I don't know why Farooq isn't tired of nigeria.

Politicians have just some form of fault, but the followers are the most stupid

Most yoruba people don't really see anything evil in tinubu "awalokan"

All what you hear from dem is "e je ka ma gbadura"

As they are going to ori oke to buy water and oil, they are also going to alfa and babalawo to buy soap and charms

nigeria is irredeemable

So last Monday, around 8-9pm, our class rep dropped on our class WhatsApp chat group an assignment sent to her for us by a lecturer, also at that odd time of the day.

Mind you, this lecturer had lectured that same day, exhausted her two-hour lecture duration, and even took some extra minutes to tell us about her unsolicited success story, from being an ordinary roadside earpiece seller to now being able to board AirPace flights to travel across the world. How she went from squatting in one of her town's men's quarters to now housing about a quarter of the young boys from her village.



All those moments she used to give those self-exalting, pride-reeked talks, laced with spices of motivational speeches in order to conceal her actual pride, could have been enough to imagine, formulate, and give out any form of assignment, but no, it was by 8:53 p.m. that it occurred to her.

8:53? When the lecturer send the assignment? The motivational talks in class? Nah! That's preliminary. That's what English people would call "furthermore," or maybe "looking back," because the actual thing that enraged me was the time the lecturer asked us to submit the assignment unfailingly. 6 AM the next morning. Who does that? [In the late Jnr. Pope's voice]



Assignment given by 8:53, asked to be submitted by 6:AM unfailingly? This literally means anyone with plans of beating the deadline will have to be up at the latest by 4:30, take his or her bath, eat, and get prepared all in less than 30 minutes.

Then be sure to put on easy-to-navigate footwear, preferably bathroom slippers, to enable a smooth and super-fast trekking experience, because, of course, except in the case where one is lucky to find a cab driver chased out of his unhappy home by a nagging wife, there is no chance of getting any bike, cab, or taxi by 5 a.m. So how exactly do we submit assignments by 6 a.m.?





With boiling rage, I immediately put across to my class rep and almost wanted to tear her apart on the phone, as if she were the lecturer responsible for my vent. But she's the class rep, for goodness' sake, and a class rep shouldn't just be Dora ka Dorathy and allow a lecturer to run the class like Sani Abacha's administration.

She should have talked to, countered, and influenced that lecturer into knowing that 6 AM is too early for even the Bornu bororo breed of cattle to go on grazing. A class rep shouldn't just take toxic instruction from a lecturer and pass it on to the people she's representing. That's why I would have preferred a male, active, and outspoken class rep instead.



I ranted, ranted, and ranted over the phone while my class rep, Calmly, listened until I was done, then she softly asked, "Ebuka, are you done?

Oh! That softens my heart!



N.B.: My course rep's temperament is one in a million! Her type of person can successfully train a lion for 35 years with the notice of members of the neighborhood.

I'm so convinced that even if that girl unfortunately falls into the hands of an alcoholic, physically violent, chain-smoking, lazy, irresponsible man by union of marriage, social media won't hear a bit of her struggles.



Rather than seeking divorce like some of these 'biscuit bone Gen-Zs, under the same condition would, her kind of person would hold down her marriage with midnight prayers, believing that one day the Lord would finally get her once abusive husband, Christain Basil, pricked in the heart, and make him decide to join her in worshipping at Christ Embassy.



Now that's the kind of temperament the course rep we were blessed with has.




After my long rant, my course rep Calmly asked, "Ebuka, did you read the entire instruction I sent in the chat group? Did you read to the end?



And then it dawned on me that I really hadn't read everything. It was immediately after I read that line, "To be submitted by 6 a.m.," that I went haywire; the screws in my brain loosened, so I didn't bother reading further.



Heyyy! Embarrassment cloaked my voice and my entire being!

With all sense of "Be like say I done Bleep up,"

I hung up the call and rushed to WhatsApp, to our class chat group, and after really going through the whole thing, the lecturer, through our class rep, sent, Oh!. I felt stupid!

Yes, the assignment was supposed to be submitted by or before 6 a.m., but not physically; it was to be sent to the lecturer's email address. That was the part I didn't read. A typical instance of one being faster than his shadows, which LinkedIn experts would describe as "not paying keen attention to details,".



My course rep would have definitely been laughing her ass out after that call!



More embarrassing was that some of the "derogatory words" I used while ranting revealed the concealed hatred I had towards her being a course rep in a male-dominated department.



Heyyy! This was so humongously embarrassing that I almost felt like slicing myself up.

But if only I knew it was just a prelude and an appetizer.

If only I knew that this was just John the Baptistic embarrassment preparing the way for a bigger one.



If only I knew that this assignment that started with "Come One" [the embarrassing situation with my course rep] would graduate to "Come All" [the public shame that followed], I would not do it.



What's the worst that could have happened? I get dashed for not doing the assignment, failing the incourse, or, worst of all, failing the course and graciously rewriting it next year. That would have been better!




But people of God, despite the warning signals I got deep down in my soul to just forget the assignment—in fact, turn off my phone and sleep off the one I've gone through—I still forced myself. I wrote the assignment and submitted it to the lecturer's email that night.



Brethren, Yesterday, the lecturer was in our class again, did her two hours, and was about to leave when this oversabi-sabi girl of global repute and standard, who, if God has permitted, should be sharing the same kindred with Phyna BBN, asked about the assignment. How well did we perform on the assignment? How impressive we were!



The lecturer should have just ignored that question coming from that girl suffering from pokenogossiphil (an internal infection caused by excessive pokenose and uncontrolled gossip), but as expected since it was coming from a woman, the lecturer answered.

"Yes, you guys did well. The majority of you did well. But there was one abnormal person in this class who sent me a love letter. I don't know whether it was a deliberate act or if he or she mistakenly sent the love letter for the assignment. But whichever it is, I cover my thirteen-year-old marriage with the blood of Jesus.".



Who ma? Who sent a love letter? Who? Please, who, ma? Please read out the letter, ma?

