₦airaland Forum

funkybully:
Is this v6? I have 500k ready for transaction

Nope. It is V4.

More

I am selling my Toyota Camry (Tiny Light) for 580k.

The car is in Ilorin. You can come check with your mechanic.

Features:
Power window
Ac chilling
Automatic transmission
Auto drive
Alloy Wheels
Buy and drive.

I am selling this as I want to upgrade.

price: 580k, slightly negotiable.

contact me on 08032408367, whatsapp is 08052273282

Sold to a great nairalander who came, inspected and sealed the deal.

Edited ; I am selling my Toyota Camry (Tiny Light) for 420k.

The car is in Ilorin. You can come check with your mechanic.

Features:
Power window
Ac chilling
Automatic transmission
Auto drive
Alloy Wheels
Buy and drive.

I am selling this as I want to upgrade.

Price reduced to 420k.

contact me on 08032408367, whatsapp is 08052273282

LockDown69:
OP What's dangerous about the pics?

Sorry the pics didnt show the danger, but am sure if you read the long "epistle" you will.

Some people still live their lives like everyday might be their last and we take each day for granted down here in the south.

When last have you had to wonder if the young lady sitting beside you in a bus might just be a suiside bomber?
Lets pray for Peace all over Nigeria and support our gallant men of the armed forces.

We need more selfless Nigerians.

Sabrwahaqqo:
This young risking? Wow! Give him an OON title abeg!

He is surely a true Nigerian. May God raise many more like him amoungst us.

I am already planning on what I can do to change in my little corner.

ishiamu:

No be me o. It will be quite unfortunate if this thread dosent make front page just because this patriotic Nigerian is not a Nairalander.

I didnt claim I was the one and I stated that riht from the first line. This guy is my friend on facebook.

I just want to share his story with fellow nairalanders.

Young03:
Is dat all?

That's not all, Please feel free to follow him on facebook.

His latest post.-

Symbolic!
On hearing that I'm in town, Abu Gambo reached my brothers; Jack Vince and Elijah Offiong, and asked that we wait where we were as he's on his way to come pick us to have some Maiduguri Suya and fresh banana juice.
Here we are! And yes, this Suya joint is a few meters away from the junction where a bomb went off last night. We remain strong! For Maiduguri! For peace! For Nigeria's unity!
Jack (North-Central), Elijah (South-South), Abu (North-East), Femi (South-West)

Continued.....[i][/i]

This morning, I wake in Damaturu, Yobe State. Exgee and I share the same bed. I couldn't sleep until 3am, held by worries. Exgee tells me many things that get me worried.

Last night, when we had to stop at the Yobe Line Terminus because it was late and unsafe to go on to Maiduguri, the driver told me to return the next morning as early as 5:30am. Road opens by 6am, he said. I left the two Ghana-Must-Go bags-- containing the relief materials I'm taking to the IDPs camps in Maiduguri-- inside the bus, and left with Exgee.

5:47am, we are dressed up. Thanks so much, I say, opening my arms to hug Exgee. Oh, c'mon Femi, we are brothers, Exgee says, slapping me gently on the back. We walk out of the Guest House, to the street, hoping for a keke. And soon, we see one coming from afar.

We hop in, and head straight to the Terminus. We ride past the Damaturu Police A-Division. Look at that, Exgee points me at the gate and fence of the Police Station; the hundreds of holes that bullets had left on the fance and gate. Christ! I scream. Hahaha, Exgee laughs. BokoHaram wants too take over all of Damaturu. Even the Governor's Office, he says.


We arive at Yobe Line Terminus. The driver just left for Maiduguri, we are told. Ha, with my loads?! I scream. Relax, Exgee says. He starts to speak with the men in Hausa. Many times, pointing at me, I hear him refer to me as 'Aboki.' You will have to join another bus, he tells me. And when you get to the Bornu Express Park in Maiduguri, ask for Yobe Line's Chairman. They will get the loads for you. He holds my hand, and walks me to a bus, loading Maiduguri passengers. I peep into the bus. Women. All of them veiled. What if one of these veiled women has some bomb underneath, as recent news as revealed the case to be? The crazy thought comes. I shrug it off. There are only two more seats vacant. N400, the man standing by the steering says. You have cash on you? Exgee asks, reaching for his pocket. I restrain him. This poorly-paid soldier cares so much about me. I hug him. And, I hug him again.

