC-led group, we understand, has been paying courtesy visits to former Heads of States. Would it be correct to state that their purpose is captured in the following Mission Statement? ‘Tinubu added that the APC had resolved to rescue Nigeria, appealing to Obasanjo to lead the mission. We’re resolved and determined to rescue Nigeria. We want you as navigator,’ he said.”

Soyinka, then added: “If this attribution is correct, may I urge you, as an urgent public service, to advise families to begin the stockpiling of life-belts for the guaranteed crash. Don’t forget to alert the coastguards—ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States), AU (African Union), UNO (United Nations Organization) etc, to be on the alert for possible salvage operations. “If General Sani Abacha were alive today, would he also have been on the ship’s complement? As Captain perhaps?”Soyinka asked.

Governor Chibuike Ameachi of Rivers State has charged Nigerian youths to chase corrupt leaders out of office, as a way of preventing them from bringing down the country.

The governor spoke at the 8th edition of the Futures Award Africa, organsied by the Futures Project, in Port Harcourt.
The event saw the emergence of 16 enterprising young Africans as winners in different categories.
Amaechi said: “The reason why political office holders continue to embezzle resources meant for the development of the people is because when they embezzle resources nothing is done to them.

“The only way you can stop corrupt officers from bringing down Nigeria is to stone them and chase them out of office.
“The office of political officer holders in Nigeria is so comfortable that leaders don’t want to leave office without accumulating as much wealth as they can to maintain their newly acquired expensive lifestyle after office.

“But unfortunately the funds embezzled and resources mismanaged are for the citizens of Nigeria and not for a selected few political office holders.

“Chasing corrupt leaders away from office means that we are close to a revolution. Ironically the attitude of the youth to corrupt leaders says embezzle all that you can, so that when it gets to our turn we will embezzle ours.”

Yenagoa— Chief of Naval Staff, Vice Admiral Dele Ezeoba, has advanced reasons for the installation of surveillance cameras along the nation’s territorial waters, saying the facility would aid security agencies to monitor vessels involved in crude oil theft and other vices.

Admiral Ezeoba, who commissioned the Regional Maritime Awareness Capability Centre, RMAC, in Yenagoa and Brass last Friday, said the hi-tech equipment would provide the Navy with the capacity to leverage on all the tactical pictures of vessels and contacts within and around its area of responsibility.

His words: ‘’What we have done is that we have added impetus to our capacity to deliver on Mr. President’s mandate. The domain awareness centre satisfies the requirement of one of the legs of our trinity of action, which is surveillance capability.”

He noted that with the RMAC centre, it would be easier for the Navy to identify and classify vessels according to the International Maritime Organization, IMO’s standard.

’’We can identify vessels in accordance with IMO classification that says every vessel that is registered and is a flagged vessel must have Automatic Identification System, AIS. That gives you the total character of the vessel and what she is supposed to be doing.

’’Where we find that such vessel does not have such AIS identification, what we do is to begin to question its authenticity,” he added.

According to him, the equipment has been installed at the length and breadth of the nation’s coastline.

He said the challenge before the Navy now was the capacity to respond to the threats posed by ‘strange vessels’ and the ability to sustain the hi-tech equipment that had been installed.

He also identified the capacity of the judiciary to try and prosecute suspects arrested as another layer of challenge in the quest to keep the nation’s territorial waters safe.

…as pharmacists issue own ultimatum

AS the five-day warning strike called by the Nigerian Medical Association, NMA, ends today, Nigerians have been alerted to brace up for an indefinite doctors’ strike as from January 6, 2014, even as pharmacists, under the aegis of the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria, PSN, are threatening to team up with the Joint Health Sector Unions, JOHESU, to embark on strike on December 28, 2013.

Issuing the warning in a statement at the end of the National Executive Committee, NEC, meeting in Abuja, NMA President, Dr. Osahon Enabulele, and Secretary General, Dr. Akpufuoma L. Pemu, urged Nigerians to appeal to government to do the needful to avert the full blown doctors’ strike already scheduled to begin in the new year.
In the statement, it was confirmed that the NEC has resolved to continue with the warning strike action as previously planned, until more concrete efforts are made to meet the minimum demands of the NMA.

”The NEC reaffirmed the earlier decision of the Association to limit the duration of the warning strike action in deference to the yuletide season and as a mark of the Association’s appreciation of the appeals of well-meaning Nigerians, but to commence a total strike action (if the issues are not satisfactorily resolved) on January 6, 2014,’ the duo remarked.



In a related development, President of the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria, Pharm Olumide Akintayo, described the NMA warning strike as uncalled for.

In a statement entitled: “Doctors’ Strike: Matters Arising”, Akintayo said it is pertinent to observe that strike actions by Nigerian doctors are purely motivated by pecuniary gains.

” What goes on presently during strike action of doctors is that they are paid for services not rendered during strike. Government needs to halt this by employing doctors who are desirous to work on locum basis as we have seen practiced by some State Government with great efficacy.”

He said pharmacists, under the aegis of the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria, PSN, have never really supported strike actions as a means for achieving professional privileges.

“If for any reason Government compromises the spirit of its agreement with Joint Health Sector Unions, JOHESU, in August 2013, the Federal Government will leave the PSN with no other choice than to mobilize pharmacists in both the public and private sector to join forces with JOHESU which has given a December 28, 2013 deadline to government to enforce the right of its members via the agreement it reached with representatives of the Federal Government at its meetings of August 26th to 27th, 2013 in Abuja,” Akintayo warned.

[url=http://]SOURCE[/url]

Nooo,it didn't mean you should quit school,but incase there are reasons,circumstances or challenges that hindered or halted your education,You shouldn't give up,it's not the end of life.

