*The Power of Confidence*

Confidence is the key to unlocking your full potential. When you believe in yourself, you can achieve anything. Confidence gives you the courage to take risks, face challenges, and pursue your dreams. It helps you to stand out, make a lasting impression, and build strong relationships.

*Benefits of Confidence*

- Increased self-esteem
- Improved performance
- Better decision-making
- Enhanced creativity
- Stronger relationships
- Greater resilience

*Building Confidence*

- Focus on your strengths
- Set achievable goals
- Practice positive self-talk
- Take calculated risks
- Learn from failures

By cultivating confidence, you'll become more empowered, motivated, and successful in all areas of your life.

JB WORLD

2dy is a blessed day don't lose focus

This Is Not 2013: Why the ADC Coalition Can’t Mirror the APC

The promoters of the new coalition like to draw parallels with what the APC achieved in 2013. But let’s be clear: this is not 2013—and this is not the APC.

In 2013, the merger that birthed the APC was driven by selflessness, national interest, and strategic discipline. The leaders at the time were willing to set aside personal ambitions for the greater good. Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu, despite commanding the loyalty of several sitting governors, chose to wait. He bided his time, played the long game, and focused on building a viable political platform. He had never lost an election, and he didn’t have to force his way in.

Now contrast that with today’s coalition. The chief promoter is a serial election loser, clutching at what he clearly sees as his last shot at the presidency. Unlike Tinubu, he enters the coalition alone—without the backing of his state governor, his region, or any meaningful political structure. His ambition is personal, not patriotic. So also that of his many co-travelers.

Hey Gaba! You're amazing, and your strength inspires others. Keep pushing forward, even when the journey gets tough. Believe in yourself, stay focused, and know that your hard work will pay off. You've got this!

Happy new month friend and family
Welcome to the mouth of July
Prayers:

1. "Dear God, bless this new month with fresh opportunities, renewed strength, and unwavering faith. Guide me towards growth, wisdom, and joy."
2. "May this July bring me closer to my goals, filled with purpose, passion, and productivity. Amen."
3. "Lord, grant me patience, perseverance, and positivity as I navigate life's challenges. May your love and light shine through me."

Motivations:

1. "New month, new beginnings. Believe in yourself and your abilities."
2. "July is a fresh start. Make it count with determination and hard work."
3. "You got this! Stay focused, stay driven, and crush your goals."

Inspirational Quotes:

1. "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." - Eleanor Roosevelt
2. "You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great." - Zig Ziglar
3. "Believe you can and you're halfway there." - Theodore Roosevelt

May these prayers and motivations inspire and uplift you throughout July!

Don’t Let Yesterday Ruin Tomorrow

If you call on your Yesterday to shape your Tomorrow, and ignore the voice of Today,
You might be giving your past the power to destroy your future.

But if you hand over your Yesterday to Today,
You give your Tomorrow a fighting chance to shine.

Work today. Focus today. Build today.
That’s how you secure a better and glorious tomorrow.

God bless you richly as you invest in your future—Today!

#OlaitanRoyals #WisdomSpring #Lythonyx #Mawolani #RoyalThought #RoyalReflection #RoyalInspiration #ThinkForward #UseTodayWell #PurposeDriven #NoGoingBack

*The Dangers of Gossiping*

Gossiping can be a toxic habit that damages relationships, reputations, and self-esteem. It can spread negativity, create conflict, and lead to feelings of guilt and shame.

*Why We Gossip*

- To feel connected or part of a group
- To gain power or control over others
- To distract ourselves from our own problems
- To entertain or amuse others

*The Consequences*

- Damaged relationships and trust
- Hurt feelings and reputations
- Increased stress and anxiety
- Loss of credibility and respect

*Breaking the Habit*

- Practice self-awareness and recognize when you're gossiping
- Focus on positive and uplifting conversations
- Set boundaries and avoid engaging with gossip
- Cultivate empathy and kindness towards others

By being mindful of our words and actions, we can create a more positive and supportive environment for everyone.

