₦airaland Forum

There is actually nothing to review. Forward ever.

efilefun:
Her stomach like all those nollywood scenes... But is she going to breastfeed the baby with those silicon in her boobbbby

Some people don't think about the future before taking decisions, silicon in boobbbby and tattoo on the same boobbbby chaiii pikin go suck

You need a brain. What nonsense future can she possibly think about without being alive to live it. You think the silicon is just for fashion?

Setaje:
Am just so scared of getting married God. What is this. My heart can't take all this o. God

My own phobia is worse. Am yet to fix a date since feb when he proposed. I rather die single dan spend a min pretending to be married.

we use mortal and pestle

You dont want pre marital sex, and he cant have a relationship without sex, yet you went ahead with an agreement that he will break off ones he feels like having it.

You need to built your self worth bea.
Believe me. I was like you. My purpose was diferent sha. I was using mine to keep the sex freaked ones away, cos I wanted more than a 5mins pleasure in my relationship. I needed a guy with some level of self control, someone I can trust, relate with and learn from. And I found him much later. And that is because I value my self alot, I try not to let it get to my head sha. I know want am bringing into the relationship, and it will only take a man of vision to stick around.

You are precious dear. Work on all areas of your life, career, sexual, knowledge, versatility. Stand out. Stick to your conditions. Dont let him make you an option.

What happens to you when he feels like doing it...
You will still come here to cry??
Or probably give him

I couldn't help it nicki
I hope u have learnt your lessons

nickibarb:
please what is coolidge effect? i'm about to ask google sha but maybe you can tell me. marriage is 2 years and 6 months old. we're still very much in love so, for now, unless some demonic girl tries to get a hold on him with blackmagic, i am 100% sure that cheating is not in the books.

Following. .Pls share rate too

What time of the yr is the best for planting?

Can I get an estimate of how much I will need to start in a virgin plot of land.
A step by step cost analysis pls.

And finally, how much I can make out of it after harvest.

If this is ezinne Then marriage changed alot about her. I doubt shes d one

http://mindofmalaka.com/2012/01/18/you-lazy-intellectual-african-scum/?shared=email&msg=fail




YOU LAZY (INTELLECTUAL) AFRICAN SCUM!


They call the Third World the lazy man’s purview; the sluggishly slothful and languorous prefecture. In this realm people are sleepy, dreamy, torpid, lethargic, and therefore indigent—totally penniless, needy, destitute, poverty-stricken, disfavored, and impoverished. In this demesne, as they call it, there are hardly any discoveries, inventions, and innovations. Africa is the trailblazer. Some still call it “the dark continent” for the light that flickers under the tunnel is not that of hope, but an approaching train. And because countless keep waiting in the way of the train, millions die and many more remain decapitated by the day.

“It’s amazing how you all sit there and watch yourselves die,” the man next to me said. “Get up and do something about it.”

Brawny, fully bald-headed, with intense, steely eyes, he was as cold as they come. When I first discovered I was going to spend my New Year’s Eve next to him on a non-stop JetBlue flight from Los Angeles to Boston I was angst-ridden. I associate marble-shaven Caucasians with iconoclastic skin-heads, most of who are racist.

“My name is Walter,” he extended his hand as soon as I settled in my seat.

I told him mine with a precautious smile.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Zambia.”

“Zambia!” he exclaimed, “Kaunda’s country.”

“Yes,” I said, “Now Sata’s.”

“But of course,” he responded. “You just elected King Cobra as your president.”

My face lit up at the mention of Sata’s moniker. Walter smiled, and in those cold eyes I saw an amenable fellow, one of those American highbrows who shuttle between Africa and the U.S.

“I spent three years in Zambia in the 1980s,” he continued. “I wined and dined with Luke Mwananshiku, Willa Mungomba, Dr. Siteke Mwale, and many other highly intelligent Zambians.” He lowered his voice. “I was part of the IMF group that came to rip you guys off.” He smirked. “Your government put me in a million dollar mansion overlooking a shanty called Kalingalinga. From my patio I saw it all—the rich and the poor, the ailing, the dead, and the healthy.”

“Are you still with the IMF?” I asked.