These notable people didn't give up because alot of people that will become drop out might become touts buh instead they pursued thier dreams

1.Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846. John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.
2.Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860. John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960.
3.Both were shot in the back of the head in the presence of their wives.
4.Both wives lost their children while living in the White House.
5.Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.
6.Lincoln's secretary was named Kennedy.
7.Both were succeeded by Southerners named Johnson.
8.Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808. Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.
9.Lincoln was shot in the Ford Theatre. Kennedy was shot in a Lincoln, made by Ford.
10.Lincoln was shot in a theater and his assassin ran and hid in a warehouse. Kennedy was shot from a warehouse and his assassin ran And hid in a theater.
11.Booth and Oswald were assassinated before their trials.

[url=http://]SOURCE[/url]

The Kingdom of Denmark in Scandinavia is the most expensive country to live in. While there may be cities around the world that has higher prices, notably Tokyo, Geneva and Nagoya, on a per country basis, Denmark is on top of the list.

The cost of living in the country is notably higher than in other advanced countries. A high tax rate used to support its extensive social benefit system is probably the cause, with income taxes ranging from 45% to even as high as 56%, depending on your field and salary. There is also a flat rate for value added tax amounting to 25%, though rental cost, medicines and newspapers are exempted from this requirement.

The country also has strong trade unions to represent its workers. As a result, the minimum wage rate has been favorable to employees, with the current negotiated amount standing at $ 20 per hour.

Location and Background



Denmark is an advanced country situated in the northern portion of the European continent. It has a population of more than 5.5 million, and it run by a unitary parliamentary constitutional monarchy. The country lies above Germany on the map, and is near Sweden, Norway, Finland and Iceland.



The Danish krone is the accepted currency, though the United States greenback can be readily exchanged in banks across the country. The country has very limited natural resources, and as a result, they have relied on human resources, with the service sector comprising a huge portion of Denmark’s economic and employment numbers.

Denmark’s economy also relies on the importation of raw materials to support its industrialized status. The country also engages heavily in foreign trade. Danish economic bureaucrats have been managing the economy quite well, with inflation kept at only 2.1%.

Except for education, everything in Denmark is costly especially when compared to other countries. Schools cost more than $ 11,000 for the primary level at private international schools, and more than $ 13,000 for secondary.

Cost of Living



Accommodation

Central location, high end and unfurnished apartment with 3 bedrooms, excluding utilities – $ 3,190
Suburban areas, excluding utilities – $ 1,873

Appliances

46-inch LED High Definition TV – $ 1,339
Blu-ray DVD Player – $ 135

Cigarettes

Pack of cigarettes (20 pieces) – $ 6.34

Clothes

Jeans for men – $ 129
Office leather shoes – $ 144
Running shoes – $ 141
Summer dress – $ 55

Communication

Monthly standard internet subscription – $ 28
Tariff on mobile usage – $ 0.14 per minute

Groceries

Apples, 1 kilo – $ 3.45
Boneless and skinless chicken breast, 1 kilo – $ 12.35
Cheddar cheese, 1 kilo – $ 14.59
Eggs, 12 pieces – $ 3.74
Full cream milk, 1 liter – $ 1.21
Head lettuce – $ 1.61
Oranges, 1 kilo – $ 3.65
Potatoes, 1 kilo – $ 1.92
Water, 1 liter – $ 2.03
White loaf bread, 500 grams – $ 3.40

Health

Consultation with a doctor, if person has no insurance – $ 104
Private hospital stay, including diagnostic tests, food, laboratory exams, medications, nursing care and other related costs, if person has no insurance – $ 3,062

Liquor

Bottle of midrange wine – $ 11.50
Local beer, 500 ml – $ 1.97
Imported beer, 330 ml – $ 2.86

Meals and Restaurants

Cappuccino, regular and medium – $ 5.59
Fast food burgers – $ 11.51
Restaurant, for two – $ 94.43
Soda, 330 ml, Coke or Pepsi – $ 3.58

Personal Care and Effects

Dry clean, two pieces – $15.83
Men’s haircut and blow dry – $ 42
Women’s haircut, blow dry and color – $ 211

Recreation and Culture

Fitness or gym club membership per month – $ 54
Movies – $ 13.79
Newspapers – $ 4.87

Transportation

Car, compact, economy or small, 1.4 L – $43,131
Petrol, high octane, 1 L – $ 2.06

Are the Expenses Worth It?

While the costs of living expenses in Denmark are indeed much higher compared to other countries, one has to remember that the salaries generally paid for by employers to its workers are also better than in other places. The high tax rates, which may seem ridiculous at first glance, are also offset by the fact that Denmark offers a very generous welfare benefit package for its residents and citizens. Education and medical assistance are mostly free, as the Danish government pays for them. The key here is to learn to speak the native language because it is one of the main requirements to obtain a permanent residency pass. This, in turn, is what will make a foreigner eligible for the different social benefits.

The typical Danish middle-class family sees both parents working. If a child is born, however, then the country’s welfare benefits mean that one of the parents is allowed to take a year off from work with full support from the government.

Workers in Denmark also enjoy relatively short working hours, with normal business time ranging from 9 am to 4.30 pm only. They also enjoy a standard allowance of leave benefits numbering 25 each year. Danes enjoy a good balance in work and life, and conduct meetings only during office hours.

The Danes also have a democratic style in conducting their business. Ideas and opinions are encouraged and respected, and status is not important. Thus, you will seldom see any barriers even between high-ranking officers and low-level employees of a corporation. Discussions are straightforward, so avoid using sarcasm and irony as these may be misunderstood.

The high tax rates and living expenses are obviously balanced out by the decent salaries and benefits given to the people. No wonder, Danes have always been surveyed as among the happiest people on the planet despite the fact that they live in the most expensive country in the world.

