Sam8891's Posts
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Dogalmighty17:spot on! |
Runaway22:I am not sure what you mean by this comment. |
Why "farmers-herders conflict" is a deliberate misdirection — the 300-year history they don't want you to understand I am going to lay this out as clearly as I can. Not with emotion. With documented history. By the time you finish reading, I want you to be able to connect every dot yourself. POINT 1 — This is not new The Fulani theocratic expansion in West Africa began in 1690 with the Imamate of Bundu. By 1725, the Imamate of Futa Jallon had been established in Guinea after a 25-year war against the indigenous Jallonke people. By 1776, Futa Toro followed. By 1804, Usman dan Fodio had launched the most consequential jihad in African history, creating the Sokoto Caliphate — the largest state south of the Sahara — after just four years of military campaign. The pattern in every case: frame the existing rulers as insufficiently Islamic, mobilise Fulani pastoral communities whose economic grievances give the theological argument a base, overthrow the dynasty, install sharia governance, enslave or displace the non-Muslim indigenous peoples. POINT 2 — The peoples who resisted The Middle Belt communities — Berom, Tiv, Jukun, Tarok, Birom, Ngas, Chamba, Mumuye, Gbagyi and dozens of others — could not be absorbed. They retreated to defensible highlands. They were raided for slaves for the caliphate's entire century-long existence. The caliphate's economy was structurally dependent on enslaving them. The Kanem-Bornu Empire (modern Borno State) repelled the Fulani jihad entirely between 1808 and 1812. Its leader, Sheikh al-Kanemi, defeated both the military campaign and the theological justification for it in a famous exchange of letters with dan Fodio's lieutenants. The Yoruba states held their southern frontier, though not before the Fulani took Ilorin (1817), collapsed the Oyo Empire, and triggered decades of Yoruba civil war. POINT 3 — The colonial crime When the British defeated the Sokoto Caliphate militarily in 1903, they did not dismantle it. Under "Indirect Rule," they preserved the entire administrative structure — sultans, emirs, sharia courts, tribute systems — and used it to govern northern Nigeria. The peoples of the Middle Belt who had fought this system for a century were now legally subject to it under British authority. This has been documented as "colonialism within colonialism." At independence in 1960, Nigeria inherited this asymmetry intact. The Fulani-Hausa political class retained disproportionate control over federal governance, the military, and traditional authority structures. It has never been structurally reversed. POINT 4 — What is happening NOW and WHY Nigeria's Middle Belt: Systematic night attacks on Berom, Tiv, Jukun communities. Crops burned post-harvest (not a grazing tactic, a territorial one). Churches targeted. Consistent southward and eastward geographic pressure. MSF: 160,000+ IDPs in Benue State alone. Genocide Watch: Nigeria at severe atrocity risk. Prosecutions: near zero. The Sahel (Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger): The Macina Liberation Front, founded in 2015 in the Mopti region of Mali, is named after the 19th-century Fulani Caliphate of Macina (Hamdullahi) destroyed in 1862. Its founder Amadou Koufa operates in the exact territory where that caliphate stood. JNIM (of which FLM is the core) now conducts operations reaching Benin, Togo, and Côte d'Ivoire. September 2024: they attacked Bamako and set the presidential plane on fire. Boko Haram / ISWAP: Founded in Maiduguri, Borno, the capital of the one empire that defeated the Sokoto Caliphate. Its founding documents explicitly identify it as the successor to the dan Fodio tradition. POINT 5 — The revenge-reprisal engine (the most important mechanism) State security forces respond to jihadist attacks with collective punishment of Fulani communities. Anti-Fulani ethnic militias are armed by governments. ACLED data: over half of civilians killed by state forces or militias in the 2022 Sahel were Fulani. Koufa's recruiters use these documented