“I have since moved to yet another group with similar intentions. In the next few months my colleagues and I will be in Lusaka to hypnotize the cobra. I work for the broker that has acquired a chunk of your debt. Your government owes not the World Bank, but us millions of dollars. We’ll be in Lusaka to offer your president a couple of millions and fly back with a check twenty times greater.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “King Cobra is incorruptible. He is …”

He was laughing. “Says who? Give me an African president, just one, who has not fallen for the carrot and stick.”

Quett Masire’s name popped up.

“Oh, him, well, we never got to him because he turned down the IMF and the World Bank. It was perhaps the smartest thing for him to do.”

At midnight we were airborne. The captain wished us a happy 2012 and urged us to watch the fireworks across Los Angeles.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” Walter said looking down.

From my middle seat, I took a glance and nodded admirably.

“That’s white man’s country,” he said. “We came here on Mayflower and turned Indian land into a paradise and now the most powerful nation on earth. We discovered the bulb, and built this aircraft to fly us to pleasure resorts like Lake Zambia.”

I grinned. “There is no Lake Zambia.”

He curled his lips into a smug smile. “That’s what we call your country. You guys are as stagnant as the water in the lake. We come in with our large boats and fish your minerals and your wildlife and leave morsels—crumbs. That’s your staple food, crumbs. That corn-meal you eat, that’s crumbs, the small Tilapia fish you call Kapenta is crumbs. We the Bwanas (whites) take the cat fish. I am the Bwana and you are the Muntu. I get what I want and you get what you deserve, crumbs. That’s what lazy people get—Zambians, Africans, the entire Third World.”


The smile vanished from my face.

“I see you are getting pissed off,” Walter said and lowered his voice. “You are thinking this Bwana is a racist. That’s how most Zambians respond when I tell them the truth. They go ballistic. Okay. Let’s for a moment put our skin pigmentations, this black and white crap, aside. Tell me, my friend, what is the difference between you and me?”

“There’s no difference.”

“Absolutely none,” he exclaimed. “Scientists in the Human Genome Project have proved that. It took them thirteen years to determine the complete sequence of the three billion DNA subunits. After they

were all done it was clear that 99.9% nucleotide bases were exactly the same in you and me. We are the same people. All white, Asian, Latino, and black people on this aircraft are the same.”

I gladly nodded.

“And yet I feel superior,” he smiled fatalistically. “Every white person on this plane feels superior to a black person. The white guy who picks up garbage, the homeless white trash on drugs, feels superior to you no matter his status or education. I can pick up a nincompoop from the New York streets, clean him up, and take him to Lusaka and you all be crowding around him chanting muzungu, muzungu and yet he’s a riffraff. Tell me why my angry friend.”

For a moment I was wordless.

“Please don’t blame it on slavery like the African Americans do, or colonialism, or some psychological impact or some kind of stigmatization. And don’t give me the brainwash poppycock. Give me a better answer.”

I was thinking.

He continued. “Excuse what I am about to say. Please do not take offense.”

I felt a slap of blood rush to my head and prepared for the worst.

“You my friend flying with me and all your kind are lazy,” he said. “When you rest your head on the pillow you don’t dream big. You and other so-called African intellectuals are damn lazy, each one of you. It is you, and not those poor starving people, who is the reason Africa is in such a deplorable state.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” I protested.

He was implacable. “Oh yes it is and I will say it again, you are lazy. Poor and uneducated Africans are the most hardworking people on earth. I saw them in the Lusaka markets and on the street selling merchandise. I saw them in villages toiling away. I saw women on Kafue Road crushing stones for sell and I wept. I said to myself where are the Zambian intellectuals? Are the Zambian engineers so imperceptive they cannot invent a simple stone crusher, or a simple water filter to purify well water for those poor villagers? Are you telling me that after thirty-seven years of independence your university school of engineering has not produced a scientist or an engineer who can make simple small machines for mass use? What is the school there for?”

I held my breath.

“Do you know where I found your intellectuals? They were in bars quaffing. They were at the Lusaka Golf Club, Lusaka Central Club, Lusaka Playhouse, and Lusaka Flying Club. I saw with my own eyes a bunch of alcoholic graduates. Zambian intellectuals work from eight to five and spend the evening drinking. We don’t. We reserve the evening for brainstorming.”

He looked me in the eye.

