• The Ant That Eats the Leaf Stays on the Leaf

    In life, just like in nature, there are silent rules we sometimes forget. When an ant chooses to feed on the very leaf that holds it up, it unknowingly ties its fate to that fragile support. The more it eats, the weaker the leaf becomes, and eventually, both fall together.

    This teaches us that when we harm the very things or people that support us — whether it’s trust, relationships, opportunities, or the environment — we endanger ourselves. Short-term gain blinds us to the long-term collapse. True wisdom is recognizing that what sustains us deserves our care, not our careless consumption.

    To survive, and to thrive, we must honor the foundations beneath us.

    #WisdomTales #Liferealities
    The Ant That Eats the Leaf Stays on the Leaf In life, just like in nature, there are silent rules we sometimes forget. When an ant chooses to feed on the very leaf that holds it up, it unknowingly ties its fate to that fragile support. The more it eats, the weaker the leaf becomes, and eventually, both fall together. This teaches us that when we harm the very things or people that support us — whether it’s trust, relationships, opportunities, or the environment — we endanger ourselves. Short-term gain blinds us to the long-term collapse. True wisdom is recognizing that what sustains us deserves our care, not our careless consumption. To survive, and to thrive, we must honor the foundations beneath us. #WisdomTales #Liferealities
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  • Men, your value increase as you become more dangerous

    Here are 15 rules DANGEROUS MEN must obey.

    Masculinity thread:

    1. Stop Helping Everyone
    Reality is you cannot help everyone.

    You can bring horse to the water, but you can never make the horse drink.

    2. BE RADICALLY HONEST

    Everyone can be honest.

    But can you be if you are facing risk of humiliation, embarrassment and shame?

    Or if it offends others?

    Dangerous men DO NOT give a f*ck.

    3. BE EXTREMELY MASCULINE

    The world is having too many demasculinized men.

    Being extremely masculine today is like half the masculine 5000 years ago.

    4. SAY NO TO WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY NO

    Life is not about pleasing everyone you know.

    You are in full responsibility of your life.

    Take care of yourself first.

    6. STAY 100% TRUE TO YOUR BELIEFS AND VALUES.

    If you care about something, fight for it.

    Don't be afraid.

    Live with full of integrity

    7. BE RUTHLESS IN THE PURSUIT OF YOUR GOALS AND PURPOSE.

    Your purpose makes you a valuable man.

    It's meant to make you driven and powerful.

    8. STOP WASTING TIME ON BS

    There's too much bs going on like how the will smith smacked the sh*t out of chris rock.

    Stop wasting your time on non-sensical drama.

    9. FORM POWERFUL CONNECTIONS.

    Learn to be confident and develop massive social skills.

    The lone wolf dies.

    The pack lives. I don't make the rules.

    10. PICK A SKILL AND BE VERY GOOD AT IT

    There's a famous restaurant in Italy that only serves macaroni.

    But it's the best restaurant in town. Why?

    Because they are specialised in making the best macaroni.

    12. BE GOOD TO YOURSELF

    If there's anything you won't do to your own child, don't do it to yourself.

    Don't say bad things to yourself because you won't do it to your child

    13. DON'T DO ANYTHING IN SECRET

    Losers think their purpose in cringe.

    Dangerous men don't give a f*ck

    They know what they want, and they are proud of it.

    14. NEVER PUT ALL HOPE ON ONE WOMAN

    Stop texting her all day like she's the only one.

    You are better than that.

    15. STOP TRYING TO CONTROL EVERYTHING

    Life is life. Stop trying to make it the way you wanted 100% of the time.

    Sh*t happens, and it will keep on happening.

    Let go, let life happen.