JB WORLD

My Fellow Nigerians, and the Good People of Kebbi State,

After wide consultations and deep personal reflection, I hereby announce my resignation from the All Progressives Congress (APC) and my decision to align with the African Democratic Congress (ADC), the party of choice for our coalition — a coalition driven by the urgent need to rescue our country from further decline.

This is not a decision made out of anger or ambition, but one inspired by love for our nation and concern for the hardship our people are facing daily.

Nigeria is bleeding. Insecurity has taken over our homes, especially in the North. Banditry, kidnappings, and terrorism have become part of our lives while the government prioritizes politics over the safety of its citizens.

Our economy is in shambles. Prices of basic food items have tripled. The poor can no longer feed their families. Jobs are disappearing. Young people are hopeless. Instead of focusing on real solutions, the government is consumed by propaganda and political distractions.

Governance has been abandoned. Appointments, projects, and policies are now guided by political loyalty and not national interest. I cannot remain part of a system that watches in silence as Nigerians suffer and die.

This is why I am joining the ADC — a platform built on the values of justice, inclusion, competence, and national renewal. I believe that through this coalition and with the support of Nigerians, we can chart a new course for our beloved country.

To the people of Kebbi State, I remain your son and servant. I will never abandon you. This move is to amplify your voice, protect your interests, and restore hope to our future.

To every Nigerian, I urge you to join this movement. Let us rise above fear and reclaim our nation. Nigeria belongs to all of us.

May God bless Kebbi State. May God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

Signed,
Abubakar Malami, SAN
2nd July, 2025

10 TYPES OF WOMEN A MALE FARMER MUST AVOID
Brutal Truths Every Focused Man Needs in 2025

You don’t need witchcraft to fail — just the wrong woman in your space.
Your farm, peace, and future can be destroyed silently… if you're not discerning.

Here’s the harsh truth no one tells male farmers:

1. The Beauty Without Brains – Fine face, empty mind. Can’t support your vision.
2. The “Soft Life Only” Babe – No hustle. Just vibes and expensive taste.
3. The Forever Victim – She’ll drain your emotions, not water your dreams.
4. The Seductress – Knows your weakness, weaponizes it.
5. The Classy Gold-Digger – She’s not in love — she’s in business.
6. The Spiritually Dead – You’re sowing seeds, she’s sowing confusion.
7. Miss Entitled – Wants queen treatment, won’t lift a finger.
8. The Modern Rebel – Can’t build legacy with someone who hates structure.
9. The Ex You Won’t Delete – If she still controls your heart, your hands can’t build.
10. The Destiny Assassin – Sent to waste your time, money, and mind.

Bro, protect your purpose.
Some women aren’t partners… they’re spiritual potholes.

Think legacy. Think vision. Choose wisely.

#MaleFarmerWisdom #FarmWithFocus #AvoidDestinyKillers #AfricanFarmers #DoxaonFarmResort #FarmingAndPurpose #RealTalkForMen #GoatFarmerAfrica #AgropreneurLife

I hope you understand that someone’s success doesn’t mean that you are not succeeding.

Let’s get real, someone else’s success doesn’t diminish yours.

Just because they chose a different path or profession doesn’t mean you can’t crush it in your own field.

Think about it, Vekee James entered the Forbes list with tailoring.

What about Ngozi Okonjo Iweala?

Some people are making it well by being an entrepreneur.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie made it as a writer, like she owns the literary scene.

Plenty of people are making waves as influencers or actors.
Take Jarvis for instance (the Nigerian robot lady)

Some are making it as content creators.

Some people find success through marriage, others through business even without formal education.

The point is, there is no ‘one size fits all’ formula for success, which means that there is no single approach or method that guarantees success for everyone.

What is important is that you are doing something you love, something you can earn from and you are doing it well.

Focus on your journey, ignore the noise, the trends and the waves.

Trust in God, He is a man that can make men from nothing to something.

Stop comparing your success.

God can lift men from the very little that they are doing, just have something you are doing and be good in it.