Source [url=http://]HERE[/url]

Just keep reading it,I am arriving somewhere

Then we introduced ourselves: Name. Age. Diagnosis. And how we’re doing today. I’m Hazel, I’d
say when they’d get to me. Sixteen. Thyroid originally but with an impressive and long-settled satellite
colony in my lungs. And I’m doing okay.
Once we got around the circle, Patrick always asked if anyone wanted to share. And then began the
circle jerk of support: everyone talking about fighting and battling and winning and shrinking and
scanning. To be fair to Patrick, he let us talk about dying, too. But most of them weren’t dying. Most
would live into adulthood, as Patrick had.
(Which meant there was quite a lot of competitiveness about it, with everybody wanting to beat not
only cancer itself, but also the other people in the room. Like, I realize that this is irrational, but when they
tell you that you have, say, a 20 percent chance of living five years, the math kicks in and you figure that’s
one in five . . . so you look around and think, as any healthy person would: I gotta outlast four of these
bastards.)
The only redeeming facet of Support Group was this kid named Isaac, a long-faced, skinny guy with

straight blond hair swept over one eye.
And his eyes were the problem. He had some fantastically improbable eye cancer. One eye had been
cut out when he was a kid, and now he wore the kind of thick glasses that made his eyes (both the real one
and the glass one) preternaturally huge, like his whole head was basically just this fake eye and this real
eye staring at you. From what I could gather on the rare occasions when Isaac shared with the group, a
recurrence had placed his remaining eye in mortal peril.
Isaac and I communicated almost exclusively through sighs. Each time someone discussed anticancer
diets or snorting ground-up shark fin or whatever, he’d glance over at me and sigh ever so slightly. I’d
shake my head microscopically and exhale in response.
So Support Group blew, and after a few weeks, I grew to be rather kicking-and-screaming about the
whole affair. In fact, on the Wednesday I made the acquaintance of Augustus Waters, I tried my level best
to get out of Support Group while sitting on the couch with my mom in the third leg of a twelve-hour
marathon of the previous season’s America’s Next Top Model , which admittedly I had already seen, but
still.
Me: “I refuse to attend Support Group.”
Mom: “One of the symptoms of depression is disinterest in activities.”
Me: “Please just let me watch America’s Next Top Model. It’s an activity.”
Mom: “Television is a passivity.”
Me: “Ugh, Mom, please.”
Mom: “Hazel, you’re a teenager. You’re not a little kid anymore. You need to make friends, get out
of the house, and live your life.”
Me: “If you want me to be a teenager, don’t send me to Support Group. Buy me a fake ID so I can go
to clubs, drink vodka, and take pot.”
Mom: “You don’t take pot, for starters.”
Me: “See, that’s the kind of thing I’d know if you got me a fake ID.”
Mom: “You’re going to Support Group.”
Me: “UGGGGGGGGGGGGG.”
Mom: “Hazel, you deserve a life.”
That shut me up, although I failed to see how attendance at Support Group met the definition of life.
Still, I agreed to go—after negotiating the right to record the 1.5 episodes of ANTM I’d be missing.
I went to Support Group for the same reason that I’d once allowed nurses with a mere eighteen
months of graduate education to poison me with exotically named chemicals: I wanted to make my parents
happy. There is only one thing in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you’re sixteen, and
that’s having a kid who bites it from cancer.
Mom pulled into the circular driveway behind the church at 4:56. I pretended to fiddle with my oxygen
tank for a second just to kill time.
“Do you want me to carry it in for you?”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. The cylindrical green tank only weighed a few pounds, and I had this little
steel cart to wheel it around behind me. It delivered two liters of oxygen to me each minute through a
cannula, a transparent tube that split just beneath my neck, wrapped behind my ears, and then reunited in
my nostrils. The contraption was necessary because my lungs sucked at being lungs.
“I love you,” she said as I got out.
“You too, Mom. See you at six.”
“Make friends!” she said through the rolled-down window as I walked away.
I didn’t want to take the elevator because taking the elevator is a Last Days kind of activity at
Support Group, so I took the stairs.

Patricia, the daughter.

Are they ever old enough for the dying?

Nick holds his children close to his heart, his long arms locked on, one to each.

Dad! Each in their own way.

Tongueless in a time of many tongues. People saying things. Condolences. Sorrows. Good Wishes. Sad-happy reminiscences.

Tongues which carve her out. Statues. Bas-reliefs. Hammered in steel. Chipped totems from the North Country. Working. Working. All these good people working to create, to present him with something—but, For what?

“Thank you.”

“Yes, I remember her doing that!”

“Can we ever forget that summer at the lake?”

“She was such a good woman of faith.”

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Karen was, was, how can I say it Nick? She was really real. Hell, that’s not what I want to say. See, she was the first one Ruth wanted to tell. That’s it! Not her mother. Not her sisters. No. “Call Karen!” she had ordered—great Prussian General that Ruth is! Ha. Ha. But, “Call Karen!” The first one to tell about the baby. That’s what she was, more than a sister.”

Then he and Ruth burst into tears as Nick consoles them.



2020. Like perfect eye-sight. He can’t stop himself from calculating. Subtracting 2020 minus 1982 equals 38 on her next birthday. Etched on her tombstone. She now no longer in his eye-sight.

The receiving line duty over, Nick watches those members of his family: siblings, cousins. great aunts, who were still anchored to the spot. How many Niegsches were about? More than twenty, for sure. What a crew! Hammerheads. Old tobacco spitting Huns! Fleeing something. Conscription. Poverty. “Poverty of imagination,” that’s what his own Granddad had said. “This is the New World. It’s where you're free to imagine your own future!”