atrocities to recruit survivors. Every indiscriminate state massacre is a jihadist recruitment event. The organisations understand this and deliberately provoke it. POINT 6 — The slave-caste recruitment pipeline The Rimaibé are the slave-descendant communities within Fulani society, descendants of the Bambara, Bozo, Dogon, Jallonke peoples conquered by the original Fulani theocratic states. They share Fulani language and surnames but occupy a permanent lower caste. Research confirms Koufa specifically targeted Rimaibé communities. The earliest FLM fighters were disproportionately Rimaibé. The foot soldiers of Sahel jihadism are, in significant part, descended from peoples the Fulani caliphates enslaved. The movement promises them liberation, while reviving the ideology of the states that enslaved their ancestors. CONCLUSION Every time you read "farmers-herders conflict," ask: which farmers? Which herders? In which specific villages? Following which geographic pattern? With which political response? And why does the geographic pattern of the attacks so precisely map onto the regions where Fulani theocratic expansion was historically incomplete or blocked? This is not a resource conflict. It is a documented, historically continuous, ideologically explicit campaign, now integrated into the global jihadist network for weapons and funding, targeting precisely the communities that refused conquest three centuries ago. Read. Share. Discuss. Sources available on request. Primary research: Paul E. Lovejoy (Cambridge University Press); Moses Ochonu, African Studies Quarterly 2008; ICG Sahel Reports 2010–2024; Africa Centre for Strategic Studies 2020–2025; ACLED 2022–2024; MSF Nigeria 2020; Genocide Watch 2021. |
Something made me laugh today. Not a joke exactly, but a passage from Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart. There's a particular kind of revelation that comes when a book you've read suddenly connects with something real in your life. It hits differently. In Igbo cosmology, the python is a sacred creature. Interestingly, in my village in Etsako, we share that same reverence. We call it úwhe or Akuye, and there is a firm prohibition — you do not kill it, you do not strike it. Finding that same sacred weight carried by a different people, with different names, across different traditions, is one of those quiet reminders that we are more connected than we often realise. In Achebe's book, when the Christian missionaries arrived, the community tolerated the converts, even the more zealous ones, because they were still seen as kinsmen. Then one convert did the unthinkable: he killed the royal python, which Achebe describes as the most revered animal in Mbanta and all the surrounding clans. The community was stunned. So unprecedented was the act that, as Achebe writes, no punishment had ever been prescribed for it. Nobody thought that such a thing could ever happen. The elders assembled. Okonkwo was furious and called for the converts to be chased out with whips. But a wiser voice prevailed: "It is not our custom to fight for our gods. Let us not presume to do so now. If a man kills the sacred python in the secrecy of his hut, the matter lies between him and the god. We did not see it. If we put ourselves between the god and his victim we may receive blows intended for the offender. When a man blasphemes, what do we do? Do we go and stop his mouth? No. We put our fingers into our ears to stop us hearing. That is a wise action." That made me laugh. Not because it was absurd, but because it was so measured. So human. So tolerant. Today, things feel different. The religion many of us have accepted arrived with a certainty that left little room for that kind of wisdom. It is either militant in its expression, or quietly dismissive of everything that came before it. For traditions that once asked "who are we to fight the gods' battles?" that is quite a hard reset. I just wanted to share that thought, and perhaps leave a gentle reminder: be tolerant. Of each other's views, beliefs, customs, and faiths. We have far more to learn from one another than we are sometimes willing to admit.
