This is for bread lovers.
Here are some breakfast ideas you can have with bread.

Truly, Champions are those who have fought and won life's battles. Don't you know you are one

Hey guys lunch is served
Come with your spoon

"Decision and determination are the engineer and fireman of our train to opportunity and success."

There is perfect match for you, just be patient, at the right time he will come.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 3
Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always.
"Working late. Don’t wait up."
She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him.
But now, the food would go cold. Again.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance.
She took a deep breath and called him instead.
The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant.
"Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.
Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office."
A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you."
Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage.
"Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this."
Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late."
And just like that, he hung up.
Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt.
When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting.
The candles had burned out. The food was untouched.
He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs.
"Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?"
No. It couldn’t.
"Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home."
Drama.
That word shattered something inside her.
"This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!"
Everything except his love.
Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back."
For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference.
"I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away.
And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken.
Grace didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen.
So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon.
In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened.
Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave.
"Sister Grace… I fear for your life."
Grace froze. "What?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you."
Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?"
Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life."
Grace gasped, her blood running cold.
"The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late."
Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years?
But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears.
You will die if you stay.
That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event.
"Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?"
Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy."
The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling."
Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?"
Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all."
Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately."
The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both."
Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it.
TO BE CONTINUED...

*On January 29, 2025,* Pi Core Team reminded pioneers about the *Passphrase Safety and Security Guides*


While the pioneers globally where expecting a laugh on *March 14th, 2025,* Suddenly and surprisingly, on *February 12th, 2025* The announcement of the *Open Network* took place.

They’re giving another reminder of wallet safety recently, could this signal another big announcement coming *June 28th, 2025?*



Lets just be hopeful to see what ahead....

By admin Olasheu

I will never forgive 2go, why should I? How? Not after what 2go did to me.

I was 19 years old then, using 2go like others. I had connected with one Presh452. Peeping through my Nokia 2626, I could see a beautiful DP. Yes, I like fine fine ihe rị mma. Who no like better thing? Ị na-alụ nwaanyị jọrọ njọ a ga-ebere gị ya ego?

The connection began from chatting to exchange of phone number. Then, night calls. Then, midnight by 12:00 AM to 5:00AM you'd call and speak with anyone free of charge. When that country was still called Nigeria before it turned to Bongo.

Awwww. Midnight, innocent calls — innocent conversation — innocent "I love you...I love you too" raining like a heavy downpour in Mbanefo Hostel. Boys were calling their sweethearts, feeling loved and to be loved. Then I would be in the reading room, Presh452 would call. She's no longer Presh452 but Precious.

When the call enters, I'd leave my books to speak with Pre Pre. Awww. Love Nwantịntị. Precious is a beautiful girl. Queen of Persia. Bianca is learning beauty from her. Precious is as beautiful as the Arab Queens. In fact, through 2go, she sent me beautiful pictures.

"This is you?"

She'd say yes.

Awwww. Her beauty has turned into a butterfly, flying inside my stomach, getting out through my oesophagus, connecting to my alimentary canal. Oh, canal man cannot understand the things of the spirit.

"I can't wait to see you in Aba," my sweet Precious would say.

"I can't wait to see you too," a lost Ọnụkwube would reply.

Midnight calls back to back. Precious had told me number of children she wanted. She was going for 6, I needed just 2. In fact, if possible, 1. But 2 is okay. She didn't want 2 children, after all her father was so rich and had properties in Aba with a fleet of car. In fact, her elder brother was in Europe where he was a billionaire in Euros. So, money no be problem. "Let's have 6 children, my family are rich."

Everything was on her head. I wasn't thinking of any children. She was already planning 6 kids. With who? But you know, when the butterfy flaps its wings in your stomach, you seem to forget some yarning of dust, and dwell on the flow. The flow was flowing.

However, I had gone to the University of Port Harcourt to meet with Professor Nọlue Emenanjọ. Even though I was quite young, I had started meeting professors earlier — traveling to different universities just to meet those men I had read from books. I connected with them on personal level.

The idea was, after going to Uniport, I would branch in Aba to meet my first lady. The most beautiful woman on earth, 2go gave me. We had planned going to cinema together, eat at expensive restaurant, discuss about the future and our love life. So sweet!

She would send me more pictures.

"Are these your pictures?"

"Yes."

Chai. The girl had a pot of beauty broken on her head, and beauty drenched her body, wet it like a fowl beaten by rain. Why can't Precious compete as Miss Universe?