The whole class, including me at this point, was curious to know the content and the messenger of the love letter.



If only I knew, brothers...
Continue reading.......https://www.arealproblemkid.com/2024/05/embarrassing-moments-ep-3-i-mistakenly.html

So last Monday, around 8-9pm, our class rep dropped on our class WhatsApp chat group an assignment sent to her for us by a lecturer, also at that odd time of the day.

Mind you, this lecturer had lectured that same day, exhausted her two-hour lecture duration, and even took some extra minutes to tell us about her unsolicited success story, from being an ordinary roadside earpiece seller to now being able to board AirPace flights to travel across the world. How she went from squatting in one of her town's men's quarters to now housing about a quarter of the young boys from her village.



All those moments she used to give those self-exalting, pride-reeked talks, laced with spices of motivational speeches in order to conceal her actual pride, could have been enough to imagine, formulate, and give out any form of assignment, but no, it was by 8:53 p.m. that it occurred to her.

8:53? When the lecturer send the assignment? The motivational talks in class? Nah! That's preliminary. That's what English people would call "furthermore," or maybe "looking back," because the actual thing that enraged me was the time the lecturer asked us to submit the assignment unfailingly. 6 AM the next morning. Who does that? [In the late Jnr. Pope's voice]



Assignment given by 8:53, asked to be submitted by 6:AM unfailingly? This literally means anyone with plans of beating the deadline will have to be up at the latest by 4:30, take his or her bath, eat, and get prepared all in less than 30 minutes.

Then be sure to put on easy-to-navigate footwear, preferably bathroom slippers, to enable a smooth and super-fast trekking experience, because, of course, except in the case where one is lucky to find a cab driver chased out of his unhappy home by a nagging wife, there is no chance of getting any bike, cab, or taxi by 5 a.m. So how exactly do we submit assignments by 6 a.m.?





With boiling rage, I immediately put across to my class rep and almost wanted to tear her apart on the phone, as if she were the lecturer responsible for my vent. But she's the class rep, for goodness' sake, and a class rep shouldn't just be Dora ka Dorathy and allow a lecturer to run the class like Sani Abacha's administration.

She should have talked to, countered, and influenced that lecturer into knowing that 6 AM is too early for even the Bornu bororo breed of cattle to go on grazing. A class rep shouldn't just take toxic instruction from a lecturer and pass it on to the people she's representing. That's why I would have preferred a male, active, and outspoken class rep instead.



I ranted, ranted, and ranted over the phone while my class rep, Calmly, listened until I was done, then she softly asked, "Ebuka, are you done?

Oh! That softens my heart!



N.B.: My course rep's temperament is one in a million! Her type of person can successfully train a lion for 35 years with the notice of members of the neighborhood.

I'm so convinced that even if that girl unfortunately falls into the hands of an alcoholic, physically violent, chain-smoking, lazy, irresponsible man by union of marriage, social media won't hear a bit of her struggles.



Rather than seeking divorce like some of these 'biscuit bone Gen-Zs, under the same condition would, her kind of person would hold down her marriage with midnight prayers, believing that one day the Lord would finally get her once abusive husband, Christain Basil, pricked in the heart, and make him decide to join her in worshipping at Christ Embassy.



Now that's the kind of temperament the course rep we were blessed with has.




After my long rant, my course rep Calmly asked, "Ebuka, did you read the entire instruction I sent in the chat group? Did you read to the end?



And then it dawned on me that I really hadn't read everything. It was immediately after I read that line, "To be submitted by 6 a.m.," that I went haywire; the screws in my brain loosened, so I didn't bother reading further.



Heyyy! Embarrassment cloaked my voice and my entire being!

With all sense of "Be like say I done Bleep up,"

I hung up the call and rushed to WhatsApp, to our class chat group, and after really going through the whole thing, the lecturer, through our class rep, sent, Oh!. I felt stupid!

Yes, the assignment was supposed to be submitted by or before 6 a.m., but not physically; it was to be sent to the lecturer's email address. That was the part I didn't read. A typical instance of one being faster than his shadows, which LinkedIn experts would describe as "not paying keen attention to details,".



My course rep would have definitely been laughing her ass out after that call!



More embarrassing was that some of the "derogatory words" I used while ranting revealed the concealed hatred I had towards her being a course rep in a male-dominated department.



Heyyy! This was so humongously embarrassing that I almost felt like slicing myself up.

But if only I knew it was just a prelude and an appetizer.

If only I knew that this was just John the Baptistic embarrassment preparing the way for a bigger one.



If only I knew that this assignment that started with "Come One" [the embarrassing situation with my course rep] would graduate to "Come All" [the public shame that followed], I would not do it.



What's the worst that could have happened? I get dashed for not doing the assignment, failing the incourse, or, worst of all, failing the course and graciously rewriting it next year. That would have been better!




But people of God, despite the warning signals I got deep down in my soul to just forget the assignment—in fact, turn off my phone and sleep off the one I've gone through—I still forced myself. I wrote the assignment and submitted it to the lecturer's email that night.



Brethren, Yesterday, the lecturer was in our class again, did her two hours, and was about to leave when this oversabi-sabi girl of global repute and standard, who, if God has permitted, should be sharing the same kindred with Phyna BBN, asked about the assignment. How well did we perform on the assignment? How impressive we were!



The lecturer should have just ignored that question coming from that girl suffering from pokenogossiphil (an internal infection caused by excessive pokenose and uncontrolled gossip), but as expected since it was coming from a woman, the lecturer answered.

"Yes, you guys did well. The majority of you did well. But there was one abnormal person in this class who sent me a love letter. I don't know whether it was a deliberate act or if he or she mistakenly sent the love letter for the assignment. But whichever it is, I cover my thirteen-year-old marriage with the blood of Jesus.".



Who ma? Who sent a love letter? Who? Please, who, ma? Please read out the letter, ma?

The whole class, including me at this point, was curious to know the content and the messenger of the love letter.