    Do what's right diplomatically,because sometimes you may be wrong.
    Always spend some time with yourself. Especially before sleeping, just close your eyes and think about what you've done in the past and what your goals are in the future, not being stressed, but calmly think about yourself.
    Men, your value increase as you become more dangerous Here are 15 rules DANGEROUS MEN must obey. Masculinity thread: 1. Stop Helping Everyone Reality is you cannot help everyone. You can bring horse to the water, but you can never make the horse drink. 2. BE RADICALLY HONEST Everyone can be honest. But can you be if you are facing risk of humiliation, embarrassment and shame? Or if it offends others? Dangerous men DO NOT give a f*ck. 3. BE EXTREMELY MASCULINE The world is having too many demasculinized men. Being extremely masculine today is like half the masculine 5000 years ago. 4. SAY NO TO WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY NO Life is not about pleasing everyone you know. You are in full responsibility of your life. Take care of yourself first. 6. STAY 100% TRUE TO YOUR BELIEFS AND VALUES. If you care about something, fight for it. Don't be afraid. Live with full of integrity 7. BE RUTHLESS IN THE PURSUIT OF YOUR GOALS AND PURPOSE. Your purpose makes you a valuable man. It's meant to make you driven and powerful. 8. STOP WASTING TIME ON BS There's too much bs going on like how the will smith smacked the sh*t out of chris rock. Stop wasting your time on non-sensical drama. 9. FORM POWERFUL CONNECTIONS. Learn to be confident and develop massive social skills. The lone wolf dies. The pack lives. I don't make the rules. 10. PICK A SKILL AND BE VERY GOOD AT IT There's a famous restaurant in Italy that only serves macaroni. But it's the best restaurant in town. Why? Because they are specialised in making the best macaroni. 12. BE GOOD TO YOURSELF If there's anything you won't do to your own child, don't do it to yourself. Don't say bad things to yourself because you won't do it to your child 13. DON'T DO ANYTHING IN SECRET Losers think their purpose in cringe. Dangerous men don't give a f*ck They know what they want, and they are proud of it. 14. NEVER PUT ALL HOPE ON ONE WOMAN Stop texting her all day like she's the only one. You are better than that. 15. STOP TRYING TO CONTROL EVERYTHING Life is life. Stop trying to make it the way you wanted 100% of the time. Sh*t happens, and it will keep on happening. Let go, let life happen. Do what's right diplomatically,because sometimes you may be wrong. Always spend some time with yourself. Especially before sleeping, just close your eyes and think about what you've done in the past and what your goals are in the future, not being stressed, but calmly think about yourself.
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  • Part 1:

    As he sat down, waiting for his lawyers and his children’s lawyer to hear his final testament, Mr. HackEarth reflected on all his life-long escapades. Despite the billions he had accrued, they mattered little to him now. He was too old and feeble to enjoy any of it. And now, here he was, about to divide his money to his ungrateful children and ex-wives.

    The thought of how his children had gone wayward and disappointing hurts him more. His children were greedy and extravagant. They hold no love for Old Hackman except for his money. He knows it too well and He despised all of them, and he was ready to punish them one last time before setting his plans in motion.

    The lawyers from both parties were seated in Mr. HackEarth’s exquisite and luxurious office on the 40th floor of his favorite glass skyscraper. Camcorders were set up to document the entire proceeding.

    Mr. Date, HackEarth’s personal secretary of over 30 years, gently wheeled him toward where the lawyers were seated.

    Papers shifted from one lawyer to another. Subtle whispers filled the room, and carefully restrained laughter warmly expressed. His children and ex-wives watched from various conference rooms, leaping with joy as they saw their father wheeled in—anticipating the final testament that would make them rich.

    The psychiatrists arrived to examine Mr. HackEarth’s testamentary capacity, verifying whether he was fit to sign a will that will dispose of his assets upon his death. Everything checked out with the old man. His children’s lawyers were satisfied. Greedy lawyers waiting to charge big fee from their clients.

    Mr. Stafford brought in a huge stack of documents and laid them carefully on the table. The children, slouched in their chairs, watched keenly, their spirits high as they observed everything being telecasted live to them.

    Mr. HackEarth pulled a pen from his breast pocket and began scribbling something before signing it. He handed the document to Mr. Stafford, then ordered everyone to leave the room—except for his secretary and his lawyers, Mr. Stafford and his associate, Mr. Weller. The live telecast ended abruptly.

    He then produced a single sheet of paper, on which was boldly written:

    "I, John HackEarth, Having been determined that I am of sound mind to declare my will, I hereby revoke all wills and codicils executed by me and dispose of my estate as follows. To my children, I leave a sum of money sufficient only to pay off their existing debts—with no provision for any new debts incurred after today. Should any of my children attempt to contest this will, they shall thereby forfeit any gift herein. To my ex-wives, I leave nothing, as they were adequately provided for during our divorces.

    I hereby bequeath the remainder of my estate to my daughter, Lynne, born to Joycelin Camel. I appoint my lawyer, James Stafford as executor of this will and grant him broad discretion in its administration ."

    He signed it, sealed it in an envelope, and handed it to Stafford.

    Then, with all his might, Mr. HackEarth leaped from his wheelchair and staggered toward the windows. Everyone in the room was stunned to see Old Hackman on his feet for the first time in three years. They froze, unsure how to react to his sudden movement. Instinctively, Mr. Date lunged forward to stop him—but before he could reach him, Old Hackman slid open the window and hurled himself forward.

    The lawyers rushed to the window just in time to see Mr. HackEarth’s body plummet to the ground below. He was dead.