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So lately I was at the British Museum in London. I went to see the Idia Mask, and there she was, in all her glory, staring back at me alongside other stolen artifacts looted from the great Benin Kingdom. I stood there and watched people from around the world look in amazement as a British historian told our story with a twisted version of history. I remember telling her, “These are my people,” and correcting her where she got it wrong. I asked about the repatriation of these artifacts because their presence there represents a great historical wrong committed by the British Empire. She tried to defend her argument, but her voice slowly faded as I imagined how great my ancestors once were. The Benin Empire was already trading with Europe in the 16th century. We flourished in art, trade, and construction, the great Benin Moat is still a testament to that truth, the largest excavation in the world. It was even said that the Benin Empire had an ambassador in Portugal at that time a reflection of diplomatic ties and strength. Imagine that level of organization in an African kingdom centuries ago. Now look at us. Today we have been reduced to rubble that can’t even compare to the shadow of our ancestors. Now we argue over who should fix a single road, whether it’s the state or the federal government. Once, we built moats that circled kingdoms. Now, we can’t even build drains that last one rainy season. The Benin Empire was once the pride of Africa. Now the stories you hear about us are yahoo yahoo boys, Upper boys and Ekosodi boy, Tony Kabaka, and small-time politics that breed poverty and thuggery. I sighed as the historian mentioned the new Museum of West African Art (MOWAA) and how some of the artifacts will be loaned for exhibition. I told her yes, I’ve heard of it, and it gave me a little hope that our people would at least get to see some of those works again. But then I saw the news today, Edo youths protesting against MOWAA, and I was shocked. I was disappointed. Like I was ashamed. Ashamed that the same people whose ancestors conquered lands and built empires are now protesting against their own heritage over petty politics. I honestly couldn’t believe it. How did we get here? What happened to us? Are we not ready for development? Go online and look at the Bight of Benin, the sea was named after our empire. The Bight of Benin was named to honor a civilization that once commanded respect across the Gulf of Guinea. Today, that same land has been reduced to Aduwawa, Airport Road, Uselu, Uniben Main gate and Government House Lol its funny but its true. To the Edo State Governor... MOWAA must not die. That museum is not just a building; it’s a symbol of who we are and what we once were. It’s where our children will go to see our greatness, not just hear it in stories. If you truly care about legacy, protect it. If you want to build, build another museum, build ten more, build one in every local government. It can never be too many, Build Theaters, build Libraries, but don’t destroy this one. History will not remember how many roads you patched or how many roundabouts you commissioned. It will remember whether you stood to preserve our culture or bury it under petty politics. I have nothing more to say. Maybe empires do rise and fall, and maybe ours has finally fallen, not because it was conquered, but because its children have forgotten what it means to be great.
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As a Nigerian soldier, I find myself trapped between the barrel of an AK47 and the empty promises of leaders who draw fat paychecks for doing nothing but breathing. I earn barely ₦100,000 a month, an amount that does not cover basic rent or transportation to remote forward bases, while senators pull in over ₦1,063,860 every month in salary and allowances with zero exposure to roadside bombs or midnight ambushes. We risk life and limb confronting insurgents and bandits who carve their names into the bodies of villagers, yet our commanders seem more intent on protecting political patrons than protecting us. In the first quarter of 2025 alone, at least 1,420 Nigerians were murdered and 537 kidnapped, a horror show that should have jolted any responsible government into radical action. March by itself claimed 363 lives and saw 101 abductions as villages were pounded by gunfire amid deafening silence from Abuja. Just last week in Zamfara, bandits attacked Galadi community, injuring two and abducting several more, leaving fields stained with blood while troops waited for orders that never came. In Borno State, Governor Babagana Zulum warns that Boko Haram is resurging, striking military outposts and slaughtering civilians as if our fifteenyear effort against them were a cruel joke. Even Maiduguri, the birthplace of the insurgency, trembles under renewed jihadist raids, a chilling sign that complacency has become our deadliest enemy. Meanwhile, 33 million