In Minnesota, the Old World Irish and Germans readily shared a romantic imagination. Their intermarrying was hastened by intertwined ancient racial roots and a shared Catholic faith tradition, either Roman or Lutheran. Karen McElroy was pure Irish and a dedicated Roman Catholic. “Faith was her fervor!” Her father first said that at her First Communion. It stuck as her byline. Although a bit of a free spirit in her youth, she had built her marriage and family around the biblical imagination. For her, her husband was the head, she the heart and soul of the family and the marriage.

In so many ways Karen imagined Nick into being. He actually liked explaining that. For him, she was both the keel and rudder of his life. She guided him down the stream of how he came to understand himself as a father: as provider, protector, and head of the family...as he came to understand himself as husband: moral and spiritual exemplar to her and the children...as he came to understand himself as a community leader and as a responsible corporate executive. All their married growth was grounded in the honor, respect, and love Karen offered, heartfelt, through their shared intimacy. “I am the man I am today because of her deep faith in God's plan for men and women, for our family. God is Love and my blessing is that Karen is my Love.”

Karen died, mother, with twins—high school juniors. Nick was launched into an unknown universe. For what was life without Karen? Not just his mind amok—although his condition gave essential meaning to the word dysfunctional, it was more a disruption of his soul. With her gone, he had lost his tether to the world. She was more than his heart, even more than simply a spouse. She unleashed him, was a catalyst stirring up within him feelings for which he had no words, even less concepts.

Not merely a soul-mate. Nothing that pedestrian. She had taken him on a journey into the mystery of intimacy. He, right at this moment, has been plucked out of that mystery; cast down not just to Earth from the Sky but into an inner darkness within which he sees no light. He is as if a robot, no, more a puppet whose mistress no longer pulls the strings. He is forlorn; alienated.

Nick walks down the church steps. In some part of his mind he is saying that to himself, “Nick walks down the steps.” He is aware that he is eyeing himself as if a deity, an ex machina entity whom everyone expects has dropped onto the stage in the Final Act to sum up the storyline, to make everyone understand, no, more, feel in their hearts what her life was about.

But Nick Niegsch is a mere mortal—a father, a widower. A wandering soul.

“Son!” My father calls.

“Daughter!” He has mom’s look in his eyes.

They all embrace.

Ah, the special cruelty of Minnesota death. Like Kiev death. Like Eskimo death. Wherever the mystic polar bear roams, there it is always deep January regardless of calendar. Minnesota death is a mystical freezing of the soul and heart beyond understanding. All that is real is as well symbolic—frosted breaths are smoke signals without meaning, leading a lost people flailing for a sign in the blizzard, seeking, “Where is she?” We must augur the Northern Lights!



Twins: seventeen, nearing eighteen.

Sean is the son.

[img]http://www.npr.org/books/titles/145340771/the-fault-in-our-stars[/img]

Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I
rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently,
and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.
Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the
side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of
dying. (Cancer is also a side effect of dying. Almost everything is, really.) But my mom believed I
required treatment, so she took me to see my Regular Doctor Jim, who agreed that I was veritably
swimming in a paralyzing and totally clinical depression, and that therefore my meds should be adjusted
and also I should attend a weekly Support Group.
This Support Group featured a rotating cast of characters in various states of tumor-driven
unwellness. Why did the cast rotate? A side effect of dying.
The Support Group, of course, was depressing as hell. It met every Wednesday in the basement of a
stone-walled Episcopal church shaped like a cross. We all sat in a circle right in the middle of the cross,
where the two boards would have met, where the heart of Jesus would have been.
I noticed this because Patrick, the Support Group Leader and only person over eighteen in the room,
talked about the heart of Jesus every freaking meeting, all about how we, as young cancer survivors, were
sitting right in Christ’s very sacred heart and whatever.
So here’s how it went in God’s heart: The six or seven or ten of us walked/wheeled in, grazed at a
decrepit selection of cookies and lemonade, sat down in the Circle of Trust, and listened to Patrick
recount for the thousandth time his depressingly miserable life story—how he had cancer in his balls and
they thought he was going to die but he didn’t die and now here he is, a full-grown adult in a church
basement in the 137th nicest city in America, divorced, addicted to video games, mostly friendless, eking
out a meager living by exploiting his cancertastic past, slowly working his way toward a master’s degree
that will not improve his career prospects, waiting, as we all do, for the sword of Damocles to give him
the relief that he escaped lo those many years ago when cancer took both of his nuts but spared what only
the most generous soul would call his life.
AND YOU TOO MIGHT BE SO LUCKY!

Although Benin City was retaken by the Nigerians on 22 September, the Biafrans succeeded in their primary objective by tying down as many Nigerian Federal troops as they could. Gen. Gowon also launched an offensive into Biafra south from the Niger Delta to the riverine area using the bulk of the Lagos Garrison command under Colonel Benjamin Adekunle (called the Black Scorpion) to form the 3rd Infantry Division (which was later renamed as the 3rd Marine Commando). As the war continued, the Nigerian Army recruited amongst a wider area, including the Yoruba, Itshekiri, Urhobo, Edo, Ijaw, and etc. Four battalions of the Nigerian 2nd Infantry Division were needed to drive the Biafrans back and eliminate their territorial gains made during the offensive. The Nigerians were repulsed three times as they attempted to cross the River Niger during October, resulting in the loss of thousands of troops, dozens of tanks and equipment. The first attempt by the 2nd Infantry Division on 12 October to cross the Niger from the town of Asaba to the Biafran city of Onitsha cost the Nigerian Federal Army over 5,000 soldiers killed, wounded, captured or missing. Operation Tiger Claw (October 17–20, 1967) was a military conflict between Nigerian and Biafran military forces. On October 17, 1967 Nigerians invaded Calabar led by the "Black Scorpion", Benjamin Adekunle while the Biafrans were led by Col. Ogbu Ogi, who was responsible for controlling the area between Calabar and Opobo, and Lynn Garrison a foreign mercenary. The Biafrans came under immediate fire from the water and the air. For the next two days Biafran stations and military supplies were bombarded by the Nigerian air force. That same day Lynn Garrison reached Calabar but came under immediate fire by federal troops. By October 20, Garrison's forces withdrew from the battle while Col. Ogi officially surrendered to Gen. Adekunle.
Stalemate