    Part 2: Coming soon.
    Summarized by: Reindolf J. Botchway

    Disclaimer: This is my personal summary of an excerpt from The Testament
    by John Grisham—a story I found so gripping, I had to share! To avoid spoilers and add my own flair, I tweaked some details, changed character names, and sprinkled in a twist or two based on my interpretation. The core plot belongs to the brilliant John Grisham, so credit where it’s due!
    Part 1: As he sat down, waiting for his lawyers and his children’s lawyer to hear his final testament, Mr. HackEarth reflected on all his life-long escapades. Despite the billions he had accrued, they mattered little to him now. He was too old and feeble to enjoy any of it. And now, here he was, about to divide his money to his ungrateful children and ex-wives. The thought of how his children had gone wayward and disappointing hurts him more. His children were greedy and extravagant. They hold no love for Old Hackman except for his money. He knows it too well and He despised all of them, and he was ready to punish them one last time before setting his plans in motion. The lawyers from both parties were seated in Mr. HackEarth’s exquisite and luxurious office on the 40th floor of his favorite glass skyscraper. Camcorders were set up to document the entire proceeding. Mr. Date, HackEarth’s personal secretary of over 30 years, gently wheeled him toward where the lawyers were seated. Papers shifted from one lawyer to another. Subtle whispers filled the room, and carefully restrained laughter warmly expressed. His children and ex-wives watched from various conference rooms, leaping with joy as they saw their father wheeled in—anticipating the final testament that would make them rich. The psychiatrists arrived to examine Mr. HackEarth’s testamentary capacity, verifying whether he was fit to sign a will that will dispose of his assets upon his death. Everything checked out with the old man. His children’s lawyers were satisfied. Greedy lawyers waiting to charge big fee from their clients. Mr. Stafford brought in a huge stack of documents and laid them carefully on the table. The children, slouched in their chairs, watched keenly, their spirits high as they observed everything being telecasted live to them. Mr. HackEarth pulled a pen from his breast pocket and began scribbling something before signing it. He handed the document to Mr. Stafford, then ordered everyone to leave the room—except for his secretary and his lawyers, Mr. Stafford and his associate, Mr. Weller. The live telecast ended abruptly. He then produced a single sheet of paper, on which was boldly written: "I, John HackEarth, Having been determined that I am of sound mind to declare my will, I hereby revoke all wills and codicils executed by me and dispose of my estate as follows. To my children, I leave a sum of money sufficient only to pay off their existing debts—with no provision for any new debts incurred after today. Should any of my children attempt to contest this will, they shall thereby forfeit any gift herein. To my ex-wives, I leave nothing, as they were adequately provided for during our divorces. I hereby bequeath the remainder of my estate to my daughter, Lynne, born to Joycelin Camel. I appoint my lawyer, James Stafford as executor of this will and grant him broad discretion in its administration ." He signed it, sealed it in an envelope, and handed it to Stafford. Then, with all his might, Mr. HackEarth leaped from his wheelchair and staggered toward the windows. Everyone in the room was stunned to see Old Hackman on his feet for the first time in three years. They froze, unsure how to react to his sudden movement. Instinctively, Mr. Date lunged forward to stop him—but before he could reach him, Old Hackman slid open the window and hurled himself forward. The lawyers rushed to the window just in time to see Mr. HackEarth’s body plummet to the ground below. He was dead. Part 2: Coming soon. Summarized by: Reindolf J. Botchway Disclaimer: This is my personal summary of an excerpt from The Testament by John Grisham—a story I found so gripping, I had to share! To avoid spoilers and add my own flair, I tweaked some details, changed character names, and sprinkled in a twist or two based on my interpretation. The core plot belongs to the brilliant John Grisham, so credit where it’s due!
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  • Did you know that at the time of his death, Pope Francis’s reported personal wealth was just $100—that’s barely ₦154,000 in today’s exchange rate?

    He owned no property, held no personal bank accounts, and had no investments anywhere in the world.

    Although he was entitled to an annual salary of about 340,000 euros (approximately $364,000 or ₦560 million at today's exchange rate), he never accepted a cent of it.

    As a member of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), Pope Francis took a lifelong vow of poverty—and he remained true to it until the very end of his pontificate.

    For the 12 years he served as Pope, he lived in Room 201 of Casa Santa Marta, a simple guesthouse within the Vatican.

    Today is Sunday. Look around: what wristwatches are some of your pastors wearing? What cars are they driving into church?

    The real wealth of a spiritual leader is not in material possessions, luxury cars, private jets, or designer suits. It is in humility, service, and sacrificial love for humanity.