Nigerians face acute food insecurity this year, driven by soaring inflation, climate shocks, and endless violence. Yet our leaders debate mileage allowances and per diem rates as if feeding a hungry nation is not their top priority. President Tinubu spent nineteen days touring Europe while rural Nigeria bled, returning refreshed as if the mounting body count were merely background noise. Our so called democratic institutions offer no refuge. The National Assembly has become a rubber stamp, approving every presidential demand without scrutiny or dissent, and our courts demand payoffs before even considering justice. Forty nine percent of court users admit paying or sorting officials, and nearly two thirds view judicial corruption as routine. Inside the barracks, morale crumbles under the weight of corruption and neglect. Senior generals dine with governors and power brokers, while frontline units beg for fuel, flak jackets, and overdue allowances. Junior officers whisper of mutiny as they watch their comrades fall victim to poor planning and patronage. Across the Sahel, soldiers have already answered this betrayal with bullets. In Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, coups have toppled regimes blamed for failing to shield civilians from jihadist massacres. In January 2022, Burkina Faso’s army deposed President Roch Marc Christian Kaboré after he proved incapable of controlling Islamist militants, only to see the insurgents tighten their grip on the countryside. These events should be warnings rather than blueprints, but when governance collapses, history shows militaries feel compelled to step in. We swore an oath to defend Nigeria and its people, not to salute empty uniforms or rubber stamp decrees. If history teaches anything, it is that once soldiers lose faith in civilian leadership, the last barrier to chaos crumbles. It falls on honest officers to demand accountability, to refuse orders that betray our mission, and to ensure the military remains a shield for citizens, not a vest for the corrupt. Only by reclaiming our integrity and unity can we pull this country back from the brink. |
The gruesome mob killing of travelers in Uromi, Edo State, on March 27, 2025, has reignited debates about Nigeria’s deepening crisis of jungle justice—a practice where communities take the law into their own hands, often with fatal consequences. The victims, identified as hunters traveling through the region, were allegedly set ablaze by vigilante groups who suspected them of criminal intent . This incident, condemned by Edo State Governor Monday Okpebholo and President Bola Tinubu , underscores systemic failures that perpetuate vigilante violence across Nigeria. Root Causes of Vigilantism Illiteracy and limited access to education foster a culture of misinformation and impulsive decision-making. In Uromi, locals reportedly acted on unverified suspicions, reflecting a broader societal inability to critically assess situations before resorting to violence . Without education, communities often rely on hearsay or stereotypes—such as labeling strangers as “criminals”—to justify mob action. Poverty exacerbates insecurity, pushing marginalized groups to embrace vigilante justice as a survival tactic. In Edo State, where unemployment rates are high, vigilante groups have emerged along highways to “protect” communities from perceived threats . Economic hardship also fuels crime, creating a vicious cycle where fear of victimization drives preemptive violence against outsiders . Nigerians’ lack of faith in the police and judicial systems is a key driver of jungle justice. In Uromi, locals bypassed formal channels, opting instead for instant “justice” . This distrust stems from years of police corruption, delayed investigations, and judicial inefficiency. When authorities fail to prosecute criminals, communities conclude that self-help is the only recourse . Underfunded and understaffed police forces struggle to respond to crimes, especially in rural areas like Uromi. The absence of effective patrols or emergency response systems leaves residents feeling vulnerable, prompting them to form vigilante groups . Governor Okpebholo’s ordered probe into the killings highlights systemic gaps in policing that enable mob violence . Ethnic Retaliation and Community Dynamics The Uromi incident also reflects tensions between indigenes and outsiders. The victims, described as “traveling hunters,” were likely perceived as non-indigenes, triggering suspicion and hostility . In Nigeria, ethnic mistrust often escalates into violence, with communities stereotyping outsiders as criminals or threats to local resources. This “us vs. them” mentality, coupled with historical grievances, fuels retaliatory attacks . The Aftermath and Calls for Reform While Governor Okpebholo and President Tinubu have condemned the killings and pledged investigations , such measures are reactive and insufficient. Experts argue that lasting solutions require addressing