Soon, a young boy, hops in, and sits besides me. And to Maiduguri, we zoom.

My heart is beating faster. We are on that dangerous Damaturu-Maiduguri Road. The boy and I are sitting by the door. We will be the first to get hit by bullets, should BokoHaram attack us, I imagine. We bid Yobe farewell at a village called Wasala. When we approach a Checking Point, somewhere by a local water-melon market, the soldier tells all of us to come down. While we are coming out one after the other, one of the veiled women, coming down, holds a stainless-steel flask. Hold it! The soldiers scream, cocking his gun. Cooler sa abinchi, cooler sa abinchi, the woman cries out. And the soldiers brings down the muzzle of his riffle. And you, pointing at me, what's inside the bag on your back? He asks, frowning. A few cloths and a book, sir, I say, flashing him a smile. We are, then, all ask to walk down, to the other side to meet the driver who will slowly drive through the barricades. Almost 1km distance. As we walk, I look left and right; bushes everywhere. What if these terrorists appear from this bush, outpower the soldiers? Oh, I will escape through... oh, I will climb that tree and hide in the leaves... oh, I will hide behind this military tank...The thoughts flow.

We continue with the journey, stopping at every Checking Point. The boy and I are already talking, he does not grab most of the things I say in English. Is Maiduguri still far? I ask him. He looks at me, and smiles. Son, is Maiduguri still far?! I ask again. He looks at me, and waves. I do not get it. I attempt to pick some Hausa words and get him to my question. He starts to speak in Hausa, the one I don't understand. I nod, as though I get it. He talks on. I nod on. The only thing I could pick is 'Maiduguri.'

At a point, we start to understand each other; I break my English words into the very simplest form and I gesture along. He tells he his name, Isa Bunu Maryam. He should be 14 or 15. He has been out of school since BokoHaram continually attacked Gwoza village where he lived and schooled. I lost my father in one of the attacks, he says. My heart bounces against my ribs. He says he came to see his brother in Damaturu, and he's returning to Maiduguri. He asks what my name is. I smile. Sanni, I say. Sanni Lagos. Sanni Lagos? Yes, I nod. Allahuakbar, he says, feeling excited. Things will be fine, I tell him, patting his shoulder. I use to know Gwoza, when Mobile-Policemen in Ilorin return from a training there, and they proudly bounce around town wearing a t-shirt with this printed at the back; I am a gallant mopol! I've been to Gwoza Hills!

Let us be saying Asibunalahhi walein... Isa tells me, suddenly. We are approaching Benisheik, he says. My heart almost drop into my stomach. BokoHaram terrorists are always here, he says, his voice, fainting. The night, Exgee has told me about Benisheik, the exchange of bullets they regularly have with the terrorists here. I join Isa, and we silently chant Asibunalahhi, albeit, I chant mine in the biblicall way; Our Father Who Hath In Heaven...

We are stopped, again, at a Checking Point in Jumtulu, a few kilometres to Benisheik. Like we've done, we come out of the bus, walk over to other side of the military barricades to meet the bus. This time, however, as we walk past, we are ordered to pull up our shirts|kaftans up to the chest. The veiled women, their hijab. Holding my t-shirt to my chest, as I walk past the many muzzles standing in opposite direction to my head, a soldier moves near me. Stop, he says. Identify yourself. I want to reach for my pocket. Don't! He screams. I shiver. My passport, sir, inside my pocket. He looks at me. He looks at me again. Move, he says. Thank you, sir. Welcome, sir. I mean, welldone, sir.


We arrive Maiduguri. My friend, a military personal, has been waiting at Bornu Express to pick me up. I hug Isa. I bring out N500 from my pocket and stretched my hand at him. No, Aji Sanni, he says, smiling and shaking his head. Use it for lunch, son, I say, squeezing it in his hand. He thanks me. My friend and I go to get the Ghana-Must-Go bags and we zoom of.

I am entering into the place I'm to stay for a while, and a message drops into my phone. A bomb went off in Damaturu just immediately you left, the message reads. I am speechless.

