Men too do suffer domestic violence . Don't mistake the quietness of a principled man as a weakness

Depot marketers lamented over Dangote's direct fuel distribution strategy, declaring it a “death sentence.”
After Dangote Petroleum Refinery announced it would start directly distributing petrol and diesel nationwide beginning August 15, members of the Dangote Marketers Group, an association of licensed depot marketers, have voiced significant concerns. They described this change as a "death sentence" for their part in the downstream value chain.

The marketers, who act as links between depot proprietors and fuel station managers, are concerned that the refinery's new approach of sidestepping traditional middlemen to provide direct sales and logistics to consumers will threaten their livelihood.

In a group chat, one marketer straightforwardly claimed that "the supply chain is dead." Others described it as an "evolution masked as a revolution" and cautioned that the resulting ripple effects could impact jobs, businesses, and even families.

Traditionally, independent marketers act as essential links by providing financing and logistical support between fuel depots and retail stations. Owners of fuel stations frequently depend on them for credit, assistance with loading processes, and managing transportation logistics.

Dangote's innovative approach eliminates the need for middlemen by providing direct sales, integrated logistics with a fleet of 4,000 trucks powered by CNG, and even offering credit options for bulk purchasers.

“Now imagine manufacturers boycotting middlemen and going straight to end users,” lamented Black Bishop, another group member. “End users will receive sealed, tamper-proof products delivered on time. All hell is about to break loose.” Mide Leo exclaimed.

Another marketer, Mide Loe, narrated how one of his clients, who owns over 15 haulage trucks, went silent after hearing the news.

“His silence was deafening,” Joe wrote. “Businesses will fold up. Homes will be broken. Fathers and mothers will be rendered jobless. This is sad.”

“Everyone dey collect… depot owners, importers, marketers, truckers, PTD, baranda” said Peter Akande, voicing frustration over the perceived monopoly.

Some marketers also questioned the silence of industry regulators like NMDPRA and the defunct PEF, which had developed the Aquila tracking platform. “What are the regulators doing? Someone should provide rules of the game,” said Stephen, emphasizing the need for policy safeguards to protect existing players.

“This isn’t a revolution. It’s the beginning of a one-man show in the downstream sector,” warned another group member. “May Nigeria succeed, but the market must remain competitive.”

“Let’s ask him how he intends to cover the cost of transportation. Is it embedded in product pricing? Will it lead to a price increase?” asked Black Bishop

No apologies for speaking English with Igbo accent. Your Igbo accent is your identity carry it with pride. Every people all over the world speaks English with their own accent, the one being attacked is Igbo accent. Speak igbo language or proudly speak the English igbotically.

His name is!!!!!!

My First Time (Episode 1)

It was just... my first time.

You see, growing up,
I built fences around my longings.
Barbed wires of scripture.
Walls of willpower.

Yes, I built my world on rules.
Not the ones written by men,
But the kind you etch in your spirit...
When you're desperate to stay pure in a defiled world.

I made promises to God...
With trembling lips and innocent hands.
Whispers at altars.
Tears during youth vigils.
I will stay virgin.
“No touching.”
“No tasting.”
Not even a kiss...
Until I say “I do.”

Chastity wasn’t just a principle.
It was identity.
It made me feel holy.
Set apart.
Safe.

I guarded it with fear,
Polished it with pride,
Wore it like a spiritual medal on my chest.

At first, it was easy.
Temptation was a rumour from afar.
I didn’t know I was bragging,
From the comfort of distance,
Until life dragged me closer...

Closer to the edge.
Closer to my first time.
So close, I slipped...
Into a moment that almost stained
everything I ever stood for.

And guess where it started?
Church.
Yes, church.
The holy ground.
Where fire falls,
And temptation hides in skirts.

I met her in the Lord’s house.
A sister dripping grace and beauty.
Golden.
Glowing.
Spirit-filled.
Fire-filled.
The kind of girl that makes angels blush,
And brothers lose their train of prayer.

You know those sisters...
That carry the Word like perfume?
The ones whose laughter feels like revival?

That was her.
Elegant.
Confident.
Convicted.
When she walked,
Even ushers paused...
Just to feel her presence again.

The first time I saw her,
My chest skipped.
But she didn’t see me.
Of course she didn’t.
I was just one humble brother in Christ.
So I did what humble brothers do.

I behaved.
Dodged eye contact.
Buried desire in devotion.
Tried to crucify my feelings like they were demons.

Every day, I looked away,
Praying she wouldn’t notice...
The war already starting in my soul.

Then Media Unit happened.
God called me... indirectly.
A leader pointed at me.
“You, join Media.”
I didn’t argue...
Who argues with destiny?

Guess who was already in Media?
Her.
Yes. Her.

We were teammates now.
Ministers.
Co-labourers in the vineyard.
Writing scripts.
Designing flyers.
Fighting battles I didn’t know existed.

Then that day...
That tiny moment that changed everything;
They asked, “Who here can write very well?”

I raised my hand.
And that was the beginning.
They gave me bulletins.
Flyers.
Devotionals.
And I was just writing.

Then, from behind me,
Came the voice I had only heard in daydreams:
“Oh! So you can write this well?”

I smiled... small.
Very small.
Calculated.
Not too wide.
Because any wider, would expose the war...
Already going on in my chest.

From that day, we started talking.
Nothing serious.
Just… holy conversations.
Holy laughter.
Holy friendship.

But there was a way she looked at me.
Or maybe the way I looked at her.
Whatever it was,
Emotions began rising like praise and worship
...on a revival night.

But we were just two fire-filled believers,
Caught in the web of silent attraction.
Too spiritual to confess.
Too emotional to ignore.

So, we bottled it.
Suppressed it.
Every glance.
Every brush of hand.
Every awkward silence that felt too loud.

Until…
That evening.

We had a design to finish;
Flyer for Sunday’s service.
The plan?
Meet in church.
Safe ground.

But she said,
“Your house is closer to me than church.
Let me just come there.”

My heart blinked.
My spirit cleared its throat.
Something whispered,
“Oga... be guided.”

But I brushed it off.
Because I had convinced myself...
I was stronger than I actually was.
I had recited enough memory verses
to believe temptation couldn’t find me.

Besides, I had vows.
I had standards.
I had said no so many times in my mind
that I thought it would be automatic.

I even muttered “In Jesus Name”
To make my foolishness sound holy.

She came.
Fifteen minutes early.
Because real sisters don’t keep time,
They beat it.

I served her water,
Like a good host.
We opened the laptop.
Opened Photoshop.
Started designing.

Everything was set.
Except our boundaries.

But that’s where I’ll stop...
Because what happened next, ehn...

...wait for Episode 2.

SOME POSSIBLE REASONS BENUE KILLINGS
AND THE NEEDs FOR GOVERNMENT TO ACT FAST
Cattle grazing and farmer-herder conflicts have been significant issues in Benue State, Nigeria, leading to violence and killings. Some underlying causes include:

Land disputes: Competition for land and resources between farmers and herders.

Climate change: Changes in climate patterns affect grazing routes and land availability.

Lack of effective governance: Inadequate policies, enforcement, and conflict resolution mechanisms.

Ethnic and cultural tensions: Historical and cultural differences between groups.

Armed groups: Presence of armed groups and bandits.

Economic factors: Competition for resources, poverty, and unemployment.

Government policies: Policies on grazing reserves, land use, and security.

These complex issues require comprehensive solutions, including dialogue, policy reforms, and community engagement.

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Ballon D'or 2025 will be a tough decision.