Afrobeats queen Tiwa Savage has opened up about her early days in music, revealing a surprising transformation from tomboy to sex symbol — all thanks to her ex-husband and former manager, Tunji “Teebillz” Balogun. Eyes Of Lagos reports,

Speaking on the Afrobeats Intelligence podcast with Joey Akan, Tiwa shared how her fashion and public image dramatically changed when she returned to Nigeria to launch her singing career.

I was reading a book called Your Brain on P*rn by Gary Wilson a few weeks ago... and let me just say, I haven't looked at my phone the same since, am still reading ,
The man explained things I wish I knew at 13. He said your brain reacts to p*rn the same way it reacts to cocaine.

Like, your neurons are not even being humble about it. The brain literally goes, “Ooooh dopamine!” and rewires itself to chase that high like rent is due.

It hit me deep when he said this generation isn’t just struggling with lust, we’re struggling with hijacked reward systems.

That’s why you can’t focus, can’t connect, can’t sleep, can’t love, your brain is fried, not broken.
And it’s not just science talking. I went into a rabbit hole after that.
Do you know centuries ago, philosophers were already warning about this stuff?

There’s a quote often attributed to ancient empires that said:
“If you want to destroy a nation, flood it with n*dity and broken families.
The rest will fall by itself.”
Even the Indian spiritualists and monks, people who’ve meditated more hours than I’ve been alive, said this centuries ago.

They warned that s*xual energy, if not respected, can ruin the strongest men and even empires.

These guys would fast, meditate, avoid eye contact, and sit under trees for 30 years just to avoid what some of us casually open on lunch break
They weren’t being dramatic. They were protecting their minds.

Because the mind is the battlefield, and p*rn is an invisible weapon.
Silent. Shameful. Easy to access. Hard to unsee.

I was addicted for years. Not because I wanted to be, but because I was lonely. Empty. Bored. Angry.
And it felt like the easiest escape.

I didn’t need to talk to anyone. Just click, scroll, watch, hide. Until hiding became a lifestyle.
But healing started when I realized:
I wasn’t just watching p*rn.
I was avoiding pain.

I was feeding my lust and starving my soul.
I was substituting quick pleasure for real purpose.
And slowly, I was losing me.
So I made some changes.
I blocked sites.

Deleted apps.
Got accountability.
Started journaling.
Working out.
Learning.
Creating.
Reading.

And building a life that doesn’t need escapism.
Listen p*rn is not just “bad for you.”
It’s a system built to keep you distracted, addicted, emotionally numb, and spiritually weak.
If you think it’s “just entertainment,” congrats. That’s exactly what the billion-dollar industry wants you to believe.
You don’t have to be perfect. But you owe it to yourself to be free.
This is your wake-up call.
You are more than a slave to pixels.
You are powerful.
Gifted.
Creative.
Loved.
And your mind was built to dream, not just scroll.

Never allow yourself to be defined by someone else's negative opinion of you. You are a person of destiny, you are equipped, you are talented, and you are creative. You have manifold potentials; discover them and fulfillment shall be yours! Everything you desire is yours if only you can understand YOU! The understanding of yourself is the foundation of living an outstanding life. Wake up!

Don't ever stop trying, learning, improving until the miracle happens; in the end, it is not the years in your life that count; it's the life in your years. So, don't complain about things you are not willing to change! What consumes your mind, controls your life! Take time to consciously see what you think about most of the time; that will give you a heads-up if you will make it in life.

Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you but by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you but by the way your respond. It’s not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it! Change your mindset and your life changes! What you look at is not as important as what you see; guard your mind, it is the foundation to how far you can go!

Listen, let your past make you better, not bitter; don’t waste time living the life of others; be YOU!

Stay blessed

Troops from the 22nd Armoured Brigade, stationed at the Forward Operating Base in Patigi, Kwara State, have arrested eight suspected kidnappers and rescued two victims during a significant operation.