I had left Port Harcourt on Thursday morning. I first left Chọba for Rumuola by Aba Road. Then, Obigbo was still manageable. I plied the road by jumping on ndị Aka n'elu motor. Through Port Harcourt Road, we got to Aba.

She asked me to wait for her at Tonimas. Even though I had to meet her, I was a confirm guy man to stay at the opposite direction and observe my environment unto security-wise.

I stayed behind a parked bus to place a call, someone picked, and was approaching me.

"I am here."

"No. You are not here. I am not seeing you."

"Look at me, I am here."

Mbanụnụ.

Something was standing before me quite alright, but the thing was not a human being. Not my Precious whom I had spent my sleepless nights calling on nightcall. It cannot be my princess, my asampetecious asampete whose beauty was mesmerizing Ọbama then.

I don't want to abuse what God has created. But it seems that after God was done creating some people, they recreated themselves against God's image. Because, how can someone's eyes be bigger than ikwiikwii? Her eyes socketed inside like that of a mọnkey. Imi pịahụ ya ka imi enwe. The sponge okpu n'isi was like that of a mad woman in Eke Imeọha. Her teeth stood erect like amụ ịnyịnya.

Ọnụkwube ntọọọ. Ị chụgburu onwe gị na nwaanyị. Why do bad things keep happening to good people? My mates were using 2go and connecting with ụmụnwa, why did my own 2go connect with kpalakwukwu? Other people's snares hunted living things, mine caught non-living things.

I took a deep breath. Then asked like a conquered wrestler, "are you Precious?"

She said yes, without remorse. She wasn't even remorseful that she sold me adaka in place of enwe. I was praying, kabbashing so that people who knew me wouldn't see me with this kind of usungu. The kind akpoola she wore was sounding on the ground "ma i kelere m, ma i keleghị m, I don't care."

I had made a promise, I must fullfil it. I had promised we would go on date at Crunches located then at Ikot Ekpene Road. But, how would I be looking at this person's face? Impossible. I am not hungry. Even if I am, I'll not eat. You cannot ponzi me and expect me to be happy. Elu na ala ekwela ngwere gbaa ajị.

As we were walking, she was doing the talking, and replying herself. Me Wey be vibe turned deaf. Ogbi. She was ranting how rich her father was. How rich her brother was. Shouting as if I was Buubu who had ear problems and Ee Pee See spend billions to treat it.

Keke was coming with speed, this girl was walking like her father owned the road. The Keke almost hit her, I quickly held her backward before ikuku kẹkẹ eburu ya. I practically saved her from being crushed by the Keke.

Guess what she did?

She went to fight the Keke man. Hitting her open palm on her mouth. "Wuuuuuuuuuuu. If you try me, you will sleep in cell. I.d.i.ot, do you know who my father is?"

I was a gentleman to the core. I was pleading with the Keke man to forgive. I saw what happened. She was at fault. Everyone in the Keke was telling her she was at fault. Aunty was busy insulting them.

The Keke man wasn't responding to her but just looking at me with a pity.

"Fine boy like you, kee ihe i ji udele a eme? See the kind thing you dey Waka for road with."

Na wetin man do man.

You cannot win Aba men with bad mouth. The man was pitying me. I was trying to manage the fact that I was lied to, the same person was embarrassing herself. What was remaining was to remove her clothes and fight. So, na onye ara I came to Aba to see? 2go— tọnda faya you!

No problem. What I would do was on my mind. We got to the restaurant. I asked her to order. She placed her order. I refused to order anything. I lost appetite. What if I eat anything, someone who knows me walks in. My mama fit disown me. I cannot.

Eventually, we stepped out of the restaurant. She was telling me how her father locked her teacher for one week because the teacher punished her in school.

She was saying those things..

Guess what I did?

I took her by surprise and ran to the other side of the road, with the back of my legs touching back of my ears. Then, I jumped into Keke like a thief a na-achụ ọsọ.

"Peace Park, Peace Park!"

"Ọga na #100," the Keke man said, delaying me.

"Go! Go! I will give you 200 naira. Just go."

The Keke guy moved, the girl crossed the road, pursuing me and Keke. She had long leg oo. Chasing us oo! Thank God there was no traffic.

I got to Peace Mark, paid the Keke guy 200 naira. Big money those days. I bought my ticket and bought a newspaper I used to cover the other side — reading newspaper I didn't budget for — in case my Aba Precious abata.

The vehicle quickly filled up, we drove to Nsụka.

When I got to Nsụka, she texted me:

"Because I am not beautiful, that's why you treated me like that..."