If only I knew, brothers...
Continue reading.......https://www.arealproblemkid.com/2024/05/embarrassing-moments-ep-3-i-mistakenly.html

A Nigerian woman bravely thwarted an attempted scam by capturing the perpetrators on video as they tried to lure her with a fictitious diamond scheme. The quick-witted woman, hailed a ride and sat in the back seat of the vehicle, unsuspecting of the danger lurking.

As the journey commenced, the driver and his accomplice engaged in a conversation about a mysterious diamond opportunity, hinting at unimaginable riches. Sensing the fraudulent nature of their dialogue, the woman stealthily began recording the interaction on her smartphone.

However, as their conversation escalated, the woman decided she had endured enough of their fraudulent antics.

In a decisive move, she opened the car and alighted, then confronted the driver and his accomplice, who were taken aback by her assertiveness. Refusing to be a victim of their scam, the woman called out the perpetrators, labeling them as "419 people," a term commonly used in Nigeria to refer to fraudsters.


https://youtu.be/ka-FwnUqf9g

MakindeHassan:


Some of you are unredeemable tribalist. You need to study history. Awolowo was the brain behind the blockade of the eastern region during the civil war that led to the starvation of Igbo children. Secondly he was the Finance Minister when he decided on the £20 policy that made the SE lose all their savings after the war.

I might be Yoruba but when I see the truth I will say it. If it were you would you vote for him? It was personal against Awo.

It was their choice to vote Peter Obi in 2023. How is that a crime. He was the youngest and most technical and I know Igbo guys that supported Osinbajo until he lost primaries. Rest.

ka ragba fun o.

Clerverly:
It is no longer news that Peter Obi after stealing Anambra dried, now wants to cover his tracks with a stooge he groomed while in Fidelity Bank in the name of Willy Obiano.
But my questions this morning to Ndi Anambra are as follows:

1.Do we allow AdaObi to turn Anambra state into his personal property?
2. Should we trust a bigot who cares only about himself, family and business empire?

3. Should we forgive a man who sold our identity to the enemies in abid to protect his loots?

4.Do we trust a man who backstabbed our hero even in death?

5.Should we allow Fidelity Bank to run Anambra State?

6.Should allow somebody who killed our common dream (soludo) to have his way?
7.Should we allow this soft spoken,self serving, criminally minded, irredeemably tribalist Abuja errand boy to hold sway?
Let's say No To Fidelity Bank!
Let's Say No To Next International!
Let's say No to another 8 years of fraud and stealing!
Let's say No to self centerdness!
Let's say No to tribal warlord!
Let's say No to an errand boy!
Let's Say No to underdevelopment of Anambra State!
Let's say No To the return of godfatherism in Anambra!
Let's No to a bigot who wants to distintegrate Anambra state along ethnic lines!

Let's say No! Let's say Noo!! Let's say Nooo!!!
Ndi Anambra Ibem, anyi oga- ano na mmiri ka ncha baa anyi na anaya?? Chukwu ekwelaa!!! Obi na Obiano ga ala!!!

imagine they are all Obidients today

Rino omOKRO, ka na ji na? Dan ubanka! Na che dan ubanka! Mai Sha Sha Sha kowai!

Idk2002:
So last Monday, around 8-9pm, our class rep dropped on our class WhatsApp chat group an assignment sent to her for us by a lecturer, also at that odd time of the day.

Mind you, this lecturer had lectured that same day, exhausted her two-hour lecture duration, and even took some extra minutes to tell us about her unsolicited success story, from being an ordinary roadside earpiece seller to now being able to board AirPace flights to travel across the world. How she went from squatting in one of her town's men's quarters to now housing about a quarter of the young boys from her village.



All those moments she used to give those self-exalting, pride-reeked talks, laced with spices of motivational speeches in order to conceal her actual pride, could have been enough to imagine, formulate, and give out any form of assignment, but no, it was by 8:53 p.m. that it occurred to her.

8:53? When the lecturer send the assignment? The motivational talks in class? Nah! That's preliminary. That's what English people would call "furthermore," or maybe "looking back," because the actual thing that enraged me was the time the lecturer asked us to submit the assignment unfailingly. 6 AM the next morning. Who does that? [In the late Jnr. Pope's voice]



Assignment given by 8:53, asked to be submitted by 6:AM unfailingly? This literally means anyone with plans of beating the deadline will have to be up at the latest by 4:30, take his or her bath, eat, and get prepared all in less than 30 minutes.

Then be sure to put on easy-to-navigate footwear, preferably bathroom slippers, to enable a smooth and super-fast trekking experience, because, of course, except in the case where one is lucky to find a cab driver chased out of his unhappy home by a nagging wife, there is no chance of getting any bike, cab, or taxi by 5 a.m. So how exactly do we submit assignments by 6 a.m.?





With boiling rage, I immediately put across to my class rep and almost wanted to tear her apart on the phone, as if she were the lecturer responsible for my vent. But she's the class rep, for goodness' sake, and a class rep shouldn't just be Dora ka Dorathy and allow a lecturer to run the class like Sani Abacha's administration.

She should have talked to, countered, and influenced that lecturer into knowing that 6 AM is too early for even the Bornu bororo breed of cattle to go on grazing. A class rep shouldn't just take toxic instruction from a lecturer and pass it on to the people she's representing. That's why I would have preferred a male, active, and outspoken class rep instead.



I ranted, ranted, and ranted over the phone while my class rep, Calmly, listened until I was done, then she softly asked, "Ebuka, are you done?

Oh! That softens my heart!



N.B.: My course rep's temperament is one in a million! Her type of person can successfully train a lion for 35 years with the notice of members of the neighborhood.

I'm so convinced that even if that girl unfortunately falls into the hands of an alcoholic, physically violent, chain-smoking, lazy, irresponsible man by union of marriage, social media won't hear a bit of her struggles.



Rather than seeking divorce like some of these 'biscuit bone Gen-Zs, under the same condition would, her kind of person would hold down her marriage with midnight prayers, believing that one day the Lord would finally get her once abusive husband, Christain Basil, pricked in the heart, and make him decide to join her in worshipping at Christ Embassy.