root causes: Education and Sensitization: Public campaigns to discourage mob justice and promote legal literacy. Economic Empowerment: Job creation and poverty alleviation programs to reduce crime and desperation. Police Reform: Improved funding, training, and accountability to restore public trust. Community Policing: Collaborative security models that integrate local leaders into crime prevention . The Uromi tragedy is a microcosm of Nigeria’s systemic failures. Jungle justice thrives where governance is weak, poverty is rampant, and trust in institutions is eroded. Without holistic reforms, vigilante violence will persist, further destabilizing communities. As Nigeria grapples with this crisis, the Uromi killings must serve as a wake-up call for urgent action—before more lives are lost to the flames of mob rule. |
rightly said. floss: |
Odetokun3:It's confirmed |
Hushpuppy, from the depths of a U.S. prison cell, has offered heartfelt advice for Nigerian youths facing immense pressure in today's fast-paced world. His message? Stay true to yourself, run your own race, and don’t be swayed by the need to impress others. Here's what he had to say: "You know the other day somebody ask me wetin be the best advice I fit give people out there and I tell am say: Una o, make everybody run their race in their own pace o. Everybody destination dey different and finish line no Dey for this life. Anytime you reach your own point of celebration, you go collect your own congratulations. So Abeg no try to please street and online pedestrian o. Street no get memory and pedestrians Dey move on. Do your best at all times and do it for yourself men. I see say pressure to do unboxing videos wan kill a lot of people. Abeg take am easy on yourself. Go work hard, Abeg life is too short. I knw say a lot of una don miss me. Me sef miss una o my people. I know say e no easy out there. Everybody Dey find wetin dem go chop. But along the way make una no find wetin go chop una o. Do your thing. It will inspire some and it will annoy some. But do it anyways.” Hushpuppy’s message is an eye-opener, not just for those who may consider fraud, but also for young women thinking about prostitution as an option to escape financial hardship. The pressures are real. It’s tough when you’re struggling and social media makes it seem like everyone is living lavishly—but at what cost? The reality, as Hushpuppy points out, is that the street doesn’t care. Today’s applause can quickly turn into tomorrow’s downfall, and those who celebrated you when you were flashing wealth will forget you the minute it all comes crashing down. The consequences of shortcuts, whether it's yahoo yahoo or prostitution, are devastating. There are Nigerians behind bars who aren’t coming back. For every quick buck, there’s a long-lasting price to pay. It's easy to look for an escape when the country is hard—jobs are scarce, and many feel like there’s no other way out. But ask yourself, is it worth it? Is a temporary solution worth the lifetime of regret? Whether it's fraud or prostitution, the consequences are real, and they’re waiting just around the corner. Don’t let desperation push you into choices that will destroy your future. There’s dignity in working hard, even when it feels like it’s taking forever. Build something that lasts. The world moves on quickly, but your life and the choices you make stay with you. Don’t find yourself in a situation you can’t come back from. Hushpuppy’s fall should be a warning: nothing worth having comes easy, and quick paths often lead to dark ends. Stay focused. Stay patient. And don’t let short-term pressure rob you of your long-term potential. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_bq-Mlwm64?feature=shared Please follow me on Twitter @sam_luna88 |
IFECHIGCON:I'm not even calling out anyone. Lol |
Mediocrity has somehow become the backbone of various aspects of Nigerian life. From the poor infrastructure we complain about daily, to the inadequate governance that seems to recycle the same failed leaders, we find ourselves not only tolerating mediocrity but defending it. This reality is not just frustrating; it’s bewildering. How did we get here, and why does it seem like whenever someone tries to point out what’s wrong, they are attacked by a chorus of defenders who rally around the very system that fails them? Take, for example, a recent post I made on Nairaland https://www.nairaland.com/8227369/edo-governor-elect-case-study-devaluation where I highlighted the issue of poor academic standards in leadership and its impact on the educational system. What followed in the comments was a series of responses that, instead of engaging with the point, sought to defend the very mediocrity I was critiquing. These defenders, rather than challenge the reality of our broken system, insisted that joining the political system as it is—flawed and filled with incompetent individuals—was the only way forward. Why? Because they’ve been conditioned