And now, the news is that, the Damaturu bomb went off at the exact Park where we left for Maiduguri this morning. I call Exgee who is in Damaturu. You are lucky, he says, in a depressed tone. You would have been totally stranded in Damaturu, that is even if you weren't bombed.

Traumatized. Psychologically.

more pictures.

Here is a True Nigerian who believes the Bokoharam problem is not just a northern problem, but a Nigerian Problem. He has also refused to just make noise about it on social media, but to also risk his life and be of help.
We need more patriotic Nigerians like Femi.[/b]

Please pray for him and encourage him on his facebook page as we pray for his safe return.
God bless Nigeria.

cc: lalasticlala, Seun. Please lets make this public.

Femi Owolabi is a Facebook friend, a freelance journalist who could also pass as an activist. He is presently in Maiduguri on a self sent mission to present relief materials to the internally displaced persons at the various camps. He narrowly escaped the motor park bomb blast that rocked Damaturu recently. Below are his real life experience as posted on his Facebook page. Please follow him for more updates as we all pray for a quick end to this bokoharam menace.

https://www.facebook.com/femi.o.success?fref=nf

4pm, yesterday.
We stop at Potiskum for one of the passengers to alight.
Is this driver moving fast? Jash asks me. I nod. The most dangerous part on this road is Damaturu-Maiduguri, she says. A long drive through some very thick bushes. You watch it, when the driver gets there, he will move much more faster. That's the point BokoHaram had always launched attack on this road. I shiver, a little.

Almost two hours, driving through Potiskum, I notice Jash. She looks worried. We may not get to Maiduguri today, she says. When it's 6pm and we are not close to Maiduguri, we will have to stop in Damaturu, pass the night, and continue the journey tomorrow. Damaturu? No plan to stay in Damaturu, I say. When I mean no plan, the little budget I'm moving with does not cover hotel and other expenses in Damaturu. I am going to come down in Damaturu, Jash says. I can't risk it. I shiver, a little.

Her phone rings. It's her mum. She is calling to tell her that she should stop in Damaturu, and sleep over at a relative's. Soon, my friend, who is awaiting my arrival in Maiduguri calls me. Are you in Maiduguri, he asks? Heading Damaturu, just leaving potiskum, I tell him. Ha! His voice rises almost to a scream. You can't get to Maiduguri today if by this time you're still where you mentioned. Because when it's 7pm, the road is closed. Even if the driver insists on moving on to Maiduguri, please step out of the bus when you get to Damaturu. As soon as he drops the call, another friend, a military personnel, who has offered to pick me at the City Gate in Maiduguri calls me. Oh, please sleep in Damaturu, you can't make Maiduguri today again, he says as I tell him we are yet to reach Damaturu at 6:05pm.
I lower my head, a bit worried.

7:06pm, we zoom into Damaturu. The driver veers into a large yard, Yobe Line Terminus. We meet many other buses already parked in the yard. The driver turns off the engine, jumps down and walks off. I help Jash with her luggage out of the bus. We stand in front of the bus, waiting for her relative who's on her way to pick her.
How do I get to any hotel here? I ask Jash. She does not really know. Commercial vehicles, kekes and bikes are off road when it's 6pm in Damaturu. But I will ask my relative when she arrives, she tells me.