Lieutenant Stephen Nwankwo, Acting Assistant Director of Army Public Relations for the 22 Brigade in Ilorin, reported this in a statement on Sunday, June 22, 2025. He mentioned that the troops also seized two motorcycles and recovered two spent cartridges from the suspects, who are believed to be part of a kidnapping gang operating in the area.



The coordinated operation was initiated based on credible intelligence.


“In continuation of sustained efforts to rid Kwara State of criminal elements and ensure public safety, troops of 22 Armoured Brigade, deployed at Forward Operating Base (FOB) Patigi, have successfully conducted a coordinated raid on a suspected kidnappers’ enclave,” the statement read.

"Acting on credible intelligence, the troops launched a tactical operation on Saturday, 21 June 2025, targeting a hideout on the outskirts of Latandaji Village in Patigi Local Government Area.

"During the operation, the troops encountered mild resistance but swiftly overpowered the criminals with superior firepower. The raid resulted in the rescue of two kidnap victims, identified as Mr. Amos Moses and Mr. Philip Michael, and the arrest of eight suspected kidnappers.

"However, one individual, Mr. Mohammed Mohammed, sustained gunshot wounds during the exchange of fire and was promptly evacuated to Bachita Teaching Hospital for medical attention.

"A further search of the area led to the recovery of two motorcycles and two expended cartridge shells believed to have been used by the suspects.

"All arrested individuals are currently in military custody undergoing preliminary investigation and will be handed over to the appropriate authorities for prosecution.

"This operation stressed the Nigerian Army’s unwavering commitment to safeguarding lives and property across the country. Members of the public are encouraged to continue providing timely and actionable intelligence to security agencies as we collectively work to dismantle criminal networks.Travel packages

“The Nigerian Army remains resolute in its mission to protect communities and restore lasting peace in all areas of deployment.”

I WAS ERASED BY MY OWN SISTER
PART 6
Nneka sat on the cold floor of her padded cell, her fingers tracing the cracks in the wall like a map to freedom. Months had passed since Ngozi stole her life, and every day in this hellhole chipped away at her sanity. The drugs made her weak, but they couldn’t kill her will to survive.
She had stopped screaming.
She had stopped begging.
Now, she was planning.
Then, one day, hope walked in wearing scrubs.
Nurse Adaeze was new to the psychiatric ward. Young, observant, and kind-hearted, she treated patients like humans, not animals.
One evening, as she handed Nneka her medication, she paused.
"You don’t seem like the others here," she whispered.
Nneka lifted her hollow eyes. "Because I don’t belong here."
Nurse Adaeze studied her face—the sharp cheekbones, the faint birthmark on her left wrist. Then, her eyes widened.
"Wait… I know you."
Nneka’s breath hitched.
"You’re Nneka Okoye. The founder of Naturé by Nneka. I use your products!"
Tears welled in Nneka’s eyes. For the first time in months, someone saw her.
"Please… help me," Nneka begged, clutching Nurse Adaeze’s hand. "My sister did this to me. She stole my life."
Nurse Adaeze hesitated. She knew the risks. But looking into Nneka’s desperate eyes, she made a decision.
"I’ll get you out."
Over the next few days, Nurse Adaeze smuggled in small things—a phone, a change of clothes, a forged discharge form.
"There’s a back exit near the laundry room," she whispered. "Cameras are broken. Tomorrow night, when Dr. Bello is on duty—he never checks the records properly."
Nneka memorized every detail. This was her only chance.
Meanwhile, the drugs they forced into her system made her limbs heavy, her thoughts slow. But she fought through the fog.
"I have to escape… I have to make Ngozi pay."
While Nneka plotted her escape, Emeka sat in his study, staring at divorce papers.
The woman he married—or thought he married—was not the Nneka he fell in love with.
This Nneka was reckless.
This Nneka was cruel.
This Nneka didn’t love him.
She partied all night, spent money like water, and barely remembered his name.
"Where were you last night?" he had asked her the day before.
"Out," she shrugged, not even looking up from her phone.
That was the moment he knew.
He had married a stranger.
That evening, Ngozi stumbled in at 3 AM, drunk, her dress disheveled, lipstick smeared.
Emeka stood in the hallway, arms crossed.
"We need to talk."
Ngozi rolled her eyes. "Ugh, not this again. What now?"
"I want a divorce."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Ngozi froze. Then, she laughed—a sharp, mocking sound.
"You’re joking, right? After everything I’ve done for you?"
"What have you done, exactly?" Emeka snapped. "Spent my money? Ignored me? Destroyed Nneka’s business?"
Ngozi’s smirk faded.
"Wait… what did you just say?"
Emeka’s eyes narrowed.
"I said Nneka’s business. Not yours. Because let’s be honest… you were never half the woman she was." I don't know this nneka standing before me
Ngozi’s face twisted in rage.
"You have no idea what you’re talking about!"
But Emeka was done.
"Pack your things. I want you out by morning."
Back at the asylum, Nurse Adaeze slipped Nneka a set of keys.
"Tonight. Be ready."
Nneka’s heart pounded.
This was it.
Freedom.
Revenge.
As the clock struck midnight, Nurse Adaeze disabled the alarms. Nneka changed into the clothes she had hidden, slipped out of her cell, and followed the shadows to the laundry exit.
The cold night air hit her face like a slap.
She was free.
But this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Because now…
It was Ngozi’s turn to suffer.
To Be Continued…