“And you flying to Boston and all of you Zambians in the Diaspora are just as lazy and apathetic to your country. You don’t care about your country and yet your very own parents, brothers and sisters are in Mtendere, Chawama, and in villages, all of them living in squalor. Many have died or are dying of neglect by you. They are dying of AIDS because you cannot come up with your own cure. You are here calling yourselves graduates, researchers and scientists and are fast at articulating your credentials once asked—oh, I have a PhD in this and that—PhD my foot!”

I was deflated.

“Wake up you all!” he exclaimed, attracting the attention of nearby passengers. “You should be busy lifting ideas, formulae, recipes, and diagrams from American manufacturing factories and sending them to your own factories. All those research findings and dissertation papers you compile should be your country’s treasure. Why do you think the Asians are a force to reckon with? They stole our ideas and turned them into their own. Look at Japan, China, India, just look at them.”

He paused. “The Bwana has spoken,” he said and grinned. “As long as you are dependent on my plane, I shall feel superior and you my friend shall remain inferior, how about that? The Chinese, Japanese, Indians, even Latinos are a notch better. You Africans are at the bottom of the totem pole.”

He tempered his voice. “Get over this white skin syndrome and begin to feel confident. Become innovative and make your own stuff for god’s sake.”

At 8 a.m. the plane touched down at Boston’s Logan International Airport. Walter reached for my hand.

“I know I was too strong, but I don’t give it a damn. I have been to Zambia and have seen too much poverty.” He pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something. “Here, read this. It was written by a friend.”

He had written only the title: “Lords of Poverty.”

Thunderstruck, I had a sinking feeling. I watched Walter walk through the airport doors to a waiting car. He had left a huge dust devil twirling in my mind, stirring up sad memories of home. I could see Zambia’s literati—the cognoscente, intelligentsia, academics, highbrows, and scholars in the places he had mentioned guzzling and talking irrelevancies. I remembered some who have since passed—how they got the highest grades in mathematics and the sciences and attained the highest education on the planet. They had been to Harvard, Oxford, Yale, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), only to leave us with not a single invention or discovery. I knew some by name and drunk with them at the Lusaka Playhouse and Central Sports.

Walter is right. It is true that since independence we have failed to nurture creativity and collective orientations. We as a nation lack a workhorse mentality and behave like 13 million civil servants dependent on a government pay cheque. We believe that development is generated 8-to-5 behind a desk wearing a tie with our degrees hanging on the wall. Such a working environment does not offer the opportunity for fellowship, the excitement of competition, and the spectacle of innovative rituals.

But the intelligentsia is not solely, or even mainly, to blame. The larger failure is due to political circumstances over which they have had little control. The past governments failed to create an environment of possibility that fosters camaraderie, rewards innovative ideas and encourages resilience. KK, Chiluba, Mwanawasa, and Banda embraced orthodox ideas and therefore failed to offer many opportunities for drawing outside the line.
I believe King Cobra’s reset has been cast in the same faculties as those of his predecessors. If today I told him that we can build our own car, he would throw me out.

“Naupena? Fuma apa.” (Are you mad? Get out of here)

Knowing well that King Cobra will not embody innovation at Walter’s level let’s begin to look for a technologically active-positive leader who can succeed him after a term or two. That way we can make our own stone crushers, water filters, water pumps, razor blades, and harvesters. Let’s dream big and make tractors, cars, and planes, or, like Walter said, forever remain inferior.

A fundamental transformation of our country from what is essentially non-innovative to a strategic superior African country requires a bold risk-taking educated leader with a triumphalist attitude and we have one in YOU. Don’t be highly strung and feel insulted by Walter. Take a moment and think about our country. Our journey from 1964 has been marked by tears. It has been an emotionally overwhelming experience. Each one of us has lost a loved one to poverty, hunger, and disease. The number of graves is catching up with the population. It’s time to change our political culture. It’s time for Zambian intellectuals to cultivate an active-positive progressive movement that will change our lives forever. Don’t be afraid or dispirited, rise to the challenge and salvage the remaining few of your beloved ones.

Field Ruwe is a US-based Zambian media practitioner and author. He is a PhD candidate with a B.A. in Mass Communication and Journalism, and an M.A. in History.

creamydude:
how old am I? Old enough to fork your brains out while you scream my name to the high heaven begging to hit it harder harder, pumping my thrust in like a machine gun... Not let you go until suck you puzzy clits to make you cum your puzzy juice on my bed...