Soon, a guy, tall, heavy-chested, walks in our direction, the light of the large-screen phone in his palm luminates his face-- dark and not too friendly. He had sit on the row in front of us through the journey from Abuja. We figured he's an officer when, at every chekingpoint-- from Bauchi-- he made signals to the soldiers, and in return, they hail him and beckon us to move on.
[b]Officer officer, Jash, smiling, flags her hand across his face. He stops, and he smiles back.
Are you serving here? I ask, stretching my hand at him, for a handshake. Yes, he nods. His phone rings, he picks and tells the guy at the other end to come pick him, that he just arrived.
Seems you've been away for a long time? I ask. Yes, he smiles. I went for treatment. Were you shot, are you one of the combatants fighting BokoHaram? I ask. He smiles. Give me your hand, he says. He picks my index finger, pulls his t-shirt up a bit, and puts my finger somewhere below his chest. I feel it; hollow, hard, roughened skin. Four bullets entered through that place, he says. I, abruptly, withdraw my finger. [/b]While we drove past a checking-point in a village a Corpa's Lodge-signboard calls Ngelzama, I saw what now remains of the attacked Corpa's Lodge, and I screamed, calling Jash's attention to it. The building was burnt from the first block to the last. Only the signboard survived, and still stands there.
You see that place that made you screamed that time? That was where the attack started, and down to Benisheik. I was shot. Many soldiers died. Many soldiers. I will never forget that day, December 1. I am a gunner. I operate an armour tank. I was out-powered by these BokoHaram guys. I, and a few others, narrowly escaped. He brings out his phone, and shows me the picture of his wounds when they were fresh, the holes that bullets had leave on the tank he operates, his friend who died in that battle, and then a truck loaded with lifeless bodies of soldiers.
I shut my eyes! Were these soldiers' family compensated? I ask, with a teary voice. Compensate? Some of their families don't even know that their husband, son, has been killed in this fight against BokoHaram. Weren't they given state burial? For where?! They just dig a wide grave and pack all of them inside. What?!!! They just die like that?! Why?!

He smiles on, as I rant. My friend, soldiers are the ones used as sacrifice. No one cares. From Abuja, N150,000 monthly allowance is approved for each soldier here in Yobe and Bornu, but how much do we get? Just N30,000. Where's the remaining N120,000. Well, I am a soldier. I will fight on. It is a vow I have made. I was trained as a killer. I was also trained to die. I have embraced death many times.
I am already in tears, how could these soldiers go through all these and yet they are not properly taken care of?

I tell him why I'm going to Maiduguri. I tell him I do not even know how to get an affordable hotel to sleep this night in Damaturu. Oh, that's not to worry, he says. One of my guys should come to pick me, you can join me so we pass the night at his place. I don't want to go to our base, until tomorrow. I have actually overstayed the time I was given. So, even when I show up at the Division tomorrow, I might be dismissed.
But you went to treat yourself! I scream. You don't know how these things work, he tells me, smiling.
It is getting darker. Jash's relative arrives. Jash introduces me as a friend she had met on-board. The relative, kind woman, asks that I join Jash, too, to spend the night at her home, since I know no one in Damaturu. While they move towards the car, I stay with the soldier. My spirit has already allinged with his. Jash returns, and we agree I stay with the soldier. This soldier tells me his full name. For security reasons, however, let us refer to him here as Exgee.

Exgee brings out a packet of cigarette, and offers me a stick. The things wey BokoHaram don this town ehn, he says, puffing hard at his cigarette. There was a time in this town, for about three days, the people you will see on the streets are either BokoHaram members or soldiers. It was an everyday openfire. I can't count the numbers of the terrorists I killed. He says this, with a bit of excitement.
It is getting to 9pm, and the person coming to pick us isn't in sight. He tries calling again. Let's be walking down, he says, patting me on the shoulder.

As we walk abreast each other, he continues to tell me of their many operations; how they flushed BokoHaram members out of some villages, their patrol of Chad and Cameroon boarders. We walk through Bayan Tasha. Everywhere is silent like a mortuary. The streetlights are on and I see New Dubai Market, I see the Izala Mosque and then we turn into a dark narrow path. As we walk though this path, I notice people seated in groups, muttering. I dash my foot against something I couldn't see, and instantly, Exgee grabs me from falling. We come out at Gashua Road, and the streetlights light our path again. A military truckspeeds past, and a soldier on top of it, seeing Exgee, shouts his nickname. I mention not for security reasons. They call me that name because I operate the General Purpose Machine Gun, Exgee tells me, with asense of pride.
We walk on, and come out at Gwange Ward. This place was another base for the terrorists, Exgee tells me, as he shakes his head. Even us soldiers go first run to go re-mobilize.

For a few men in Kaftan that walk past, everywhere is silent that the drop of a pin is audible. We approach a Roundabout, and two boys, armed with sticks, hail Exgee. They are my boys, Exgee tells me. They are members of the Civilian JTF. The two boys join us in the walk.
Maybe this guy can't come again, Exgee says, as he stops, turning at me. If not for you, I would have found my way, he says, resting his heavy hand on my shoulder. Come, let's go use one Guest House.