There are two ways to be happy,
*Change the situation, or change your mindset towards it

I was buying groundnut at the junction while waiting for my change, I saw a woman walking with a child and the child walking faster than the woman and the woman shouted ...Degree!!! wait for me!

I was so amazed hearing that name. So to satisfy my curiosity, I walked closer to the woman and asked.......MAMA why did you call this little child Degree? the woman laughed and said to me "my dear, I sent her Mother to the university and this is what she brought home"

Have a good week guys.

“I Was Their Housemaid. They Told Their Visitors I Was a Cousin.”
20 Years Later, I Bought Their Mansion — And Gave It Back to Them Rent-Free.

They dressed me in hand-me-downs.
Made me serve their guests and wash their underwear.
But anytime visitors came, they’d smile and say:

> “She’s our little cousin from the village.”

I wasn’t family.
I was labour disguised as love.

But when the winds of life changed…
They never expected the same "cousin" to become their landlady.

From Maid to Millionaire — What She Did With the House That Once Housed Her Pain Left the Entire Family Speechless
Written by Rosyworld CRN

2002. GRA, Port Harcourt, Nigeria.

I was 11 when I moved in with them.
They promised my widowed mother they’d send me to school.

Instead, I became their domestic help.
Up by 4 AM.
Sleep by midnight.

I washed their dishes, ironed their uniforms, ran errands, and never complained.
Every time they introduced me as “our cousin,” I smiled through the lie.

Only the last daughter, Amaka, ever treated me kindly.
She once whispered:

> “One day, you’ll be bigger than all of us. Just don’t forget yourself.”

When I turned 15, they let me go.
Said they couldn’t afford to “keep an extra mouth.”

I moved in with a church family.
Hustled.
Went back to school.
Studied Accounting.
Sold snacks during holidays.

Eventually, I opened a small cleaning agency.

2020.

My agency serviced estates.
Managed elite homes.

That’s when I saw the house again.

Their house.
Old now. Paint peeling. Broken gate.

I found out it was up for auction.
They had lost everything to debt.

I didn’t blink.

I bought it.

Cash.

Then waited.

One Saturday morning, I knocked on their door.

The father opened.
Wrinkled, surprised.
They were squatting in one room upstairs — no light, no dignity.

They didn’t recognize me… until I said:

> “I’m the cousin who used to clean your toilets.”

Gasps.
Confusion.
Then silence.

I handed them keys.

> “This house is yours. Rent-free. No shame.

You don’t owe me.