    Pope Francis left behind a powerful legacy:
    He showed that true greatness is found not in what you have, but in what you give up for others.

    The world doesn't need more celebrity pastors; it needs more humble servants of God.

    I agree with this one
    Did you know that at the time of his death, Pope Francis’s reported personal wealth was just $100—that’s barely ₦154,000 in today’s exchange rate? He owned no property, held no personal bank accounts, and had no investments anywhere in the world. Although he was entitled to an annual salary of about 340,000 euros (approximately $364,000 or ₦560 million at today's exchange rate), he never accepted a cent of it. As a member of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), Pope Francis took a lifelong vow of poverty—and he remained true to it until the very end of his pontificate. For the 12 years he served as Pope, he lived in Room 201 of Casa Santa Marta, a simple guesthouse within the Vatican. Today is Sunday. Look around: what wristwatches are some of your pastors wearing? What cars are they driving into church? The real wealth of a spiritual leader is not in material possessions, luxury cars, private jets, or designer suits. It is in humility, service, and sacrificial love for humanity. Pope Francis left behind a powerful legacy: He showed that true greatness is found not in what you have, but in what you give up for others. The world doesn't need more celebrity pastors; it needs more humble servants of God. I agree with this one 💯
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  • Burkina Faso replies US General for saying Ibrahim Traore is using gold reserves for his personal gains

    The Burkinabè government isn’t here for any w,ild allegations.

    They’ve just clapped back at US AFRICOM Commander General Michael Langley after he boldly claimed during a US Senate hearing that Burkina Faso’s gold revenue is being used to prop up its military-led government — and not to serve the people.

    Langley didn’t hold back. “Captain Traoré in Burkina Faso… their gold reserves are just in exchange to protect the junta regime,” he said.

    But Burkina Faso said: Nah, that’s not it.

    In a statement dated April 16, the country’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs called the claims “regrettable” and “gravely inaccurate,” warning that such comments distort the real picture on the ground and undermine the credibility of its leadership.

    They slammed the general for making “sweeping claims without evidence” and for ignoring their recent efforts to fight corruption, promote transparency, and fairly distribute national wealth.
    Burkina Faso replies US General for saying Ibrahim Traore is using gold reserves for his personal gains The Burkinabè government isn’t here for any w,ild allegations. They’ve just clapped back at US AFRICOM Commander General Michael Langley after he boldly claimed during a US Senate hearing that Burkina Faso’s gold revenue is being used to prop up its military-led government — and not to serve the people. Langley didn’t hold back. “Captain Traoré in Burkina Faso… their gold reserves are just in exchange to protect the junta regime,” he said. But Burkina Faso said: Nah, that’s not it. In a statement dated April 16, the country’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs called the claims “regrettable” and “gravely inaccurate,” warning that such comments distort the real picture on the ground and undermine the credibility of its leadership. They slammed the general for making “sweeping claims without evidence” and for ignoring their recent efforts to fight corruption, promote transparency, and fairly distribute national wealth.
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  • Millionaire singer Bon Jovi isn't just known for his iconic music — he's also making a powerful difference in the real world. He's opened 3 restaurants that serve free meals to the homeless and those in need.

    No prices on the menu. No judgment. Just good food and kindness.
    It's called Soul Kitchen — where dignity, compassion, and community come first.

    Proof that real heroes don't always wear capes… sometimes they wear leather jackets and play guitars.

    Much respect, Jon Bon Jovi.
    Millionaire singer Bon Jovi isn't just known for his iconic music — he's also making a powerful difference in the real world. He's opened 3 restaurants that serve free meals to the homeless and those in need. 🙏🍽️ No prices on the menu. No judgment. Just good food and kindness. It's called Soul Kitchen — where dignity, compassion, and community come first. ❤️ Proof that real heroes don't always wear capes… sometimes they wear leather jackets and play guitars. 🎸✨ Much respect, Jon Bon Jovi. 👏
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  • "YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A WIFE, NOT A GUEST!" MY HUSBAND SH0UTED WHEN I REFUSED TO COOK FOR HIS FAMILY

    “And my opinion doesn’t matter to anyone?” Natasha said, placing the dustpan back on the shelf as she turned to her husband. There was pain in her voice. “I’m a person too, Lucifer. I’m tired.”

    “You must remember you’re a wife, not a guest!” Lucifer barked, his face reddening with anger. “You have responsibilities to the family!”

    Natasha tapped her fingers on the countertop, watching as the kettle began to bubble, filling the kitchen with steam. The Sunday morning air was unusually quiet, as though the world had decided to grant her a brief reprieve. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, gently illuminating every corner, every speck of dust. For a moment, she simply stood there, soaking in the rare stillness.