Now that's the kind of temperament the course rep we were blessed with has.




After my long rant, my course rep Calmly asked, "Ebuka, did you read the entire instruction I sent in the chat group? Did you read to the end?



And then it dawned on me that I really hadn't read everything. It was immediately after I read that line, "To be submitted by 6 a.m.," that I went haywire; the screws in my brain loosened, so I didn't bother reading further.



Heyyy! Embarrassment cloaked my voice and my entire being!

With all sense of "Be like say I done Bleep up,"

I hung up the call and rushed to WhatsApp, to our class chat group, and after really going through the whole thing, the lecturer, through our class rep, sent, Oh!. I felt stupid!

Yes, the assignment was supposed to be submitted by or before 6 a.m., but not physically; it was to be sent to the lecturer's email address. That was the part I didn't read. A typical instance of one being faster than his shadows, which LinkedIn experts would describe as "not paying keen attention to details,".



My course rep would have definitely been laughing her ass out after that call!



More embarrassing was that some of the "derogatory words" I used while ranting revealed the concealed hatred I had towards her being a course rep in a male-dominated department.



Heyyy! This was so humongously embarrassing that I almost felt like slicing myself up.

But if only I knew it was just a prelude and an appetizer.

If only I knew that this was just John the Baptistic embarrassment preparing the way for a bigger one.



If only I knew that this assignment that started with "Come One" [the embarrassing situation with my course rep] would graduate to "Come All" [the public shame that followed], I would not do it.



What's the worst that could have happened? I get dashed for not doing the assignment, failing the incourse, or, worst of all, failing the course and graciously rewriting it next year. That would have been better!




But people of God, despite the warning signals I got deep down in my soul to just forget the assignment—in fact, turn off my phone and sleep off the one I've gone through—I still forced myself. I wrote the assignment and submitted it to the lecturer's email that night.



Brethren, Yesterday, the lecturer was in our class again, did her two hours, and was about to leave when this oversabi-sabi girl of global repute and standard, who, if God has permitted, should be sharing the same kindred with Phyna BBN, asked about the assignment. How well did we perform on the assignment? How impressive we were!



The lecturer should have just ignored that question coming from that girl suffering from pokenogossiphil (an internal infection caused by excessive pokenose and uncontrolled gossip), but as expected since it was coming from a woman, the lecturer answered.

"Yes, you guys did well. The majority of you did well. But there was one abnormal person in this class who sent me a love letter. I don't know whether it was a deliberate act or if he or she mistakenly sent the love letter for the assignment. But whichever it is, I cover my thirteen-year-old marriage with the blood of Jesus.".



Who ma? Who sent a love letter? Who? Please, who, ma? Please read out the letter, ma?

The whole class, including me at this point, was curious to know the content and the messenger of the love letter.



If only I knew, brothers...
Continue reading.......https://www.arealproblemkid.com/2024/05/embarrassing-moments-ep-3-i-mistakenly.html

You're a dumbass

So last Monday, around 8-9pm, our class rep dropped on our class WhatsApp chat group an assignment sent to her for us by a lecturer, also at that odd time of the day.

Mind you, this lecturer had lectured that same day, exhausted her two-hour lecture duration, and even took some extra minutes to tell us about her unsolicited success story, from being an ordinary roadside earpiece seller to now being able to board AirPace flights to travel across the world. How she went from squatting in one of her town's men's quarters to now housing about a quarter of the young boys from her village.



All those moments she used to give those self-exalting, pride-reeked talks, laced with spices of motivational speeches in order to conceal her actual pride, could have been enough to imagine, formulate, and give out any form of assignment, but no, it was by 8:53 p.m. that it occurred to her.

8:53? When the lecturer send the assignment? The motivational talks in class? Nah! That's preliminary. That's what English people would call "furthermore," or maybe "looking back," because the actual thing that enraged me was the time the lecturer asked us to submit the assignment unfailingly. 6 AM the next morning. Who does that? [In the late Jnr. Pope's voice]



Assignment given by 8:53, asked to be submitted by 6:AM unfailingly? This literally means anyone with plans of beating the deadline will have to be up at the latest by 4:30, take his or her bath, eat, and get prepared all in less than 30 minutes.

Then be sure to put on easy-to-navigate footwear, preferably bathroom slippers, to enable a smooth and super-fast trekking experience, because, of course, except in the case where one is lucky to find a cab driver chased out of his unhappy home by a nagging wife, there is no chance of getting any bike, cab, or taxi by 5 a.m. So how exactly do we submit assignments by 6 a.m.?





With boiling rage, I immediately put across to my class rep and almost wanted to tear her apart on the phone, as if she were the lecturer responsible for my vent. But she's the class rep, for goodness' sake, and a class rep shouldn't just be Dora ka Dorathy and allow a lecturer to run the class like Sani Abacha's administration.

She should have talked to, countered, and influenced that lecturer into knowing that 6 AM is too early for even the Bornu bororo breed of cattle to go on grazing. A class rep shouldn't just take toxic instruction from a lecturer and pass it on to the people she's representing. That's why I would have preferred a male, active, and outspoken class rep instead.



I ranted, ranted, and ranted over the phone while my class rep, Calmly, listened until I was done, then she softly asked, "Ebuka, are you done?

Oh! That softens my heart!



N.B.: My course rep's temperament is one in a million! Her type of person can successfully train a lion for 35 years with the notice of members of the neighborhood.

I'm so convinced that even if that girl unfortunately falls into the hands of an alcoholic, physically violent, chain-smoking, lazy, irresponsible man by union of marriage, social media won't hear a bit of her struggles.



Rather than seeking divorce like some of these 'biscuit bone Gen-Zs, under the same condition would, her kind of person would hold down her marriage with midnight prayers, believing that one day the Lord would finally get her once abusive husband, Christain Basil, pricked in the heart, and make him decide to join her in worshipping at Christ Embassy.