From 1968 onward, the war fell into a form of stalemate, with Nigerian forces unable to make significant advances into the remaining areas of Biafran control due to stiff resistance and major defeats in Abagana, Arochukwu, Oguta, Umuahia (Operation OAU), Onne, Ikot Ekpene, and etc. But another Nigerian offensive from April to June 1968 began to close the ring around the Biafrans with further advances on the two northern fronts and the capture of Port Harcourt on 19 May 1968. The blockade of the surrounded Biafrans led to a humanitarian disaster when it emerged that there was widespread civilian hunger and starvation in the besieged Igbo areas. The Biafran government claimed that Nigeria was using hunger and genocide to win the war, and sought aid from the outside world. A Nigerian commission, including British doctors from the Liverpool University School of Tropical Medicine, visited Biafra after the war and concluded that the evidence of deliberate starvation was overplayed, caused by confusion between the symptoms of starvation and various tropical illnesses. They did not doubt that starvation had occurred, but were unsurprisingly not clear of the extent to which it was a result of the Nigerian blockade or the restriction of food to the civilians by the Biafran government

Many volunteer bodies organised the Biafran airlift which provided blockade-breaking relief flights into Biafra, carrying food, medicines, and sometimes (according to some claims) weapons. More common was the claim that the arms-carrying aircraft would closely shadow aid aircraft, making it more difficult to distinguish between aid aircraft and military supply aircraft.It has been argued that by prolonging the war the Biafran relief effort (characterised by Canadian development consultant Ian Smillie as "an act of unfortunate and profound folly", contributed to the deaths of as many as 180,000 civilians.

In response to the Nigerian government using foreigners to lead some advances, the Biafran government also began hiring foreign mercenaries to extend the war.[citation needed] Only German born Rolf Steiner a Lt. Col. with the 4th Commandos, and Major Taffy Williams, a Welshman would remain for the duration. Nigeria also used 'mercenaries', in the form of Egyptian pilots for their air force MiG 17 fighters and Il 28 bombers. The Egyptian conscripts frequently attacked civilian rather than military targets, bombing numerous Red Cross shelters.

Bernard Kouchner was one of a number of French doctors who volunteered with the French Red Cross to work in hospitals and feeding centres in besieged Biafra. The Red Cross required volunteers to sign an agreement, which was seen by some (like Kouchner and his supporters) as being similar to a gag order, that was designed to maintain the organisation's neutrality, whatever the circumstances. Kouchner and the other French doctors signed this agreement.

After entering the country, the volunteers, in addition to Biafran health workers and hospitals, were subjected to attacks by the Nigerian army, and witnessed civilians being murdered and starved by the blockading forces. Kouchner also witnessed these events, particularly the huge number of starving children, and when he returned to France, he publicly criticised the Nigerian government and the Red Cross for their seemingly complicit behaviour. With the help of other French doctors, Kouchner put Biafra in the media spotlight and called for an international response to the situation. These doctors, led by Kouchner, concluded that a new aid organisation was needed that would ignore political/religious boundaries and prioritise the welfare of victims. They created Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) in 1971.[24]

In September 1968, the federal army planned what Gowon described as the "final offensive." Initially the final offensive was neutralised by Biafran troops by the end of the year after several Nigerian troops were routed in Biafran ambushes. In the latter stages, a Southern FMG offensive managed to break through. However in 1969, the Biafrans launched several offensives against the Nigerians in their attempts to keep the Nigerians off-balance starting in March when the 14th Division of the Biafran army recaptured Owerri and moved towards Port Harcourt, but were halted just north of the city. In May 1969, Biafran commandos recaptured oil wells in Kwale. In July 1969, Biafran forces launched a major land offensive supported by foreign mercenary pilots continuing to fly in food, medical supplies and weapons. Most notable of the mercenaries was Swedish Count Carl Gustav von Rosen who led air attacks with five Malmö MFI-9 MiniCOIN small piston-engined aircraft, armed with rocket pods and machine guns. His BAF (Biafran Air Force) consisted of three Swedes: von Rosen, Gunnar Haglund and Martin Lang. The other two pilots were Biafrans: Willy Murray-Bruce and Augustus Opke. From 22 May to 8 July 1969 von Rosen's small force attacked Nigerian military airfields in Port Harcourt, Enugu, Benin City and Ughelli, destroying or damaging a number of Nigerian Air Force jets used to attack relief flights, including a few Mig-17's and three out of Nigeria's six Ilyushin Il-28 bombers that were used to bomb Biafran villages and farms on a daily basis. Although the Biafran offensives of 1969 were a tactical success, the Nigerians soon recovered. The Biafran air attacks did disrupt the combat operations of the Nigerian Air Force, but only for a few months.

One of the interesting characters assisting Count Carl Gustav von Rosen was Lynn Garrison, an ex-RCAF fighter pilot. He introduced the Count to a Canadian method of dropping bagged supplies to remote areas in Canada without losing the contents. He showed how one sack of food could be placed inside a larger sack before the supply drop. When the package hit the ground the inner sack would rupture while the outer one kept the contents intact. With this method many tons of food were dropped to many Biafrans who would otherwise have died of starvation.