    Five years ago, when Lucifer and Natasha had moved into the apartment, its walls were bare, the décor minimal. Now, every corner radiated warmth and comfort. She remembered the time spent choosing the perfect wallpaper for the living room, the endless debates with Lucifer over the color of the curtains, and the joy she felt when she finally found the ideal sofa.

    “Good morning,” Lucifer greeted sleepily as he shuffled into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”

    “Omelet with mushrooms and tomatoes,” Natasha said with a smile, pulling ingredients from the fridge. “And some fresh coffee.”

    Lucifer approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

    “You really are the mistress of the house, aren’t you?” he remarked in a tone that immediately put Natasha on guard. Something about his voice hinted at an ulterior motive.

    “What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.

    “Nothing in particular,” Lucifer replied, looking away. “It’s just that my mother and Katherine plan to drop by. Just for lunch.”

    Natasha exhaled sharply. “Just for a little while” in Lucifer’s family often stretched into long hours. She clenched her fists, fighting to keep her frustration from showing.

    “What time will they arrive?” she asked, her voice already laced with tension.

    “Around one or two,” Lucifer said, pausing before adding, “and… Katherine will bring the kids.”

    Natasha silently counted to ten. Katherine’s six-year-old twins were more than mischievous—they were miniature hurricanes. After their visits, the apartment always resembled the aftermath of a war zone.

    “Fine,” Natasha said, grabbing a frying pan and turning on the stove. “I suppose I’ll have to dash to the store—there’s not enough food.”

    “Honey, you know how much my mother loves your dishes,” Lucifer said, trying to pull her into an embrace. But Natasha sidestepped, pretending not to notice.

    Victoria Demson, Lucifer’s mother, never missed an opportunity to critique Natasha’s cooking. Sometimes the soup was too salty, sometimes the meat undercooked, and sometimes the salad was labeled too bland.

    By two o’clock, the apartment sparkled with cleanliness. In the oven, a casserole of potatoes and meat roasted, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma. In the fridge sat the cake that Victoria adored, waiting to be served.

    The doorbell rang at precisely 14:15. Natasha adjusted her apron and went to answer.

    “Niku-sha!” Victoria Demson burst into the hallway like a whirlwind, her coat trailing behind her. “How are you, dear?”

    Katherine followed closely, her twins charging into the living room without removing their shoes.

    “Kids, shoes!” Natasha called out sharply.

    “Oh, let them be,” Victoria interjected, waving her hand dismissively. “You know how hard it is for them to sit still.”

    Natasha pressed her lips together, watching dirty footprints streak across her light carpet. Every time, she wondered why no one taught them to remove their shoes, but she kept her thoughts to herself. No one listened anyway.

    “What’s for lunch?” Katherine asked, stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, casserole? Mom, remember the one I made last week with mushrooms? It was a masterpiece!”

    “Of course I do, sweetheart,” Victoria said with a smile, settling at the table. “Niku-sha, you could learn a thing or two from Katherine. She has such a talent for cooking.”

    Natasha stayed silent, methodically arranging the c:u:tlery. From the living room, a cra$h echoed—something had fallen to the floor.

    “Lucifer, can you see what your nephews have done?” Natasha said calmly.

    “Oh, come on,” Lucifer replied dismissively, not even looking up. “Let them play—they’re just kids.”

    “Exactly!” Victoria chimed in. “Niku-sha, you’re so proper. Everything has to be perfect with you.”

    “I just like order,” Natasha replied softly.

    “There should be life in a home!” Victoria declared loudly. “You’re always fussing over cleanliness, Niku-sha. Imagine if you had kids—you’d be chasing them with a rag all day!”

    Natasha felt her cheeks b:u:rn. The topic of children was a raw one—after two failed pregnancies, doctors had advised her to wait before trying again. She sw@ll0wed the words b:u:rning on her t0ngue and stayed silent.

    Lunch unfolded in the same ve!n. Victoria offered unsolicited advice, Katherine boasted about her culinary skills, and the twins left a trail of cha0s throughout the apartment. Lucifer sat back, seemingly enjoying the lively atmosphere, oblivious to the growing tension in Natasha.

    “You know, Niku-sha,” Victoria said, finishing her second slice of cake, “Katherine and I were thinking—maybe we should gather at your place every Sunday? Your kitchen is so spacious, and you cook… well, with soul.”