I replied: "since you are not proud of yourself— then you were sending me other people's pictures as yours — why should I be proud of you?"

She paused, I paused, 2go paused; all of us paused!

I will never forgive 2go, why should I? How? Not after what 2go did to me.

I was 19 years old then, using 2go like others. I had connected with one Presh452. Peeping through my Nokia 2626, I could see a beautiful DP. Yes, I like fine fine ihe rị mma. Who no like better thing? Ị na-alụ nwaanyị jọrọ njọ a ga-ebere gị ya ego?

The connection began from chatting to exchange of phone number. Then, night calls. Then, midnight by 12:00 AM to 5:00AM you'd call and speak with anyone free of charge. When that country was still called Nigeria before it turned to Bongo.

Awwww. Midnight, innocent calls — innocent conversation — innocent "I love you...I love you too" raining like a heavy downpour in Mbanefo Hostel. Boys were calling their sweethearts, feeling loved and to be loved. Then I would be in the reading room, Presh452 would call. She's no longer Presh452 but Precious.

When the call enters, I'd leave my books to speak with Pre Pre. Awww. Love Nwantịntị. Precious is a beautiful girl. Queen of Persia. Bianca is learning beauty from her. Precious is as beautiful as the Arab Queens. In fact, through 2go, she sent me beautiful pictures.

"This is you?"

She'd say yes.

Awwww. Her beauty has turned into a butterfly, flying inside my stomach, getting out through my oesophagus, connecting to my alimentary canal. Oh, canal man cannot understand the things of the spirit.

"I can't wait to see you in Aba," my sweet Precious would say.

"I can't wait to see you too," a lost Ọnụkwube would reply.

Midnight calls back to back. Precious had told me number of children she wanted. She was going for 6, I needed just 2. In fact, if possible, 1. But 2 is okay. She didn't want 2 children, after all her father was so rich and had properties in Aba with a fleet of car. In fact, her elder brother was in Europe where he was a billionaire in Euros. So, money no be problem. "Let's have 6 children, my family are rich."

Everything was on her head. I wasn't thinking of any children. She was already planning 6 kids. With who? But you know, when the butterfy flaps its wings in your stomach, you seem to forget some yarning of dust, and dwell on the flow. The flow was flowing.

However, I had gone to the University of Port Harcourt to meet with Professor Nọlue Emenanjọ. Even though I was quite young, I had started meeting professors earlier — traveling to different universities just to meet those men I had read from books. I connected with them on personal level.

The idea was, after going to Uniport, I would branch in Aba to meet my first lady. The most beautiful woman on earth, 2go gave me. We had planned going to cinema together, eat at expensive restaurant, discuss about the future and our love life. So sweet!

She would send me more pictures.

"Are these your pictures?"

"Yes."

Chai. The girl had a pot of beauty broken on her head, and beauty drenched her body, wet it like a fowl beaten by rain. Why can't Precious compete as Miss Universe?

I had left Port Harcourt on Thursday morning. I first left Chọba for Rumuola by Aba Road. Then, Obigbo was still manageable. I plied the road by jumping on ndị Aka n'elu motor. Through Port Harcourt Road, we got to Aba.

She asked me to wait for her at Tonimas. Even though I had to meet her, I was a confirm guy man to stay at the opposite direction and observe my environment unto security-wise.

I stayed behind a parked bus to place a call, someone picked, and was approaching me.

"I am here."

"No. You are not here. I am not seeing you."

"Look at me, I am here."

Mbanụnụ.

Something was standing before me quite alright, but the thing was not a human being. Not my Precious whom I had spent my sleepless nights calling on nightcall. It cannot be my princess, my asampetecious asampete whose beauty was mesmerizing Ọbama then.

I don't want to abuse what God has created. But it seems that after God was done creating some people, they recreated themselves against God's image. Because, how can someone's eyes be bigger than ikwiikwii? Her eyes socketed inside like that of a mọnkey. Imi pịahụ ya ka imi enwe. The sponge okpu n'isi was like that of a mad woman in Eke Imeọha. Her teeth stood erect like amụ ịnyịnya.

Ọnụkwube ntọọọ. Ị chụgburu onwe gị na nwaanyị. Why do bad things keep happening to good people? My mates were using 2go and connecting with ụmụnwa, why did my own 2go connect with kpalakwukwu? Other people's snares hunted living things, mine caught non-living things.

I took a deep breath. Then asked like a conquered wrestler, "are you Precious?"