End of the war

With increased British support the Nigerian federal forces launched their final offensive against the Biafrans once again on 23 December 1969 with a major thrust by the 3rd Marine Commando Division the division was commanded by Col. Obasanjo (who later became president twice) which succeeded in splitting the Biafran enclave into two by the end of the year. The final Nigerian offensive, named "Operation Tail-Wind", launched on 7 January 1970 with the 3rd Marine Commando Division attacking, and supported by the 1st Infantry division to the north and the 2nd Infantry division to the south. The Biafran town of Owerri fell on 9 January, and Uli fell on 11 January. Only a few days earlier, Ojukwu fled into exile by flying by plane to the Ivory Coast, leaving his deputy Philip Effiong to handle the details of the surrender to General Yakubu Gowon of the federal army on 13 January 1970. The war finally ended a few days later with the Nigerian forces advancing in the remaining Biafran held territories with little opposition.

After the war Gowon said, "The tragic chapter of violence is just ended. We are at the dawn of national reconciliation. Once again we have an opportunity to build a new nation. My dear compatriots, we must pay homage to the fallen, to the heroes who have made the supreme sacrifice that we may be able to build a nation, great in justice, fair trade, and industry.

Aftermath and legacy

The war cost the Igbos a great deal in terms of lives, money and infrastructure. It has been estimated that up to three million people may have died due to the conflict, most from hunger and disease.[26] Reconstruction, helped by the oil money, was swift; however, the old ethnic and religious tensions remained a constant feature of Nigerian politics. Accusations were made of Nigerian government officials diverting resources meant for reconstruction in the former Biafran areas to their ethnic areas. Military government continued in power in Nigeria for many years, and people in the oil-producing areas claimed they were being denied a fair share of oil revenues.[27] Laws were passed mandating that political parties could not be ethnically or tribally based; however, it has been hard to make this work in practice.

Igbos who ran for their lives during the pogroms and war returned to find their positions had been taken over; and when the war was over the government did not feel any need to re-instate them, preferring to regard them as having resigned. This reasoning was also extended to Igbo-owned properties and houses. People from other regions were quick to take over any house owned by an Igbo, especially in the Port Harcourt area. The Nigerian Government justified this by terming such properties abandoned. This, however, has led to a feeling of an injustice as the Nigerian government policies were seen as further economically disabling the Igbos even long after the war. Further feelings of injustice were caused by Nigeria changing its currency, so that Biafran supplies of pre-war Nigerian currency were no longer honoured. At the end of the war, only N£20 was given to any easterner regardless of the amount of money he or she had had in the bank. This was applied irrespective of their banking in pre-war Nigerian currency or Biafran currency. This was seen as a deliberate policy to hold back the Igbo middle class, leaving them with little wealth to expand their business interests.

On 29 May 2000, The Guardian (Nigeria) reported that President Olusegun Obasanjo commuted to retirement the dismissal of all military persons who fought for the breakaway state of Biafra during the Nigerian civil war. In a national broadcast, he said that the decision was based on the principle that "justice must at all times be tempered with mercy."

The Nigerian Civil War, also known as the Nigerian–Biafran War, 6 July 1967 – 15 January 1970, was a political conflict caused by the attempted secession of the southeastern provinces of Nigeria as the self-proclaimed Republic of Biafra. The conflict was the result of economic, ethnic, cultural and religious tensions among the various peoples of Nigeria

Background

As with many other African nations, Nigeria was an artificial structure initiated by former colonial powers which had neglected to consider religious, linguistic, and ethnic differences.[8] Nigeria, which gained independence from Britain in 1960, had at that time a population of 60 million people consisting of nearly 300 differing ethnic and cultural groups.

More than fifty years earlier, Great Britain carved an area out of West Africa containing hundreds of different ethnic groups and unified it, calling it Nigeria. Although the area contained many different groups, the three predominant groups were the Igbo, which formed between 60–70% of the population in the southeast; the Hausa-Fulani, which formed about 65% of the peoples in the northern part of the territory; and the Yoruba, which formed about 75% of the population in the southwestern part.

The semi-feudal and Islamic Hausa-Fulani in the North were traditionally ruled by a feudal, conservative Islamic hierarchy consisting of Emirs who, in turn, owed their allegiance to a supreme Sultan. This Sultan was regarded as the source of all political power and religious authority.

The Yoruba political system in the southwest, like that of the Hausa-Fulani, also consisted of a series of monarchs being the Oba. The Yoruba monarchs, however, were less autocratic than those in the North, and the political and social system of the Yoruba accordingly allowed for greater upward mobility based on acquired rather than inherited wealth and title.

The Igbo in the southeast, in contrast to the two other groups, lived mostly in autonomous, democratically organised communities, although there were monarchs in many of these ancient cities such as the Kingdom of Nri. In its zenith it controlled most of Igbo land, including influence on the Anioma people, Arochukwu which controlled slavery in Igbo and Onitsha land. Unlike the other two regions, decisions among the Igbo were made by a general assembly in which men could participate.

The differing political systems among these three peoples reflected and produced divergent customs and values. The Hausa-Fulani commoners, having contact with the political system only through their village head who was designated by the Emir or one of his subordinates, did not view political leaders as amenable to influence. Political decisions were to be submitted to. As with other highly authoritarian religious and political systems, leadership positions were taken by persons willing to be subservient and loyal to superiors. A chief function of this political system was to maintain Islamic and conservative values, which caused many Hausa-Fulani to view economic and social innovation as subversive or sacrilegious.

In contrast to the Hausa-Fulani, the Igbo often participated directly in the decisions which affected their lives. They had a lively awareness of the political system and regarded it as an instrument for achieving their own personal goals. Status was acquired through the ability to arbitrate disputes that might arise in the village, and through acquiring rather than inheriting wealth. With their emphasis upon social achievement and political participation, the Igbo adapted to and challenged colonial rule in innovative ways.