#Lekwa princess ijeoma ✍🏾
#TheVoice

THE LAST PROMISE
PART 12
The knock on Mary’s door was loud, insistent. Boom. Boom. Boom. It vibrated through the small living room. Mary knew who it was before she looked through the peephole. Andre stood there, his face tight with anger and confusion. He looked rumpled, a small bandage stark white on his temple where she’d hit him.
For a moment, Mary froze, her hand trembling on the door chain. The image of those damning messages – "Pretend if you must," "5 million Naira," "I know my job" – flashed behind her eyes, hot and sharp. Then, a cold, hard calm settled over her. She took a deep breath, wiped any trace of emotion from her face, and opened the door.
"Andre," she said, her voice flat, devoid of warmth. "What do you want?"
"Why?" he demanded, pushing past her into the small sitting room without waiting for an invitation. He looked around, his gaze landing on Kelvin’s framed photo on the side table. "Why did you run out like that? Why didn’t you wake me? What happened?" He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers, still holding a flicker of the concern he’d perfected. "You scared me, Mary."
Mary closed the door slowly, the click echoing in the tense silence. She leaned against it for a second, gathering the storm inside her. "I needed air," she lied, her voice still unnervingly calm. She walked past him towards the small kitchen area, her movements deliberate. "Sit down, Andre."
He hesitated, watching her, a frown deepening the crease between his brows. Something was off. Her stillness was unnatural. But he sat heavily on her worn sofa, sinking into the faded Ankara fabric cushions. He ran a hand over his face, wincing slightly as he touched the bandage. "Mary, talk to me. What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?"
Mary didn’t answer immediately. She stood near the entrance to the tiny kitchen, her back to him. Her gaze fell on the heavy wooden pestle resting in its mortar on the counter. It was smooth, worn from years of pounding yam. It felt solid, heavy in her hand when she picked it up silently.
"I just..." Andre started again, shifting uncomfortably.
That was when Mary moved.
She spun around, a silent blur of fury. Andre barely had time to register her movement, to see the glint of hard determination in her eyes that was nothing like the woman he knew, before the pestle came down. THWACK. The heavy wood connected solidly with the back of his head, right next to the existing wound. His eyes rolled back, a grunt escaping his lips before he slumped forward, unconscious, sliding off the sofa onto the woven rug.
Mary stood over him, panting, the pestle still raised. Her knuckles were white around the smooth wood. She watched his chest rise and fall for a moment, ensuring he was out. Then, she dropped the pestle with a clatter that sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
She worked quickly, efficiently, fueled by a terrifying, focused rage. She dragged Andre’s limp body back onto the sofa. From a cupboard, she pulled out a coil of strong, rough rope she used for tying firewood bundles. With hands that shook only slightly, she hauled his arms behind his back and tied his wrists tightly together. She then tied his ankles together, securing the knots with brutal efficiency. Finally, she used a shorter length to tie his bound ankles to the sturdy wooden legs of the heavy armchair she then heaved him into. He slumped in the chair, head lolling to the side, the bandage stark against his skin.
Two hours crawled by. Mary sat opposite him in another chair, Kelvin’s thick leather belt coiled in her lap like a sleeping snake. She didn’t move. She barely blinked. Her eyes were fixed on Andre, cold and hard as stones. The rage hadn’t faded; it had settled into a deep, icy river flowing through her veins.
A low groan finally broke the silence. Andre stirred, his eyelids fluttering. He tried to move his arms, his legs, his brow furrowing in confusion as he encountered the rough bite of the rope. His eyes flew open, focusing blearily on Mary. Confusion turned to shock, then dawning horror as he realized his situation. He struggled against the ropes, the chair creaking.
"Mary?!" he gasped, his voice thick. "What… what is this? Untie me! What are you doing?"
Mary didn’t answer. Slowly, deliberately, she stood up. She uncoiled the leather belt, the heavy buckle dangling. The sound of the leather sliding free was ominous.
