Chelsea for life?

Is good to help yourself at a certain stage......Study kee,,,

Before Wire ----------- After Wire

Thank God for the gada.chat social media on line lunching, for this great life time opportunity..

Back to back?

What killers do not know is even if they kill someone in his sincerity and honest being demonized and falsely accused, they actually have not killed him, because of the glory that follows the righteous of faith in Christ Jesus!

Allow them to keep doing the work of Satan their master, because whatever is buried must resurrect by the faith and power of the Most High himself: Abba Father!

Do not bother about all the lies they tell about you; focus on Abba Father and His instructions and inspired directions for you as an individual.

I HAVE HAD A VERY STRESSFUL DAY TODAY SLEEP JUST THEY TORMENT ME LIKE THIS... I NO SURE SAY I GO FIT STAY UP TONIGHT WATCH THIS INTER MIAMI GAME

THEY SHOULD HAVE PLAYED THIS OPENING GAME MUCH EARLIER

GOODNIGHT GUYS I HOPE INTER MIAMI WINS

New clothes brand: unknown cypher (UKC)

Humans are quick to judging others without making inquiries.so sad how perfect pple claim to be #@we are all sinners displaying in different form

Humans are quick to judging others without making inquiries.so sad how perfect pple claim to be #@we are all sinners displaying in different form

What killers do not know is even if they kill someone in his sincerity and honest being demonized and falsely accused, they actually have not killed him, because of the glory that follows the righteous of faith in Christ Jesus!

Allow them to keep doing the work of Satan their master, because whatever is buried must resurrect by the faith and power of the Most High himself: Abba Father!

Do not bother about all the lies they tell about you; focus on Abba Father and His instructions and inspired directions for you as an individual.

Xabi Alonso believes Bellingham will play more as a central midfielder than an attacking midfielder, and will try him out at the Club World Cup. Depending on results, Real Madrid may decide to sign another midfielder.

Feed Your Soul Well
#LiveRight

Every day is a new day to try. And stay active

GOODNIGHT FRIENDS..

When you help your fellow Man you build a team

let's break the drum like heart break

Yelewata community in Guma LGA of Benue state was attacked yesterday. Over 200 kids & women burned beyond recognition. You won’t hear any of this in the media, it’s total media blackout. The governor is campaigning for Asiwaju. The people of Benue are on their own.

Brian Barry-Murphy will sign in as new Cardiff City manager on Monday, deal completed.

Viktor Gyökeres’ priority is to join Arsenal this summer despite calls from Manchester United in the recent weeks.

Gyökeres always an option amid Šeško talks with no deal sealed so far, Arsenal keep assessing situation.
United remain keen but believe deal now unlikely.

The leader, Cyril Ramaphosa, of the biggest Economy in Africa departs for Canada, no Airports charades or an entire cabinet lining up for Fake smiles.

I remember standing there... just outside the church.

The music had started.

People were already seated.

And inside, my brother... was waiting to marry the woman I thought I’d spend my life with.

My hands were shaking.

But not from fear.

From rage.

See... I had nothing left to lose.

They’d already taken everything.

My home.

My business.

My future.

And now... they were walking down the aisle to dance on the grave of what used to be my life.

So I walked in.

Straight down the center aisle.

Past the gasps... the whispers... the stares.

I looked my brother in the eye.

Then I turned to her.

She was dressed in white, like a queen about to ascend her throne.

And I smiled.

That kind of smile you give when the final piece of a long, brutal chess game finally clicks into place.

“You forgot one thing,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

They froze.

“You forgot... I always finish what I start.”

And then... I handed him the small black envelope.

“Enjoy the honeymoon,” I whispered.

I turned around... and walked out.

But the silence behind me?

That said everything.

Now... I know what you’re thinking.

What the hell happened?

Why would my own brother marry my fiancée?

Why did I lose everything?

And what the hell was in that envelope?

Well... to understand all that...

You have to go back.

Back to where it all began.

Before the betrayal.

Before the fall.

Before I learned what family really means.

And trust me...

It gets worse before it gets better.

Way worse.

It started like all tragedies do...

With everything going right.

I had just turned 30.

My business was finally taking off.

I ran a boutique renovation company—nothing fancy, but we had loyal clients, steady referrals, and a crew that felt like family.

I was engaged to the kind of woman you plan your whole future around.

Her name was Nadia.

She was smart.

Gorgeous.

The kind of presence that could light up a room without even trying.

We met at a charity event—funny enough, hosted by my younger brother, Marcus.

He was the “golden boy” of the family.

The one who never failed.

The one who got the praise, even when he didn’t deserve it.

But I didn’t mind back then.

I thought we were different.

I worked hard.

He worked crowds.

He was charm.

I was grit.

Nadia and I had been together for three years when I proposed.

She said yes with tears in her eyes.

Everything felt solid.

Real.

I was building a house for us—literally.

It was supposed to be our dream home.

Custom everything.

Her design input was everywhere—from the tiles to the walk-in closet she made me stretch the budget for.

And that? That was fine.

Because I thought we were building a life.

But here's the thing about building.

You can’t always see the cracks right away.

Sometimes... you don’t even know you’re living inside a structure that’s already collapsing... until the day the whole damn thing comes down on top of you.

The first crack?

It was small.

Barely even noticeable.