These tradition-derived differences were perpetuated and, perhaps, even enhanced by the British system of colonial rule in Nigeria. In the North, the British found it convenient to rule indirectly through the Emirs, thus perpetuating rather than changing the indigenous authoritarian political system. As a concomitant of this system, Christian missionaries were excluded from the North, and the area thus remained virtually closed to European cultural imperialism, in contrast to the Igbo, the richest of whom sent many of their sons to British universities. During the ensuing years, the Northern Emirs thus were able to maintain traditional political and religious institutions, while reinforcing their social structure. In this division, the North, at the time of independence in 1960, was by far the most underdeveloped area in Nigeria, with a literacy rate of 2% as compared to 19.2% in the East (literacy in Arabic script, learned in connection with religious education, was higher). The West enjoyed a much higher literacy level, being the first part of the country to have contact with western education in addition to the free primary education program of the pre-independence Western Regional Government.

In the South, the missionaries rapidly introduced Western forms of education. Consequently, the Yoruba were the first group in Nigeria to adopt Western bureaucratic social norms and they provided the first African civil servants, doctors, lawyers, and other technicians and professionals.

In Igbo areas, missionaries were introduced at a later date because of British difficulty in establishing firm control over the highly autonomous Igbo communities. However, the Igbo people took to Western education actively, and they overwhelmingly came to adopt Christianity. Population pressure in the Igbo homeland combined with aspirations for monetary wages drove thousands of Igbo to other parts of Nigeria in search of work. By the 1960s, Igbo political culture was more unified and the region relatively prosperous, with tradesmen and literate elites active not just in the traditionally Igbo South, but throughout Nigeria.

The British colonial ideology that divided Nigeria into three regions—North, West and East—exacerbated the already well-developed economic, political, and social differences among Nigeria's different ethnic groups. It has been described as a "deliberate ethnic and religious gerrymander to keep the nation weak, unstable and open to the plunder of its vast oil reserves by UK companies, led by British Petroleum (BP)".[13] The country was divided in such a way that the North had a slightly higher population than the other two regions combined. On this basis the Northern Region was allocated a majority of the seats in the Federal Legislature established by the colonial authorities. Within each of the three regions the dominant ethnic groups, the Hausa-Fulani, Yoruba, and Igbo, respectively formed political parties that were largely regional and based on ethnic allegiances: the Northern People's Congress (NPC) in the North; the Action Group in the West (AG); and the National Conference of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC) in the East. These parties were not exclusively homogeneous in terms of their ethnic or regional make-up; the disintegration of Nigeria resulted largely from the fact that these parties were primarily based in one region and one tribe. To simplify matters, we will refer to them here as the Hausa, Yoruba, and Igbo-based; or Northern, Western and Eastern parties.

During the 1940s and 1950s the Igbo and Yoruba parties were in the forefront of the fight for independence from Britain. They also wanted an independent Nigeria to be organised into several small states so that the conservative North could not dominate the country. Northern leaders, however, fearful that independence would mean political and economic domination by the more Westernized elites in the South, preferred the perpetuation of British rule. As a condition for accepting independence, they demanded that the country continue to be divided into three regions with the North having a clear majority. Igbo and Yoruba leaders, anxious to obtain an independent country at all costs, accepted the Northern demands.

Military coups

On 15 January 1966, Major Kaduna Nzeogwu and other junior Army officers (mostly majors and captains) attempted a coup d'état. The two major political leaders of the north, the prime Minister, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and the Premier of the northern region, Sir Ahmadu Bello were executed by Major Nzeogwu. Also murdered was Sir Ahmadu Bello's wife. Meanwhile, the President, Sir Nnamdi Azikiwe, an Igbo, was on an extended vacation in the West Indies. He did not return until days after the coup. The coup, also referred to as "The Coup of the Five Majors", has been described in some quarters as Nigeria's only revolutionary coup. This was the first coup in the short life of Nigeria's nascent second democracy. Claims of electoral fraud were one of the reasons given by the coup plotters. This coup resulted in General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi, an Igbo and head of the Nigerian Army, taking power as President, becoming the first military head of state in Nigeria.

The coup d'état itself failed, as Ironsi rallied the military against the plotters. But Ironsi did not bring the failed plotters to trial as requested by military law and as advised by most northern and western officers. Ironsi then instituted military rule by subverting the constitutional succession and alleging that the democratic institutions had failed and that, while he was defending them, they clearly needed revision and clean-up before reversion back to democratic rule. The coup, despite its failure, was wrongly perceived as having benefited mostly the Igbo because most of the known coup plotters were Igbo. However Ironsi, himself an Igbo, was thought to have made numerous attempts to please Northerners. The other event that also fuelled the so-called "Igbo conspiracy" was the killing of Northern leaders, and the killing of the Colonel Shodeinde's pregnant wife by the coup executioners. Despite the overwhelming contradictions of the coup being executed by mostly Northern soldiers (such as John Atom Kpera, later military governor of Benue State), the killing of Igbo soldier Lieutenant-Colonel Arthur Unegbe by coup executioners, and Ironsi's termination of an Igbo-led coup, the ease by which Ironsi stopped the coup led to suspicion that the Igbo coup plotters planned all along to pave the way for Ironsi to take the reins of power in Nigeria.

In the face of provocation from the southern-dominated media which repeatedly showed humiliating posters and cartoons of the slain northern politicians, on the night of 29 July 1966, northern soldiers at Abeokuta barracks mutinied, thus precipitating a counter-coup, which may very well have been in the planning stages. The counter-coup led to the installation of Lieutenant-Colonel Yakubu Gowon as Supreme Commander of the Nigerian Armed Forces, despite the intransigence of Mohammed who wanted the role of Supreme Commander for himself. Gowon was chosen as a compromise candidate. He was a Northerner, a Christian, from a minority tribe, and had a good reputation within the army. Ethnic tensions due to the coup and counter-coup increased and more mass pogroms in July and September 1966 took place.