But you owe the next person like me — kindness.”

The mother fell to her knees.
The daughters cried.

Only Amaka could speak.
She hugged me and whispered:

> “You didn’t forget yourself… and you didn’t forget us either.”

Today, I own 13 properties.
But that house?
It’s my loudest statement in silence.

Because the people who hid your pain with lies…
May one day live inside your compassion.

From housemaid… to house owner.
From “cousin”… to quiet conqueror.
From thrown away… to throne giver.

Follow Rosyworld CRN for more stories that prove:
True wealth is when your heart remains rich — even after you become powerful

I was buying groundnut at the junction while waiting for my change, I saw a woman walking with a child and the child walking faster than the woman and the woman shouted ...Degree!!! wait for me!

I was so amazed hearing that name. So to satisfy my curiosity, I walked closer to the woman and asked.......MAMA why did you call this little child Degree? the woman laughed and said to me "my dear I sent her Mother to University and this is what she brought home"

Have a good week guys.

WAS ERASED BY MY OWN SISTER
PART 5
The walls of the psychiatric hospital were cold, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and despair. Nneka sat curled in a corner of her padded cell, her once-glossy skin now dull, her bright eyes hollow.
She had stopped screaming.
No one believed her when she told them she was Nneka Okoye, a successful businesswoman, a loving daughter, a woman about to marry the love of her life.
They called it "delusions of grandeur."
The drugs they forced into her veins made her thoughts slow, her words slurred. Some days, she couldn’t remember her own name.
But deep inside, buried beneath layers of medication and forced sedation, a spark of rage still burned.
"Ngozi…" she would whisper in the dark.
Her sister had stolen everything.
Her face.
Her name.
Her life.
And now, Nneka was nothing but a ghost in her own body.
Meanwhile, Ngozi—now living as Nneka—was drowning in luxury.
She had married Emeka in a lavish ceremony, smiling as he slid the ring onto her finger—the same ring that was meant for her sister.
But the thrill of deception was wearing off.
Ngozi had never been as smart as Nneka.
She couldn’t handle the business meetings, the investors, the pressure of running Naturé by Nneka. So, she did what she did best—she quit.
"I need a break," she told Emeka, shrugging. "Work is stressing me out."
Emeka frowned. The Nneka he knew would never abandon her dreams so easily.
But he said nothing.
Then, Ngozi stopped sending money to their parents.
"They’ll be fine," she scoffed when Emeka asked. "They have savings."
But Emeka knew the truth—Nneka had never neglected her family.
Ngozi spent her days shopping for designer bags and her nights clubbing with her new "rich friends."
She came home drunk, stumbling past Emeka as if he were furniture.
She ignored his texts, dismissed his concerns, and rolled her eyes when he tried to hold her.
"Why are you so clingy?" she snapped one night, pushing him away.
Emeka stood there, heart cracking.
This wasn’t the woman he fell in love with.
This wasn’t Nneka.
One evening, Emeka sat alone in their empty penthouse, staring at their wedding photo.
Nneka—no, Ngozi—was out again, probably laughing in some VIP section while he sat here like a fool.
He picked up his phone and dialed his best friend, Chike.
"I think… I made a mistake," Emeka whispered, voice breaking. "This isn’t the woman I proposed to. She’s changed. Or maybe… maybe I never really knew her."
Chike sighed. "Brother, I’ve been wanting to say this for months. The Nneka you married… she’s not the same Nneka you fell in love with."
Emeka closed his eyes.
He knew.
He just didn’t want to believe it.
Back in the asylum, Nneka lay on her thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.
She had learned to stay quiet. To obey. To pretend the drugs had won.
But behind her empty gaze, her mind was sharpening.
She watched.
She listened.
She planned.
Because one day…
One day, she would escape.
And when she did—
Ngozi would regret ever crossing her.
To Be Continued…

Something in me changed the day I realized no one was coming to save me. So I started choosing myself — learning, healing, and gently building the life I’ve always dreamed of.