I see why them gals are all on the run
Se.X starved niccur
Go empty your goods on some Ashi.

Immaturity at it's peak
How dare you post a gals pics without her consent....not like she's even your gal. You never even toast am, just one week of meeting
Go see a shrink. You definitely need help. All your thread is filled with confusion
How old are you

cyberdurable:
can u teach me? I tink I av a big lips :-D

Are you sure you are in for this?
You must swear an affidavit before I commence

God bless your hustle
Dont mind them. They prefer to do dirty deals to keep up with status.

Stay strong
Who God has blessed.......

His main charge is using alternate monikers to hype his business. See Debarrister's post


Using these monikers to insult any customer that complains.
He called Ladyinred a hater while still claiming 'Am looking into the matter" with his nix moniker.


How else does one identify a con artist again
Until he disappears with people's money ba

His doing nothing about ladyinred bale
Nix should return her money since he didnt delivery what he claimed.

cyberdurable:
His lips are big in d 1st pic, is that the Magic of make up? let me ask u miss, :-)

With make up you can make a bold lip smaller and a small one bigger. Thd magic is possible.
It may be the same person but I think he deliberately wanted to look silly in the first pics

NixandaSalesRep:
Good day everyone,
I can see this issue is getting out of hand so I will like to put an end to it if possible. First of all, yes i had monikers I have created in the past which were for business purposes and not scam. Barnix, NixonBlast were among but if you observe they were never used to comment on my new thread for my bale business. All thesame, I apologise for making this escalate to this level and as for the Ladyinred who bought from me and said she didnt like her bale, please dont be offended and I promise to do something about it.
I want everyone to know that I do not have any intention to scam or steal from anybody. I am a marketer who takes advantage of any marketing opportunity that comes my way and as long as its a genuine product, I am ready to market it.
Please everyone who has lost trust and confidence in me as regards this business, I apologise from the dept of my heart and truthfully assure you all that I will ensure you get exartly what you ordered without any mistake again.
Thank you.

Then u use Debarrister, Contactohimai and co to insult a customer, calling her a hater or u want to deny the monikers too.
You read in the uk, u are a barrister and now a markerter

You better address Ladyinred case now before the ones you scammed before speaks up and put an end to this your marketing carrier.

kachnov didnt eventually marry zaragirl

Not the same person except he purposely wanted to look silly in d first pics

Nobody is saying you scammed her
But using alternative moniker to say things that aren't true is a no no. Even hiding under it to insult a customer and acting all holy with the other
You will omly kill your business

God help us o
Dbarrister.....Contactohimai...Banix...Smartcomm...smartchoice
Jack of all trade

God is watching you.

Any customer that complains is tagged hater

I have been watching you all
when casala burst only the same group will come here to insult or probably keep quite to avoid suspicion
Your cups will full someday

Ladyinred thanks you for making me change my mind. I almost got carried away by the band beaters here.

When he talks too much....

Must have toasted the entire forumite
We know them

We pardoned your gbaguns
Becos you shared an inspiring story
Am surprised our English teachers pardoned you.


HopeforNaija#

Ladyinred
Pls share photo of cloths in your bale pls

I saw that countless times as a kid though not bj shaa
I only took it as a dad and mum thing and a no go area until married.

I cant say for the sharp kids of nowadays

phyno should take it easy with the weed.
Or get a wife and add some flesh.
He will soon turn to a walking skeleton

A comprehensive med checkup will restore her

ekolina: My dear u r full of hypocrisy, after applying for a job and undergone its recruitment process u r now asking if u should accept the offer or not. didn't u kwn wat dey do b4 applying or were u giving the job on a platter of gold?

There are times situation makes you take steps you turn back to regret. The title explains my situation.

MoyoGENERAL
Thank you for the input. The truth is that I have never been as confused as this before regarding what I want for myself.
From the application of this particular job to this point, every stage has been a miracle, I can't even believe I got the offer.

One part of me is saying its a test while the other is saying God wants to connect me or possibly change something through my inclusion.

MsSteph: e be like say you never say for house tire.

one yr plus never reach?