Now that's the kind of temperament the course rep we were blessed with has.




After my long rant, my course rep Calmly asked, "Ebuka, did you read the entire instruction I sent in the chat group? Did you read to the end?



And then it dawned on me that I really hadn't read everything. It was immediately after I read that line, "To be submitted by 6 a.m.," that I went haywire; the screws in my brain loosened, so I didn't bother reading further.



Heyyy! Embarrassment cloaked my voice and my entire being!

With all sense of "Be like say I done Bleep up,"

I hung up the call and rushed to WhatsApp, to our class chat group, and after really going through the whole thing, the lecturer, through our class rep, sent, Oh!. I felt stupid!

Yes, the assignment was supposed to be submitted by or before 6 a.m., but not physically; it was to be sent to the lecturer's email address. That was the part I didn't read. A typical instance of one being faster than his shadows, which LinkedIn experts would describe as "not paying keen attention to details,".



My course rep would have definitely been laughing her ass out after that call!



More embarrassing was that some of the "derogatory words" I used while ranting revealed the concealed hatred I had towards her being a course rep in a male-dominated department.



Heyyy! This was so humongously embarrassing that I almost felt like slicing myself up.

But if only I knew it was just a prelude and an appetizer.

If only I knew that this was just John the Baptistic embarrassment preparing the way for a bigger one.



If only I knew that this assignment that started with "Come One" [the embarrassing situation with my course rep] would graduate to "Come All" [the public shame that followed], I would not do it.



What's the worst that could have happened? I get dashed for not doing the assignment, failing the incourse, or, worst of all, failing the course and graciously rewriting it next year. That would have been better!




But people of God, despite the warning signals I got deep down in my soul to just forget the assignment—in fact, turn off my phone and sleep off the one I've gone through—I still forced myself. I wrote the assignment and submitted it to the lecturer's email that night.



Brethren, Yesterday, the lecturer was in our class again, did her two hours, and was about to leave when this oversabi-sabi girl of global repute and standard, who, if God has permitted, should be sharing the same kindred with Phyna BBN, asked about the assignment. How well did we perform on the assignment? How impressive we were!



The lecturer should have just ignored that question coming from that girl suffering from pokenogossiphil (an internal infection caused by excessive pokenose and uncontrolled gossip), but as expected since it was coming from a woman, the lecturer answered.

"Yes, you guys did well. The majority of you did well. But there was one abnormal person in this class who sent me a love letter. I don't know whether it was a deliberate act or if he or she mistakenly sent the love letter for the assignment. But whichever it is, I cover my thirteen-year-old marriage with the blood of Jesus.".



Who ma? Who sent a love letter? Who? Please, who, ma? Please read out the letter, ma?

The whole class, including me at this point, was curious to know the content and the messenger of the love letter.



If only I knew, brothers...
Continue reading.......https://www.arealproblemkid.com/2024/05/embarrassing-moments-ep-3-i-mistakenly.html

465 hostages were freed and 715 terrorists killed in April - DHQ

According to the Nigerian Defence Headquarters, 465 kidnapped hostages were released in April, and troops killed over 715 terrorists in that same month.

During a biweekly media briefing in Abuja, Maj-Gen Edward Buba, the Director of Defence Media Operation, revealed these.

Buba emphasized that eliminating terrorist organizations is a must in order to shield citizens from additional harm.

He added that the military’s coordinated use of air and ground forces allowed them to accomplish the task.

He claimed that operations in April comprised fighting patrols, ambushes, and raids using aircraft assets to locate and attack terrorist commanders and their bases. Eyes Of Lagos reports,

He said, “The synchronised strikes between the ground and air forces during the period under review resulted in over 715 terrorists neutralised.

“During the process, troops arrested 146 persons and rescued 465 kidnapped hostages.

“Furthermore, troops recovered 937 assorted weapons, 23,034 assorted ammunition, and denied the oil theft of an estimated sum over N2 billion (N2,572,397,190),” he said.

He listed some of the engagements of the troops and the successes they recorded in the fourth month of the year.

“On April 13, 2024, during the airstrikes, three senior terrorist commanders (Ali Dawud, Bakura Fallujah, and Mallam Ari) were neutralised at Kolleram Village along Lake Chad.

“Additionally, on April 15, 2024, the enclave of terrorist commander, Babaru, in Kankara LGA of Katsina State was destroyed. On April 19, 2024, the terrorist hideout belonging to a senior terrorist commander, Kamilu Buzaru, in Danmusa LGA of Katsina State was decimated.

“Similarly, on April 20, 2024, a gathering of senior terrorist commanders, Ado Ailero and Kamilu Buzaru in Danmusa LGA of Katsina State was disrupted by airstrikes. Battle Damage Assessment of all these strikes revealed that several terrorist combatants and their commanders were neutralised,” he added.

In the North-East, the military spokesperson reported that Operation Hadin Kai troops conducted missions in the Sambisa Forest, Timbuktu Triangle, and the Tumbus around Lake Chad, resulting in the elimination of 248 terrorists, the arrest of 422 and the rescue of 163 kidnapped hostages.

Additionally, he said 714 Boko Haram and ISWAP terrorists, along with their families, surrendered, with recovered items including 208 AK-47 rifles, 34 fabricated guns, 45 Dane guns, and various caches of ammunition.

In the North-Central area, he said Operation Safe Haven neutralised 32 terrorists, arrested 148, and rescued 35 kidnap victims, seizing weapons and ammunition.

Maj-General Buba said Operation Whirl Stroke targeted criminal strongholds, killed 60 terrorists, arrested 99, and rescued 57 hostages, with arms and ammunition also recovered.

In the North-East, Operation Hadarin Daji, he said, continued efforts against terrorists, killing 297, apprehending 141, and rescuing 143 hostages, with significant weapon and ammunition recoveries.