We walk through a series of dark narrow paths and eventually arrive at the Guest House. I can't see the Street name. And I can't see the Guest House name. No light anywhere in the Guest House. Thorugh the dark corridors, we are led to a room. I ask Exgee to allow me pay, he says no way, he's paying. It's nothing, he says. He asks one of the Civilian JTF boys to go get food for us. I want to give the boy money, and he puts a restraining hand on my hand. It's nothing Femi, haba, he says. You remind me of a former colleague. His name is is Femi. He has left the service, he couldn't cope anymore.

As I tear the loaf, Exgee puffs his cigarette. He promises to take me back to the Terminus early tomorrow to continue my journey. I can't take my bath. We have just one bucket of water and Exgee suggests we reserve it for tomorrow morning.
Sigh. When we scale through that deadly Damaturu-Maiduguri Road, I will return with more stories.

As we relax into the bed, I take a shot of the footwear of a freelance journalist and that of a gallant soldier. The difference is clear?

Op, you get liver ooooo.

But then, shouldn't we preserve animals like these? Am Sure its an endangered specie.

sunnyb0b0:
Stop misinforming people here. The interest rate on treasury bills is annualised.

Sorry, My Bad. Guess I got my calculations wrong.

Drabeey:
What are you talking about? Imagine people saying they can't approach a bank. U are talking about Federal government. mhen that is a legit investment, rather than this cheap scam

And that's why am advising people to rather invest wisely with the Federal Government through the banks than falling for these roadside bizzmen.

Invest this amount in Treasury bills and you could get between 8 - 11% in three months.
And that's secure cash from the FG/CBN.

Am having serious challenge with your network. I have been using this line for the past 6years so i shouldnt have this problem. I loaded on my line since 10:52am this morning 16-08-2015 #3000. I got a message fron 7017 that my line has been credited and that i even got #600 bonus but up till now, i cant make calls on my phone, cant check my account balance and cant even send a text. Each time i want to check my account balance, i get the response Sorry the operation failed. Even trying to send sms to toll free glo code isnt going through. I called customer care on 124 and one dolapo lady asked me to call interswitch on one number that is not even up to 11 digits but 10 and tell them my complain. I asked to speak with her supervisor but the lekan guy just ended the call on me. Am seriously agrieved because this single act from glo has made alot of impact in my business. to go all out on this. I need a logical solution to this.

It seems Wike has finally decided to work and stop witch-hunting Amaechi.

Good move on his part. The people of Rivers can now start enjoying the dividends of democracy under his administration.

In his reaction, Afolayan, commended the unique steps taken by Air France to get him on board, what it portends for the Nigerian movie industry vis-a-vis the challenges confronting the practitioners.“I remember in 2009 when we wanted to shoot The Figurine, we approached quite a number of Airlines because there were parts to be shot in Germany and we tried to see how to make that happen but again we had to change the script because we couldn’t make it happen.Afolayan spotting a bespoke Navy Blue double-breasted suit on a blue and white striped shirt featuring a red pocket square, recalled  with nostalgia how the journey started.“This journey started in Paris some weeks ago and the very moment they engaged me, I just started talking about my passion and  because they were part of the  festival in Paris where I met with the Vice President of Air France, Africa. I was just talking continuously about films and what we can do together. When I got  back to Lagos, someone called and said let’s have a chat and there was a bond.

At the press parley, he shared a unique experience with the airline before talks on the deal began.”Air France did something quite overwhelming for me. I was meant to go to Los Angeles and those who invited me provided an Economic Class ticket. I tried everything possible to upgrade that ticket, you know how it is with celebrity status but I couldn’t afford to, because it was quite expensive. And as I was making enquiries, I got a call from Air France that they were willing to upgrade me all the way to Los Angeles.

Source:- http://e247mag.com/like-kevin-costner-like-kunle-afolayan-nigerias-film-poster-boy-unveiled-as-air-france-ambassador/


Like Kevin Costner, Nigeria’s award winning actor and director, Kunle Afolayan  may bump into you on your next flight.  Kunle Afolayan on Wednesday signed a major deal with one of Europe’s best airline, Air France,  as an ambassador.  