Breakaway

The military governor of the Igbo-dominated southeast, Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu, citing the northern massacres and electoral fraud, proclaimed with southern parliament the secession of the south-eastern region from Nigeria as the Republic of Biafra, an independent nation on 30 May 1967. Although the very young nation had a chronic shortage of weapons to go to war, it was determined to defend itself. Although there was much sympathy in Europe and elsewhere, only five countries (Tanzania, Gabon, Côte d'Ivoire, Zambia and Haiti) officially recognised the new republic.

Several peace accords, especially the one held at Aburi, Ghana (the Aburi Accord), collapsed and the shooting war soon followed. Ojukwu managed at Aburi to get agreement to a confederation for Nigeria, rather than a federation. He was warned by his advisers that this reflected a failure of Gowon to understand the difference and, that being the case, predicted that it would be reneged upon. When this happened, Ojukwu regarded it as both a failure by Gowon to keep to the spirit of the Aburi agreement, and lack of integrity on the side of the Nigerian Military Government in the negotiations toward a united Nigeria. Gowon's advisers, to the contrary, felt that he had enacted as much as was politically feasible in fulfillment of the spirit of Aburi.[17] The Eastern region was very ill equipped for war, outmanned and outgunned by the Nigerians. Their advantages included fighting in their homeland, support of most Easterners, determination, and use of limited resources. The UK and the Soviet Union supported (especially militarily) the Nigerian government while Canada, Israel, and France helped the Biafrans. The United States seemed to be neutral but helped the Biafrans through the Red Cross.

War

The Nigerian government launched a "police action" to retake the secessionist territory. The war began on 6 July 1967 when Nigerian Federal troops advanced in two columns into Biafra. The Nigerian army offensive was through the north of Biafra led by Colonel Shuwa and the local military units were formed as the 1st Infantry Division. The division was led mostly by northern officers. After facing unexpectedly fierce resistance and high casualties, the right-hand Nigerian column advanced on the town of Nsukka which fell on 14 July, while the left-hand column made for Garkem, which was captured on 12 July. At this stage of the war, the other regions of Nigeria (the West and Mid-West) still considered the war as a confrontation between the north (mainly Hausas) against the east (mainly Igbos).[citation needed] But the Biafrans responded with an offensive of their own when, on 9 August, the Biafran forces moved west into the Mid-Western Nigerian region across the Niger river, passing through Benin City, until they were stopped at Ore (in present day Ondo State) just over the state boundary on 21 August, just 130 miles east of the Nigerian capital of Lagos. The Biafran attack was led by Lt. Col. Banjo, a Yoruba, with the Biafran rank of brigadier. The attack met little resistance and the Mid-West was easily taken over. This was due to the pre-secession arrangement that all soldiers should return to their regions to stop the spate of killings, in which Igbo soldiers had been major victims.[10][18] The Nigerian soldiers that were supposed to defend the Mid-West state were mostly Mid-West Igbo and while some were in touch with their eastern counterparts, others resisted. General Gowon responded by asking Colonel Murtala Mohammed (who later became head of state in 1975) to form another division (the 2nd Infantry Division) to expel the Biafrans from the Mid-West, as well as defend the West side and attack Biafra from the West as well. As Nigerian forces retook the Mid-West, the Biafran military administrator declared the Republic of Benin on 19 September, though it ceased to exist the next day. (The present country of Benin, west of Nigeria, was still named Dahomey at that time.)

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Do you have any exes who were so awful you can’t help wondering, “What the hell was I thinking?” Join the club. If you’d like to make sure you’re with Mr. or Ms. Right, watch out for these 10 signs you’re dating the wrong person

1. You feel like you have to wear a mask.

If you’re putting on a song-and-dance in an elaborate attempt to impress your partner, you might be dating the wrong person

Your partner should love you as you are. Does it feel like they are trying to mold you into an entirely different person? If so, it might be time to let them go.

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If it seems like your partner is more interested in how you fit in their world than they are with your individual needs, you might be dating the wrong person.

Even though you just went to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving last year, he gets upset when you suggest visiting your parents this year. Despite the fact that she knows you haven’t had a night out with the guys in over a month because work’s been so busy, she pitches a fit because you’re not spending time with her. If your partner’s words and actions scream, “ME-ME-ME,” you should find someone who appreciates your needs (and not only theirs).

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If you haven’t introduced your partner to your friends or family despite spending a decent amount of time together, you might be dating the wrong person.

Let’s just face it, shall we? There are only a few reasons why you wouldn’t introduce your partner to your friends or family, and none of them are pretty. If you’re so embarrassed by this person that you don’t want to invite them into your social circles, do everyone a favor and pull the plug.

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If your partner is always waiting for their turn to speak, you might be dating the wrong person.

They always go off on tangents about their day at work, but never seem interested in yours. They always suggest where they’d like to go, but never seem to care what you think. If your partner does a whole lot of speaking (but never listens), you might want to find someone not so self-centered to share your life with.

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If spending time with your partner exhausts you, you might be dating the wrong person.

Even the best of relationship include the occasional fight, but this should be the exception, not the norm. You should feel happy and alive with your partner, not sad and stuck.

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If your partner has no hobbies or interests outside of your relationship, you might be dating the wrong person.

Who would want to date a person who isn’t passionate about anything? Tread carefully if your partner has zero life goals, because relationships with a person lacking ambition are anything but fulfilling. And that brings us to…

8. They expect 24/7 Companionship.

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If your partner never has anything nice to say, you might be dating the wrong person.

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If the thought of a life-long commitment makes you want to curl up in a ball and weep, you might be dating the wrong person.

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Are you dating the right person? I hope this list helps you find out. Leave a comment with any additional signs you think we should be on the look-out for.

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