In the South-South, the Operation Delta Safe operations, according to him, targeted violent extremists, crude oil theft, and illegal refining, resulting in killings, arrests, and significant recoveries as well as successes of Operation UDO ka in the South-East.

https://eyesoflagos.com/2024/05/03/465-hostages-were-freed-and-715-terrorists-killed-in-april-dhq/

skybluee1:
First game

Moreton Bay United v Springfield United over 3.5

Kickoff 10.30

Stake 10k

skybluee1:
Second game

Varbergs BoIS U21 v Gais Goteborg U21 over 3.5

Kickoff 14.00

To stake 20k

skybluee1:
Third game

Thor ka Akureyri (W) v Trottur Reykjavik (W) over 3.5

Kickoff 19.00

To stake 40k

GREEN 🍏

Na mbu ka obidoro..na bu.. na bu ka obidoro

Same story year after year..
But be careful

Run 🏃‍♀️ as far as you can from anything called Insurance Company in Nigeria..They are all Scammers. They don't pay claims.

Example..IGI INSURANCE COMPANY

Rino omOKRO, ka na ji na? Dan ubanka! ka ji ko? Na che dan ubanka!

Cantonese:


Bobrisky ka gi mma, onye ekpenta.
With your head like palm kernel.

E pepper you die.

Àjà a jụrụ ajụ nke ndị na-eme ememe Okija tụbara n'ime ọhịa. Osu pig, jee tuo okwute ka o gbuo nne gi n'akwara. Ewu Gambia!

Unlimited22:
Benin to Lokoja. The stretch From Irrua to Ekpoma to Auchi.

The section from Benin to Uromi.


Kaduna-Abuja.

Port Harcourt to Uyo (from Eleme to Bori, before you get to Ikot Abasi)

Uyo to Calabar.
Enugu to Makurdi (particularly the stretch From Nsukka to Oturkpo)


Ogoja to Jalingo (particularly the side from after Katsina-Ala to Zaki Biam)

At least these are the ones I know.


But we're spending 1 trillion on a project that God alone knows when it will be completed.


Ebonyi state left all the schools in rural areas to go and build airport that the runway is defective after 6 months and nobody is landing in.

ka Chineke mezie okwu.

How about Onitsha to Ukwuzu down to Awka, then to Enugu? Is it now OK?

Benin to Lokoja. The stretch From Irrua to Ekpoma to Auchi.

The section from Benin to Uromi.


Kaduna-Abuja.

Port Harcourt to Uyo (from Eleme to Bori, before you get to Ikot Abasi)

Uyo to Calabar.
Enugu to Makurdi (particularly the stretch From Nsukka to Oturkpo)


Ogoja to Jalingo (particularly the side from after Katsina-Ala to Zaki Biam)

At least these are the ones I know.


But we're spending 1 trillion on a project that God alone knows when it will be completed.


Ebonyi state left all the schools in rural areas to go and build airport that the runway is defective after 6 months and nobody is landing in.

ka Chineke mezie okwu.

Pepperdemisback:

Mkpụrụ obi jọrọ njọ na nhụsianya nke Okija jụrụ. Onye ekpenta, jee tuo nkume ka o gbuo ngwere maka nri-nri nke nne-nzuzu gi. ka mkpụrụ obi gị na-adịghị mma na-awagharị n'etiti ọkụ ala mmụọ na Purgatory. Ajuju na obi ojoo.

Bobrisky ka gi mma, onye ekpenta.
With your head like palm kernel.

E pepper you die.

Third game

Thor ka Akureyri (W) v Trottur Reykjavik (W) over 3.5

Kickoff 19.00

To stake 40k

Cantonese:



Nwanne Bobrisky,

Si te na ta, ekpenta a di go na uno nna gi.
Ara a ba ta go uno nna gi.

Efulefu!

Mkpụrụ obi jọrọ njọ na nhụsianya nke Okija jụrụ. Onye ekpenta, jee tuo nkume ka o gbuo ngwere maka nri-nri nke nne-nzuzu gi. ka mkpụrụ obi gị na-adịghị mma na-awagharị n'etiti ọkụ ala mmụọ na Purgatory. Ajuju na obi ojoo.

PopQueenAgency:


Then avoid shit-stained vomit like my unfortunate miserable and dementia mother.

Mkpụrụ obi jọrọ njọ na nhụsianya nke Okija jụrụ. Onye ekpenta, jee tuo nkume ka o gbuo ngwere maka nri-nri nke nne-nzuzu gi. ka mkpụrụ obi gị na-adịghị mma na-awagharị n'etiti ọkụ ala mmụọ na Purgatory. Ajuju na obi ojoo.

garriAndsugar:
How did they know he's homosexual?

so many ways, the way he dressed, the way he walks, the way he moves his fingers, hands and body when talking. The way they sit. Even the way they talk. It is written all over them. It can not be hidden. Arụ!! ka ó bụ.

overdrive:
Story others take their investments outside d shores of our country no body wl talk bt Mr Obi is bringing employment and industrialization and some ppl are talking arrant nonsense.ka mu nweta kwa unu.bia bar man make it 4 bottles of hero 4 me and my friends.

shameless since 2013.