Marcus started showing up more often.

At first, it made sense—he said he wanted to invest in real estate.

Asked questions about the renovation business.

Wanted to “learn.”

I was flattered, honestly.

He was the high-flyer—finance, PR, the whole deal.

For him to take interest in my little company?

It felt like respect.

And Nadia?

She encouraged it.

She said it was good for us to have more family involved.

Said Marcus had “great instincts.”

Said he was “such a people person.”

I didn’t think anything of it...

Not yet.

But looking back?

That was the first move on a chessboard I didn’t even realize I was standing on.

Because what came next...

Was the slow, surgical dismantling of everything I loved.

It started with a client.

A simple kitchen remodel in the suburbs.

The kind of job we’d done a dozen times before.

Only this time... something felt off.

The client—Mrs. Greene—called me directly.

She was upset.

Said my crew had walked off the job halfway through the week.

Said she hadn’t seen anyone in days.

Now, that didn’t make sense.

We ran a tight schedule.

My foreman, Luis, was meticulous.

So I drove down to the site myself.

And what I found?

Nothing.

No crew.

No tools.

No materials.

It looked abandoned.

So I called Luis.

Straight to voicemail.

I called the supplier.

He told me the last two invoices—both for that site—had been canceled.

Canceled.

By someone named... Marcus.

I felt the air punch out of my lungs.

Why would Marcus be touching supplier accounts?.... Continue to story on the comment section

Wanted Bandit Leader Ado Aleru Holds 'Peace Meeting' With Katsina Communities, Nigerian Army Personnel Present parallelfactsnews.com/ado-aleru-hold…

Breaking ❗️❗️ Israel declares Iran’s Supreme Leader Khamenei ‘not off limits’ — I said it 48 hours ago

Can you name all the people in this picture ??

Nike rolled out the legends for their new kit releases

THE VILLAGE OF THE TWO HUNDRED EYES
An African Folktale of Communal Wisdom
by
Linda Somiari - Stewart

In the heart of the green valley of N’nika, where hills rolled like the backs of resting lions and baobab trees whispered secrets to the stars, a child was born on a moonlit night.

Her name was Zoya, which means “peace after longing.” Her mother, Amina, had wept for many seasons, her womb quiet like an abandoned fireplace. Her father, Kwaku, had prayed by rivers and planted trees that never bore fruit. But when Zoya arrived, laughter returned to their home like rain after drought.

Now, in many places worldwide, a child is considered the property of the parents. “My daughter,” “my son.” But in N’nika, a child belongs to the people. There, they say, “A child is birthed by four eyes, but nurtured by two hundred.”

And so, Zoya was not only the joy of her mother and father, she was the moonbeam of the village. Her first laugh echoed from hut to hut like festival drums. When she took her first step, an elder carved the memory into wood. When she said her first word—"Maji" (water)—the village griot sang it into the evening fire.

Each villager played their part. Old Mama Binta, whose eyes had dimmed but whose spirit saw clearly, taught Zoya riddles and proverbs. Uncle Sefu, who shaped clay like it was born in his palms, showed her how to mold earth into beauty. Auntie Dede, swift-footed as a gazelle, taught her to dance on the drum’s breath. Even Blind Baba Chikere, who never saw her face, listened to her soul and reminded her, “You are more than what eyes can see.”

One day, when the rains were late and the air cracked with dryness, Zoya, now a child of seven seasons, saw a brilliant green butterfly flutter past. Her eyes widened. She remembered Mama Binta's tale: “The butterfly that glows like emerald flies toward old magic.” Curious, fearless, Zoya followed.

She wandered into the forest, past the watchful iroko tree, into the thick silence where children were told not to stray.
Hours passed. Shadows lengthened. The sun bowed out.

Panic rose like smoke in Amina’s chest. Kwaku’s hands trembled. But before their fear became thunder, the village moved.

Mama Binta said, “She spoke of butterflies this morning.”

Uncle Sefu recalled, “She asked me about the old stone under the iroko tree, the one shaped like wings.”

After pausing her grinding, Auntie Dede added, “I saw her head toward the bush path near the river bend.”
No one said, “Not my child.”
Because Zoya belonged to all of them.

The drum was sounded - not in alarm, but in unity. Two hundred eyes awakened. Old legs and young feet marched. Voices called her name not angrily but with love braided into every syllable.

They found her just as dusk kissed the sky. She sat peacefully beside a stone shaped like wings, humming a song she had learned from Baba Chikere. When asked if she was scared, she said, “No. I knew someone would come. Someone always comes when someone is lost.”

That night, under a sky heavy with stars and the smell of roasted maize, the village held a feast - not just for Zoya’s return, but for the power of many eyes, hands, and hearts.

Zoya grew into a woman of many talents. She became a healer, a teacher, and a singer of old songs. When she had her own child, she did not build a wall around them. She opened her door wide.

And when strangers from far lands encounter her versatility, they would ask, “Who taught you such wisdom?” She would say: “The eyes that watched me were many.
The love that raised me was village-wide and deep.”
And so, dear friend, learn this: The natural order is not to raise any child alone. Whether in Nairobi or New York, Lagos or London, an authentic village is not made of huts and fences - but of hearts willing to see, hands willing to hold, and spirits willing to lift. Please do your best to return the natural order to our neighborhoods and villages.