Afolayan,  already in the works for his next pan-African cast movie, The CEO, signed the international brand endorsement deal yesterday at the Lagos, Nigeria’s office of Air France, witnessed by top executives of the airline, notable names in Nollywood and the media , writes BIODUN KUPOLUYI.Speaking at the historic event, the General Manager of Air France, Jean-Raoul Tauzin, said the decision to bring Afolayan on board of Air France as an ambassador was borne out of their decision to forge  a partnership with the creative industry in Nigeria and connect Nollywood to abundance of opportunities globally.“If you are familiar with the Air France environment, we have been in Nigeria since 1946, serving the country, serving its citizens, and we are very pleased that we have someone very famous and international to represent our brand.

As you may know, Air France has been sponsoring the Cannes International Film Festival since 1980 and we are very proud to be a partner of the Festival de Cannes to develop the industry of entertainment and art in France. Therefore,  we are very convinced that with the help of Kunle Afolayan, we will be able also to develop as much as we can, a partnership between Air France and Nollywood in Nigeria, Tauzin said.

Cc. Lalasticlala Ishilove

Wonderful!
Now the Jews can get to tie this around their foreheads and carry it around.

But this is too small to read o. Eyes go just explode.

Onozztins:
Dear husband!Locate me by fire by force eh

Amen to your prayer o.

Just keep equiping yourself to be the best wife and mother as you await him.

Funny

Starships4u:
I need MALIA's contacts....

You can ask her father directly on Twitter. His handle is @Potus. If FBI trace you sha, I no dey there oooooo. #askpotus

More random pictures.

More pictures

More
1. July 4th parade in Aspen, Colorado. Even that the WWII veterans Showed up.
2. Photo by @jonathankingston
Keeping with tradition, kids and their furry friends march at the Pet Parade on 4th of July. Since the early 1930’s, Bend, OR has celebrated Independence Day with furry, feathered and scaly friends parading through town, and is now an Oregon Heritage Tradition. The Pet Parade draws more than 8,000 spectators and participants and is Central Oregon’s largest parade.
3.Photograph @massimobassano
4. President Obama and the First Lady greet military families watching Bruno Mars perform before the fireworks. Photo by Pete Souza- the official White House photographer.

Yesterday was 4th of July - America's Independence Day.
It was celebrated all over the Nation with parades, Live Band performances and Fireworks. Here are some pictures. Enjoy

Happy 4th of July America.
1. President Obama, with family and friends, watches the fireworks from the Truman Balcony of the White House.
2. President Obama and daughter Malia watch fireworks from the Truman Balcony of the White House. July 4 is also Malia's birthday.
3. President Obama and Michelle Obama.
4. July 4th parade in Aspen, Colorado.

Cc lalasticlala, rocktation

yettybaby112:
Congrats OP, your wife is beautiful. what tribe is she from?

Thanks Yettybaby. My wife is Yoruba. Same tribe as myself.

Greatidonis:
Congrats man, lovely pictures and nicely put together event knowing that you did not use a planner is another plus man. You both look so so good together. Pls here comes my question, how were you able to do all the same day how did it go as I'm also getting married in a couple of months time and thought about that but felt it's almost impossible. Wishing you a HML

Thanks Bros.

Doing everything the same day is stressful. But we had no choice because my wife's Church had two weddings that day. The first wedding was from 9 am -11:30 am and ours started by 12 noon. So we decided it will be nice to have the traditional wedding in the morning by 8:00 am.

Here is a timeline of how the events went.

8:00 am - 10:30 am - Traditional wedding (Engagement)
12 noon - 2:00 pm - Church Service
2:30 pm - 4:00 pm - Reception

If you take a good look at the pictures, you will notice we used the same hall for the engagement and the reception. This helped reduce cost in terms of venue cos we paid for only one day. If you will do this, please inform the owner of the hall/management of your plans. Some halls will not allow this and will want to charge you extra.

Am available for more clarification.

MISSCONGENIALITY:
Congratulations.

But I didn't not put the pix where they say: U MAY KISS UR Bride. I love that part in weddings.

Hmmmmmm. seems the camera man missed that point.
Well, I might get a screen shot from the video and send to you only.