Music Development in Ibusa: A Personal Account - Part Two
By Emeka Esogbue
"Egwu ka anyi bia li, ndi bia li ogu wa naa ana." - Dana 'Agility' Okonji
One day, my father returned from work with an album, and in his usual hurried move to his turntable, he opened the cover and at a fast pace, dropped the album on the music device. The song was slightly odd as it came with a strange account of the Nigerian Civil War. The artists were young Ibusa men from the Ogboli axis of the community. After the civil war of 1967 to 1970, a group of Ibusa young men under the auspices of Otu Ofu Ndu visited the studio to record an album.
Disposed to warfare but mourning the losses and destructions that came with the war, they invoked the people's sympathy with the 'cry.' The group of singers was mostly members of an irregular armed force who defended the Ibusa community from invasion during the war and living through the afflictions of the war, they made the song to historically recount their experience and perhaps, to issue warning on the evils of war to the living. Embraced by Ibusa listeners, the album became an instant hit and a precious household gift that Ibusa song listeners possessed.
It had several tracks but the most attention-grabbing seemed to be the war song. Fallen Ibusa 'soldiers' such as Bullet, Emma Nwosu, and several of their colleagues who fell to the bullet in Mgbotukpe Camp were paid homage in that track. The music style was unique because it was a blend of core Ibusa traditional music and highlife, something the people were experiencing for the first time. The mythical belief held in Ibusa that the people of Ogboli were warlike, refractory, and stock who engaged in defiance to inhuman treatment also helped to sell the songs with impetus.
A track particularly mocked Ibusa women who at the beginning of the war abandoned their husbands to run after soldiers only to begin to beg their husbands when the war had ended to allow them to return. It was a war situation in which many Ibusa women were put in a family way by unknown soldiers only to be abandoned at the end of the war.
Another track was titled "Lote Nu Igbuzo," which appealed to Ibusa sons and daughters to develop the community. During the war, many indigenes fled into the bush to seek cover with many never returning to the community, choosing to flee to safer places like Lagos, Ibadan, and Benin instead. Ghost town Ibusa was abandoned and emptied of socio-economic activities. It was on the strength of emissaries delegated to Oliewunaji and his co-fighters inside the Mgbotukpe Forest that the forces decided to lay down their arms. Long after the war had ended, these Ibusa defenders continued to prosecute the war, unknown to them that the war had since ended as narrated by Dr. Anthony Nwaezeigwe, a historian from the community who wrote an article on the topic. It was when the emissaries informed them about the development that they discontinued the fight.
To develop Ibusa meant that the scattered indigenes must first return to their hometown, look the way of their desolate community, and think up ways by which social structures would be put in place again. Otu Ofu Ndu, the Ogboli group of musicians took up the initiative to send this appeal to the sons and daughters of the community in their song, hoping that the call would be heeded. A few years later, Ogbogu Okonji and Etiti Okonji did a follow-up album in which an appeal was sent to the Diokpa of Ibusa, asking him to ensure that the Ibusa community was lit up with electricity.
The Otu Ofu Ndu was thankful to Rev Father Kunirum Osia who was the war-time Parish Priest of St. Augustine's Catholic Church, Ibusa. Regrettably, the priestly years of Father Osia who hailed from Obomkpa, another Anioma community was almost consumed by the Nigerian Civil War and his efforts to safeguard Ibusa from total annihilation. This left him with the untold burden of Ibusa to bear, confronting soldiers and catering to Ibusa refugees. Rev Father Kunirum Osia stood between the Nigerian soldiers and impending massacres, preventing the soldiers from visiting the community with the magnitude of the pogrom that Asaba and Isheagu experienced.
Father Osia was not only in charge of the Refugee Camp in Sacred Heart Elementary School, Ibusa but with the aid of some Ibusa women, buried several Ibusa sons and daughters who were caught up in the crossfire of Nigerian and Biafran bullets. He hid many Ibusa indigenes from soldiers inside the church thereby risking his life and the wrath of the fierce soldiers. It was Rev Kunirum Osia who attracted the General Hospital to Ibusa shortly after the war, inviting his friend, the then Head of State, Gen Yakubu Gowon (retd) to commission the project.
It was in consideration of this altruistic help to the Ibusa community that Otu Ofu Ndu dedicated a track to him, paying him homage. Years after, during the presentation of the book, "Anioma in Contemporary Nigeria," edited by him, this author, Dr. Emeka Esogbue, reminded Dr. Kunirum Osia of the Otu Ofu Ndu track and the Ibusa appreciation and also personally saluted him on behalf of the Ibusa people.
In 2006, Rev Father Kunirum Osia was on the ground at the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs (NIIA), Victoria Island, Lagos to launch the book, "Anioma in Contemporary Nigeria," which he edited and the Ibusa people were in massive turnout to salute the man who prevented the community from the massacre of soldiers in the enormity of what neighbouring Asaba community experienced. Four of the Ibusa big shots present at the event were Chief Peter Eloka Okocha, the guru of politics and businessman, Prof Pat Utomi, the political economist, Chief Tony Azuya, security chief and head of Technocrime Security and Elder Statesman, Dr. Austin Izagbo who is also the Ide of Ibusa. This author was also in attendance at the event as the leader of the Umu Anioma Foundation Worldwide.
Lamentably, beyond the words of appreciation from the individuals and Otu Ofu Ndu homage, the Ibusa community is yet to honour Kunirum Osia, the wartime saver of Ibusa lives. As they proverbially say in the people's parlance, "Okuku adia elofu onye kwuo odu na udu mmili" but the people of the community appear to become oblivious of the earnest and conscious efforts of the man who risked his life and priesthood to prevent his dear Ibusa host community from the destruction of the Nigerian Civil War that claimed more than three million lives in the country, also setting many communities backward. It is not a bad idea if a monument or street is named after the Ibusa hero in the community. What is mocking in the personality of Kunirum Osia is that his Obomkpa compatriots consider him as one whose astonishing feats were in favour of Ibusa and not their community and this author was shocked in the extreme to hear his community compatriot make this mention.
Despite the development above, Kunirum Osia is retained in the musical history of Ibusa by Otu Ofu Ndu, the Ogboli warriors. Indeed, the Ibusa people acknowledge his priestly and heroic efforts to the community and anyone who listened to the oral delivery of Ibusa's Chief Peter Okocha at the book launch event would appreciate Osia, the hero.
Two Ibusa contemporary highlife musicians competed with other Nigerian musicians of their time in this genre. These were St. Michael Obanya and Bright Osadebe. These two legends are worth mentioning in this article for their excellent musical career and for putting Ibusa in Nigerian highlife music maps side by side with other notable singers of their days. The musical career of the duo was short-lived; nevertheless, the singers made impacts within their short-lasting reign. St. Michael Obanya was a passionate singer with a shrill and insistent voice. His particular "Oboshi Ta Orji" song was widespread within the Anioma area, breaking the doors of the Ibusa audience.
The song chanted the praise of Oboshi, the age-long revered female deity of the Ibusa people. It sacrificially offered the goddess Kola nut for the return of peace to the community. The lyrical belief of St. Michael Obanya in the Oboshi divinity was not an accident. He hailed from Umuekea, one of the quarters with the spiritual conviction of Oboshi as the mother and devout guide of the quarter. It was from this quarter that Ohene Umuogwo, one of the best-known Water Priests of the deity who died in 2009 also hailed. Sir Augustine Nweke from Isieke part of the quarter would artistically complement the sacredness of the goddess with the sculptural recreation. St. Michael Obanya therefore had the Oboshi background in him.
The significance woven in St. Michael Obanya's Oboshi lyric was the idea of good and bad in society. He was concerned with the distinction between right and wrong in Ibusa society, crooning "imeli nma, ime li onwei na enu uwa, ime li njor, ime li onwei na enu uwa," a reminder of the stance of Oboshi that forbade 'aluu.' To the people, Oboshi River was capable of drowning the evil doers on getting close to the water and singer; Obanya was not unmindful of this spiritual menace. Although the song was danceable, the dancers were never unmindful of the furious powers of the Oboshi Mmili when provoked.
St. Michael Obanya was not the only Ibusa musician thematic of the Oboshi goddess in his lyrical composition. Nearly every traditional musician of the community from time immemorial found a means to mention Oboshi whether as a 'mother' or a guide of Ibusa. Dana Okonji's Otu Mbosionyenwu Obulunjoa's "Alusi Mmili" was about Oboshi and Ogbogu Okonji's expression of "uya ye ke eme anyi, ya domi ishu na Oboshi," is an indication of belief in the deity as a protector of the people of the community. For John Nwanze Nwabuwa, it was "Oboshi mmili, nmor di akai," meaning "Oboshi, the custodian of the things of the spirit."
In furtherance, until the coming of Christianity to the region, the ancient Ibusa people were known for their exclamations of "Oboshi Mba," "Oboshi Mmili Mba," "Nnem Oboshi," and "Oboshi Kamgbolu," all of which signify submission and extreme veneration of the deity. It is in the same vein, that the people named their male children after the deity as reflected in such names as "Nwaoboshi" and "Okoboshi." Typically, any male child burns on the way to Oboshi or anywhere near the stream bore the name. The name speaks characteristically of Ibusa's identity.
Bright Osadebe was the best-known Ibusa highlife musician perhaps with albums numbering about three but "Ezi Nne," a track released in 1976 was one of Ibusa's best-selling highlife songs of all time. The song, dedicated to his mother evoked motherly love and care for children. Once released, the Ibusa market was responsive to the creativity of the musician. Bright Osadebe and His Melody Sound Makers held the Ibusa highlife lovers spellbound with the "Ezi Nne" track but the album was not all about this song. Bright Osadebe preached peace and condemned "Nmu ka Mali," which he tagged "Mr. Too know." The saying, "Amulu ma, amulu ma, odia kwe okili akporakpor," gained currency.
One aspect of his music that his lovers enjoyed was the use of proverbs. With his songs full of Enuani proverbs, Osadebe's statements were almost entire proverbs so it took the knowledge of Enuani proverbs to understand him effectively. From Bright Osadebe, we learnt the following proverbs: "Iwe bu te nkalu", "Ile oma ka ejine ji ali enu," "nkili nkili wa kili ododo," "wa di eji kwa oge eni ozu," "ife di na uwa bu akalaka," nke di na uwa bu okele enu," "onu na eli nni, mali onye onaa gu," "oha ncha aji wea iwe ukpu," etc.
Bright Osadebe and my father shared a very close relationship to the extent that they were almost inseparable. In 1986, he was on a visit to our Lagos home to spend some days. Seeing Bright Osadebe around her with his song playing, my younger sister, little Ngozi, innocently asked my father why Bright Osadebe was with us and his song was playing on the turntable and both men laughed their hearts out.