    SEE THE CONTINUATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW!
    "YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A WIFE, NOT A GUEST!" MY HUSBAND SH0UTED WHEN I REFUSED TO COOK FOR HIS FAMILY “And my opinion doesn’t matter to anyone?” Natasha said, placing the dustpan back on the shelf as she turned to her husband. There was pain in her voice. “I’m a person too, Lucifer. I’m tired.” “You must remember you’re a wife, not a guest!” Lucifer barked, his face reddening with anger. “You have responsibilities to the family!” Natasha tapped her fingers on the countertop, watching as the kettle began to bubble, filling the kitchen with steam. The Sunday morning air was unusually quiet, as though the world had decided to grant her a brief reprieve. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, gently illuminating every corner, every speck of dust. For a moment, she simply stood there, soaking in the rare stillness. Five years ago, when Lucifer and Natasha had moved into the apartment, its walls were bare, the décor minimal. Now, every corner radiated warmth and comfort. She remembered the time spent choosing the perfect wallpaper for the living room, the endless debates with Lucifer over the color of the curtains, and the joy she felt when she finally found the ideal sofa. “Good morning,” Lucifer greeted sleepily as he shuffled into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?” “Omelet with mushrooms and tomatoes,” Natasha said with a smile, pulling ingredients from the fridge. “And some fresh coffee.” Lucifer approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “You really are the mistress of the house, aren’t you?” he remarked in a tone that immediately put Natasha on guard. Something about his voice hinted at an ulterior motive. “What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes. “Nothing in particular,” Lucifer replied, looking away. “It’s just that my mother and Katherine plan to drop by. Just for lunch.” Natasha exhaled sharply. “Just for a little while” in Lucifer’s family often stretched into long hours. She clenched her fists, fighting to keep her frustration from showing. “What time will they arrive?” she asked, her voice already laced with tension. “Around one or two,” Lucifer said, pausing before adding, “and… Katherine will bring the kids.” Natasha silently counted to ten. Katherine’s six-year-old twins were more than mischievous—they were miniature hurricanes. After their visits, the apartment always resembled the aftermath of a war zone. “Fine,” Natasha said, grabbing a frying pan and turning on the stove. “I suppose I’ll have to dash to the store—there’s not enough food.” “Honey, you know how much my mother loves your dishes,” Lucifer said, trying to pull her into an embrace. But Natasha sidestepped, pretending not to notice. Victoria Demson, Lucifer’s mother, never missed an opportunity to critique Natasha’s cooking. Sometimes the soup was too salty, sometimes the meat undercooked, and sometimes the salad was labeled too bland. By two o’clock, the apartment sparkled with cleanliness. In the oven, a casserole of potatoes and meat roasted, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma. In the fridge sat the cake that Victoria adored, waiting to be served. The doorbell rang at precisely 14:15. Natasha adjusted her apron and went to answer. “Niku-sha!” Victoria Demson burst into the hallway like a whirlwind, her coat trailing behind her. “How are you, dear?” Katherine followed closely, her twins charging into the living room without removing their shoes. “Kids, shoes!” Natasha called out sharply. “Oh, let them be,” Victoria interjected, waving her hand dismissively. “You know how hard it is for them to sit still.” Natasha pressed her lips together, watching dirty footprints streak across her light carpet. Every time, she wondered why no one taught them to remove their shoes, but she kept her thoughts to herself. No one listened anyway. “What’s for lunch?” Katherine asked, stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, casserole? Mom, remember the one I made last week with mushrooms? It was a masterpiece!” “Of course I do, sweetheart,” Victoria said with a smile, settling at the table. “Niku-sha, you could learn a thing or two from Katherine. She has such a talent for cooking.” Natasha stayed silent, methodically arranging the c:u:tlery. From the living room, a cra$h echoed—something had fallen to the floor. “Lucifer, can you see what your nephews have done?” Natasha said calmly. “Oh, come on,” Lucifer replied dismissively, not even looking up. “Let them play—they’re just kids.” “Exactly!” Victoria chimed in. “Niku-sha, you’re so proper. Everything has to be perfect with you.” “I just like order,” Natasha replied softly. “There should be life in a home!” Victoria declared loudly. “You’re always fussing over cleanliness, Niku-sha. Imagine if you had kids—you’d be chasing them with a rag all day!” Natasha felt her cheeks b:u:rn. The topic of children was a raw one—after two failed pregnancies, doctors had advised her to wait before trying again. She sw@ll0wed the words b:u:rning on her t0ngue and stayed silent. Lunch unfolded in the same ve!n. Victoria offered unsolicited advice, Katherine boasted about her culinary skills, and the twins left a trail of cha0s throughout the apartment. Lucifer sat back, seemingly enjoying the lively atmosphere, oblivious to the growing tension in Natasha. “You know, Niku-sha,” Victoria said, finishing her second slice of cake, “Katherine and I were thinking—maybe we should gather at your place every Sunday? Your kitchen is so spacious, and you cook… well, with soul.” SEE THE CONTINUATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW! ⬇️⬇️
    0 Reacties 0 aandelen 124 Views 0 voorbeeld
  • USA General, Michael Langley is facing criticism for accusing Burkina Faso's President, Ibrahim Traore, of using the country's gold reserves to protect himself.
    USA General, Michael Langley is facing criticism for accusing Burkina Faso's President, Ibrahim Traore, of using the country's gold reserves to protect himself.
    0 Reacties 0 aandelen 74 Views 0 voorbeeld
  • "The end of law is not to abolish or restrain but to preserve and enlarge freedom" - John Locke
    "The end of law is not to abolish or restrain but to preserve and enlarge freedom" - John Locke
    0 Reacties 0 aandelen 80 Views 0 voorbeeld
  • 25th April, 2025