She said yes, without remorse. She wasn't even remorseful that she sold me adaka in place of enwe. I was praying, kabbashing so that people who knew me wouldn't see me with this kind of usungu. The kind akpoola she wore was sounding on the ground "ma i kelere m, ma i keleghị m, I don't care."

I had made a promise, I must fullfil it. I had promised we would go on date at Crunches located then at Ikot Ekpene Road. But, how would I be looking at this person's face? Impossible. I am not hungry. Even if I am, I'll not eat. You cannot ponzi me and expect me to be happy. Elu na ala ekwela ngwere gbaa ajị.

As we were walking, she was doing the talking, and replying herself. Me Wey be vibe turned deaf. Ogbi. She was ranting how rich her father was. How rich her brother was. Shouting as if I was Buubu who had ear problems and Ee Pee See spend billions to treat it.

Keke was coming with speed, this girl was walking like her father owned the road. The Keke almost hit her, I quickly held her backward before ikuku kẹkẹ eburu ya. I practically saved her from being crushed by the Keke.

Guess what she did?

She went to fight the Keke man. Hitting her open palm on her mouth. "Wuuuuuuuuuuu. If you try me, you will sleep in cell. I.d.i.ot, do you know who my father is?"

I was a gentleman to the core. I was pleading with the Keke man to forgive. I saw what happened. She was at fault. Everyone in the Keke was telling her she was at fault. Aunty was busy insulting them.

The Keke man wasn't responding to her but just looking at me with a pity.

"Fine boy like you, kee ihe i ji udele a eme? See the kind thing you dey Waka for road with."

Na wetin man do man.

You cannot win Aba men with bad mouth. The man was pitying me. I was trying to manage the fact that I was lied to, the same person was embarrassing herself. What was remaining was to remove her clothes and fight. So, na onye ara I came to Aba to see? 2go— tọnda faya you!

No problem. What I would do was on my mind. We got to the restaurant. I asked her to order. She placed her order. I refused to order anything. I lost appetite. What if I eat anything, someone who knows me walks in. My mama fit disown me. I cannot.

Eventually, we stepped out of the restaurant. She was telling me how her father locked her teacher for one week because the teacher punished her in school.

She was saying those things..

Guess what I did?

I took her by surprise and ran to the other side of the road, with the back of my legs touching back of my ears. Then, I jumped into Keke like a thief a na-achụ ọsọ.

"Peace Park, Peace Park!"

"Ọga na #100," the Keke man said, delaying me.

"Go! Go! I will give you 200 naira. Just go."

The Keke guy moved, the girl crossed the road, pursuing me and Keke. She had long leg oo. Chasing us oo! Thank God there was no traffic.

I got to Peace Mark, paid the Keke guy 200 naira. Big money those days. I bought my ticket and bought a newspaper I used to cover the other side — reading newspaper I didn't budget for — in case my Aba Precious abata.

The vehicle quickly filled up, we drove to Nsụka.

When I got to Nsụka, she texted me:

"Because I am not beautiful, that's why you treated me like that..."

I replied: "since you are not proud of yourself— then you were sending me other people's pictures as yours — why should I be proud of you?"

She paused, I paused, 2go paused; all of us paused!

PRESS RELEASE

VIRAL VIDEO: POLICE CONDEMNS UNPROFESSIONAL CONDUCT, ORDERS IMMEDIATE DISCIPLINARY ACTION.

As Force Cautions Against Abuse of Police Services

The Nigeria Police Force has taken cognizance of a disturbing video making rounds in the media space, showing police officers receiving money from a Chinese national. The Force has strongly condemned the conduct exhibited by the police officers in the video, describing it as unprofessional and unethical.

The actions of the officers do not represent the established ethics, standards, and core values of the Nigeria Police Force. The Force has zero tolerance for such unprofessional behaviour and other forms of misconduct, which undermine public trust and confidence.

The officers captured in the video have been identified and subjected to disciplinary proceedings.

The Nigeria Police Force hereby cautions individuals and organizations privileged to the services of Police personnel, particularly as escorts and guards or other specialized services, to desist from any act capable of degrading the integrity of its officers and bringing the Force to disrepute.

ACP OLUMUYIWA ADEJOBI, mnipr, mipra, fCAI,
FORCE PUBLIC RELATIONS OFFICER,
FORCE HEADQUARTERS,
ABUJA.

17TH APRIL 2025

Good of you perfect dance

"Eid belongs to the Christians— we are the one supposed to be k!ll!ng ram not the Muslims"

— Pastor Odekunle.

Night rest