to believe that this is the best we can get. This behavior reminds me of Stockholm syndrome—where captives start to identify with and even defend their captors. Nigerians have been subjected to such poor governance for so long that many have now begun to sympathize with, and even defend, those responsible for their suffering. They’ve been convinced that it’s pointless to expect better or demand excellence. In this mental captivity, they rally around the very mediocrity that is holding them back. Normalizing the Subpar It’s tragic, really. We’ve normalized incompetence to the point where people who should be calling out the failure of leadership instead find themselves justifying it. As I mentioned in my Nairaland post, we can see the impact of this on our educational system, where students witness leaders with questionable academic qualifications being celebrated, while those who worked hard to achieve educational excellence are left questioning the value of their efforts. One commenter even drew a parallel between academic achievement and political relevance, saying that "joining a party is the only way to make things happen." This logic assumes that playing within a broken system is the only viable path, completely ignoring the need to challenge the system itself. It’s like telling someone to keep swimming in a pool filled with sewage because that’s the only pool available. Defending the Captors When you argue with Nigerians about the state of the nation, you’ll often hear them say, "It’s just the way things are," or "Everyone else does it." It’s as if we’ve resigned ourselves to this belief that mediocrity is our only option, and anyone asking for better is out of touch with reality. This is a classic case of Stockholm syndrome—defending those who fail us, simply because we’ve known no better for so long. Instead of recognizing the failures of our leaders and demanding more from them, we instead defend their actions or lack thereof. We defend politicians with subpar qualifications while criticizing those who dare to point out the flaws. We justify the worsening state of the nation as some kind of inevitable reality, rather than the direct result of electing mediocres who couldn’t care less about the future of this country. Poverty and Survival A significant factor here is the poverty and survival mentality that grips the nation. Many Nigerians are so caught up in the struggle to survive that they can’t afford the luxury of thinking about long-term change. So they defend the crumbs handed to them by those in power, hoping for some semblance of relief, even if it means tolerating or defending incompetence. This mentality was reflected in the comments to my post, where people seemed more concerned about "strategically" working within the system than challenging its flaws. But when survival becomes your only concern, progress takes a back seat, and mediocrity continues to reign. Tribalism and Ethnic Loyalty Another layer to this is tribal and ethnic loyalty, which many Nigerians prioritize over merit and competence. In my Nairaland post, I mentioned how, during elections, people often vote based on tribe rather than qualifications. This tribal loyalty leads us to defend mediocre leaders simply because they come from our region or ethnic group, even when they fail to deliver on the basic necessities of governance. In this context, mediocrity is not just accepted, it’s celebrated as long as the leader in question belongs to "our people." This loyalty, blind as it is, continues to tear the country apart and makes it almost impossible to demand better from those in power. Fear of Change Underlying all this is the fear of change. Many Nigerians have grown so accustomed to this mediocrity that they fear pushing for something better. They would rather stick to the familiar, no matter how dysfunctional it is, than embrace the uncertainty of demanding real progress. As some of the comments on my post reflected, people would rather play it safe within a broken system than take the risk of overhauling it. But that’s the very definition of being stuck—accepting the subpar because the thought of real change feels too daunting. Conclusion The sad truth is that Nigerians have been conditioned to defend mediocrity. Like victims of Stockholm syndrome, many have come to accept and even justify the actions of those responsible for their suffering. Whether it’s tribalism, poverty, or fear of change, we find ourselves clinging to the very things holding us back. But until we break free from this mental captivity, mediocrity will continue to define our politics, our governance, and our future. We deserve better, and it’s high time we started demanding it—loudly, consistently, and without apology. Let’s stop defending mediocrity and start fighting for the Nigeria we know we can be. |
Thank you so much. kYjelly2: |
Just read bro... JagabanB: |
I didn't know such words did exist. Once again read the article.. hakeemhakeem: |