...to be continued

jude79:


Tun ka che kai dan arewa, kai magana a hausa mu gani, wawa kowai

baby factory peegs want me to prove my arewa to him

With his gutter and incoherent hausa diction oo

Procashtips:


Unfortunately, "Oodua" as an identity is even more recent than the word "Yoruba"


Less than 200 years ago, they all answered their father's names. Maybe this is why they rather stick to Yoruba identity given to them by outsiders than create an original identity like Oodua.

We answered our sub ethnic group e.g. Egba, ife, Oyo, Ekiti, Ijebu, Ijesha e.t.c but we knew we were all Omo ka ro ojire, olukunmi, Omoluabi, akuu people, Anago e.t.c. when it comes to unifying ourselves.

Ibadan (a military fort with warriors from all parts of present day Yoruba land) is an example of such unity , before the kiriji war power tussle.

Pepperdemisback:

Akpụkpọ anụ ekpenta! Jenu tuo okwute ka gbuo ngwere maka nri-oriri nne gi ara.

Nwanne Bobrisky,

Si te na ta, ekpenta a di go na uno nna gi.
Ara a ba ta go uno nna gi.

Efulefu!

Cantonese:


Iti.

Anyway, you are deeply peppered and sorrowfu. Unfortunately no pity for you.
As it stands, all your family continue to live with the spirit of Bobrisky. Your arses begin to leak.

Ezi ofia.

Akpụkpọ anụ ekpenta! Jenu tuo okwute ka gbuo ngwere maka nri-oriri nne gi ara.

KayOn1:


Bros, Long grammar no dey pay again. All the grammar, " og-one ka o putalu na afia"
Start mopping up, we go buy from you later. Na your body go tell you.

You no go because you want to buy at bargain they talk something way dey incorrect.

DS never release Q1, u talk say they release and it is bad.

U talk say DS go dey fall, I talk say not necessarily, look at bids.

Some guy say Nascon bad, I talk say na FX make am bad small o cos dey still make profit, if not na very good eh be.

So, d coco be say, no dey add salt and pepper, cos somebody go correct you.