"Andre Udo," she said, her voice low, trembling not with fear, but with suppressed fury. "You have exactly five seconds to tell me the whole truth. Every single word."
"Mary, please! Untie me! This is madness! What truth?" His eyes darted around the room, wide with panic now.
"Five," Mary counted, her voice flat. She took a step closer.
"Four." Another step. The belt hung loose at her side.
"Three." She raised the belt slightly.
"Mary, stop! What do you want to know?" He was straining against the ropes, his face pale.
"Two." The buckle glinted in the light.
"ONE!"
The belt whistled through the air and cracked across his chest, right over his heart. Andre cried out, a sharp, pained sound. The thick leather bit through his shirt.
"AGH! Mary! Stop!"
"Why did Kelvin pay you?" Mary demanded, her voice rising. She raised the belt again. "THE TRUTH!"
"He… he wanted you to be happy!" Andre gasped, flinching as she drew back again. "He paid me to make sure you weren’t alone! To be your friend!"
CRACK. The belt landed on his shoulder. "LIAR!" Mary screamed. "I saw the messages! ALL OF THEM! He paid you FIVE MILLION NAIRA! To PRETEND!"
Andre recoiled, the shock of her knowing evident on his face. "Okay! Okay! Yes! He paid me! He paid me to be there for you, to make you smile, to… to help you move on!"
CRACK. This time across his arm. "Move on HOW?" Mary spat. "By making me FALL IN LOVE? Was that part of Kelvin’s grand plan? Did he pay you to SLEEP WITH ME, Andre? DID HE PAY YOU TO GET INTO MY BED?"
The question hung in the air, raw and ugly. Andre stared at her, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. Shame warred with fear in his eyes. "No!" he finally choked out. "No, Mary! Kelvin never… he never asked for that! He never paid me for that! He just said… make her feel loved. Make her happy. That’s all! He didn’t specify…"
"Didn’t SPECIFY?" Mary shrieked, the fury erupting again. She brought the belt down again and again – on his arms, his chest, his legs. *CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. Andre cried out with each blow, trying to curl away, but the ropes held him fast. Bruises were already blooming through his thin shirt. "You LIED to me! Every single day! Every touch! Every sweet word! It was all FAKE! BOUGHT AND PAID FOR!"
She paused, panting, the belt held high. Tears streamed down her face now, mixing with the sweat. "Did you EVER care? Even a little bit? Or was it ALL just a job? TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW!"
Andre slumped in the chair, defeated, broken. He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot. "It was a job," he whispered, his voice raw. "Just a job. Kelvin offered good money. A lot of money. He was desperate. I needed it. I’m sorry, Mary. I’m so sorry. But… no. I didn’t love you. I was paid to make you believe I did."
The words landed like a final, crushing blow. The cold fury surged again, hotter than ever. "Sorry?" she hissed. "SORRY?" She raised the belt with every intention of making him feel a fraction of the pain he’d caused her.
But a wave of exhaustion hit her, so profound it made her sway. The belt felt impossibly heavy. The sight of him tied up, bruised, pathetic – it wasn’t satisfying. It just made her feel hollow. Sick.
She lowered the belt, her shoulders slumping. The fight drained out of her, leaving only a vast, aching emptiness and the bitter taste of betrayal. She stumbled back, dropping the belt onto the floor with a thud. She needed someone. She needed the truth to be heard by someone else.
With trembling hands, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She scrolled through her contacts, her vision blurring. She found the number and pressed call, lifting the phone to her ear.
"Aunty Biola?" Her voice was a broken whisper, thick with tears. "Aunty Biola, please… please come to my house. Now. It’s urgent. It’s about Kelvin… and Andre. Just… please come. Hurry."
She ended the call and sank to her knees on the rug, facing Andre but not seeing him. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly, silent sobs shaking her body. The storm had passed, leaving only devastation in its wake. The rope marks on Andre’s skin, the discarded belt, and Mary’s shattered form were the only evidence of the terrible reckoning that had just unfolded. The silence that followed was heavier than any blow.
TO BE CONTINUED...