Your logic is honestly flawed. I wrote an article about how leaders with low academic performance impact students' performance, and now you’re going off-topic, advocating for joining political parties like that’s the magical solution to all our problems. You sound like a very poor student of history because not too long ago, Nigerians like you chose a leader with a "NEPA certificate" over someone with a PhD. So, what else do you want from me? Should we clap for that strategic thinking? And let’s talk about the just-concluded elections—did you even bother to look at the résumés of the candidates? nairalanda1: |
thank you for that textbook definition! Really groundbreaking stuff. I’ll make sure to frame it and hang it on my wall for future reference. But here’s the thing: understanding the definition of competence doesn’t automatically mean you recognize it when it’s missing in real life. You see, in Nigeria, we don’t need a dictionary to define competence. We just have to look around at the state of the nation. Bad roads, failing electricity, leaders who can’t deliver basic governance—that’s incompetence in full display. You can throw all the fancy definitions at me, but until we start electing people who can actually deliver results, your dictionary meanings are nothing but words on a page. So, while you’re busy quoting definitions, I’ll be out here pointing out the real-world examples of incompetence you seem to be blind to. tutudesz: |
Ah, so you’ve laid out the blueprint for how to succeed in Nigeria—apprentice yourself to mediocrity, attend a few political meetings, and voilà, you're in power. Bravo. This is exactly the mentality that has kept the country stagnant for decades. Let’s get something straight: people like you are the problem. You celebrate mediocrity and defend it like it’s a national treasure. Instead of pushing for actual competence, you’re here glorifying the idea that to get ahead, one must join a "useless" party and bow to people who have no business leading a classroom, let alone a state. You really expect me to take advice from someone who believes that the only way forward is to join the same circus that has left our roads in shambles, our youths jobless, and the country’s name synonymous with corruption? You’re part of the reason why brilliance is mocked and incompetence is paraded like it’s some kind of badge of honor. The real joke here is not the guy with 7 A1s in SSCE; it’s people like you, who think that striving for excellence is the problem, while worshipping mediocrity is the solution. Let’s not even start with the “no food for lazy man” nonsense. There’s a difference between being lazy and refusing to kiss the feet of inept politicians. So, keep defending the same system that’s run this country into the ground. After all, you seem to have mastered the art of making excuses for why we should all settle for less. nairalanda1: |
Fortunately, I have been privileged to conduct recruitment for a company, and it was a nice experience. let it be worthy of note that competent and incompetence are two different words. tutudesz: |
Each time I see people like you come out in the open and defend mediocrity, I am reminded about the enormous problems we have as a country and the rot in our system. It's rather unfortunate what you celebrate. tutudesz: |
That is why your children should emulate such performance in school. hakeemhakeem: |
your point of view is a reflection of your mentality. Unfortunately, you lack comprehension. JagabanB: |
smh hakeemhakeem: |
i hope his result inspires your kids in school. tutudesz: |
Read the article again. I think you have a problem with comprehension. By the way SSCE is the bases ot foundation of all qualification. tutudesz: |
And why you will continue to by fuel for 1200 Ooh and exchangedollar for 2k Softmirror: |
When you will need a brain surgery someday, you'll need a native doctor knowledge for treatment. sunray: |
You deserve to buy fuel for 2k per liter. hakeemhakeem: |
I will employ you to read the article one more time to see the point that i am trying to make. The question the article employs you to ask is this: How can we encourage our children to strive for academic excellence when the standard for the height of achievement has nothing to do with academic excellence. It's like telling Eze to go to school when he sees his teacher, Mr. Wale, riding a secondhand Bajaj to school while his classmate Emma, who only comes to class once in a full moon, is riding a GLK from his Yahoo-Yahoo enterprise. My question is how do you encourage education in this kind of social environment? Lanretoye: |
In all you have said, I can only deduce one thing. And that is a school is a scam. If that's not what you are saying I will encourage you to read the post again. MightySparrow: |
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That is why Peter Obi can't qualify as Nigeria's president. He finished with a 3rd class and his GCE Result is nothing to write home about!!! Sam8891