    His Excellency,
    Rt. Hon. (Elder) Sheriff F.O. Oborevwori,
    The Executive Governor,
    Delta State, Nigeria.

    Your Excellency,

    LETTER OF RESIGNATION FROM THE POSITION OF SENIOR SPECIAL ASSISTANT ON CIVIL SOCIETY'S AND NGOs

    With deep reflection, a heavy heart, and unwavering love for the people of Delta State, I, Comrade Victor Ojei, popularly called Wong Box, hereby tender my resignation as Senior Special Assistant to the Governor on Civil Societies and NGOs, effective from 25th April, 2025, marking the end of my tenure which began on the 2nd of August, 2023.

    When I accepted the appointment, it was with burning hope — a hope to bridge the gap between government and the grassroots, to be a voice for the voiceless, to inspire change not just from the corridors of power but from the trenches where our people cry daily for justice, development, and a better life.

    I did not join politics to wine and dine. I joined PDP and accepted this role with only one ambition: to fight for the ordinary Deltan through Activism, Advocacy, and Developmental partnerships that would uplift our land from the scars of neglect and political promises into genuine prosperity. But I was limited by the very system I sought to strengthen.

    Every single effort to attract international developmental partners, NGOs, and innovation was stalled and dumped into KIV (Keep In View). What should have been a movement for progress became a standstill. Projects that could have sparked industrial revolutions, brought jobs to the unemployed, and put food in the mouths of widows and orphans were met with silence.

    Where are the economic projects that bring money into the hands of ordinary people? Where is the non-kinetic security architecture we so passionately advocated for — the use of AI-driven CCTV in ungoverned spaces of our state to protect lives and property?

    From 1999 to date, not one tangible thing comes into the pocket of the average Deltan monthly. Not one policy guarantees their safety. Not one hope touches their roof. This cannot continue — and I refuse to be part of a system that watches our people drown and claps instead of rescuing them.

    To your credit, Your Excellency, I thank you for the opportunity to serve. I did not take it lightly. I tried with every drop of energy I had — we established the Save Delta State Security WhatsApp Platform with key stakeholders: police, DSS, hunters, youth leaders, PGs of communities, and more. We gave our best, and we are still giving our best — but a tree cannot make a forest when starved of rain.

    What we need is political will. If the state must take loans, let it be to protect lives. Let it be to bring technology to our streets, especially those forgotten in the rural ends of our beloved Delta.

    I want to state clearly: I will not cross carpet from PDP to APC. I am not a politician; I am a socio-political activist. I stand with truth and with the people, not with the highest bidder.

    Yes, I admired President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for his bold reforms as Governor of Lagos State. But this new path — this aggressive political conversion of PDP states into APC strongholds — is dangerous. It is pushing Nigeria toward a one-party system, which PDP never did during their time from 1999 to 2015.

    The birth of APC itself was possible because the PDP government then allowed political plurality. That era was the best of Nigeria’s democracy. Democracy is not democracy when power is gained by manipulation. That is not democracy; that is voodoo governance.

    I will never toy with the destiny of the people of Delta State. My loyalty lies with them, not with any party or position. I will continue to speak, to act, and to defend the people whether in office or outside it.

    I may have resigned the position, but I have not resigned my passion. I have not resigned from Delta State. I have not resigned from the hearts of the people. And I know that the people who know the truth will one day rise to give me a chance to truly serve them without chains.

    Let it be known that Comrade Victor Ojei (Wong Box) stood when others bowed. That I chose the people, even when the palace doors were open.

    May God bless Delta State.
    May He bless the dreams of every suffering Deltan.
    And may He give us the courage to fight for a better tomorrow.

    With a broken heart but a clear conscience,
    I remain,

    Comrade Victor Ojei (Wong Box)
    Former SSA on Civil Societies & NGOs
    Lead Activist, Young Nigerian Rights
    25th April, 2025 His Excellency, Rt. Hon. (Elder) Sheriff F.O. Oborevwori, The Executive Governor, Delta State, Nigeria. Your Excellency, LETTER OF RESIGNATION FROM THE POSITION OF SENIOR SPECIAL ASSISTANT ON CIVIL SOCIETY'S AND NGOs With deep reflection, a heavy heart, and unwavering love for the people of Delta State, I, Comrade Victor Ojei, popularly called Wong Box, hereby tender my resignation as Senior Special Assistant to the Governor on Civil Societies and NGOs, effective from 25th April, 2025, marking the end of my tenure which began on the 2nd of August, 2023. When I accepted the appointment, it was with burning hope — a hope to bridge the gap between government and the grassroots, to be a voice for the voiceless, to inspire change not just from the corridors of power but from the trenches where our people cry daily for justice, development, and a better life. I did not join politics to wine and dine. I joined PDP and accepted this role with only one ambition: to fight for the ordinary Deltan through Activism, Advocacy, and Developmental partnerships that would uplift our land from the scars of neglect and political promises into genuine prosperity. But I was limited by the very system I sought to strengthen. Every single effort to attract international developmental partners, NGOs, and innovation was stalled and dumped into KIV (Keep In View). What should have been a movement for progress became a standstill. Projects that could have sparked industrial revolutions, brought jobs to the unemployed, and put food in the mouths of widows and orphans were met with silence. Where are the economic projects that bring money into the hands of ordinary people? Where is the non-kinetic security architecture we so passionately advocated for — the use of AI-driven CCTV in ungoverned spaces of our state to protect lives and property? From 1999 to date, not one tangible thing comes into the pocket of the average Deltan monthly. Not one policy guarantees their safety. Not one hope touches their roof. This cannot continue — and I refuse to be part of a system that watches our people drown and claps instead of rescuing them. To your credit, Your Excellency, I thank you for the opportunity to serve. I did not take it lightly. I tried with every drop of energy I had — we established the Save Delta State Security WhatsApp Platform with key stakeholders: police, DSS, hunters, youth leaders, PGs of communities, and more. We gave our best, and we are still giving our best — but a tree cannot make a forest when starved of rain. What we need is political will. If the state must take loans, let it be to protect lives. Let it be to bring technology to our streets, especially those forgotten in the rural ends of our beloved Delta. I want to state clearly: I will not cross carpet from PDP to APC. I am not a politician; I am a socio-political activist. I stand with truth and with the people, not with the highest bidder. Yes, I admired President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for his bold reforms as Governor of Lagos State. But this new path — this aggressive political conversion of PDP states into APC strongholds — is dangerous. It is pushing Nigeria toward a one-party system, which PDP never did during their time from 1999 to 2015. The birth of APC itself was possible because the PDP government then allowed political plurality. That era was the best of Nigeria’s democracy. Democracy is not democracy when power is gained by manipulation. That is not democracy; that is voodoo governance. I will never toy with the destiny of the people of Delta State. My loyalty lies with them, not with any party or position. I will continue to speak, to act, and to defend the people whether in office or outside it. I may have resigned the position, but I have not resigned my passion. I have not resigned from Delta State. I have not resigned from the hearts of the people. And I know that the people who know the truth will one day rise to give me a chance to truly serve them without chains. Let it be known that Comrade Victor Ojei (Wong Box) stood when others bowed. That I chose the people, even when the palace doors were open. May God bless Delta State. May He bless the dreams of every suffering Deltan. And may He give us the courage to fight for a better tomorrow. With a broken heart but a clear conscience, I remain, Comrade Victor Ojei (Wong Box) Former SSA on Civil Societies & NGOs Lead Activist, Young Nigerian Rights
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  • “We will mine our gold ourselves not for France, but for our people!” – Captain Ibrahim Traore.

    The Burkina Faso leader has told the Western world, especially France, that they wouldn’t be given the chance to temper with gold reserves in the country again. He also built a gold refinery to process its gold rather than taking it to the West.

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    “We will mine our gold ourselves not for France, but for our people!” – Captain Ibrahim Traore. The Burkina Faso leader has told the Western world, especially France, that they wouldn’t be given the chance to temper with gold reserves in the country again. He also built a gold refinery to process its gold rather than taking it to the West. Details: https://celebritiesnewsbuzz.cbgist.com/latest-news/we-will-mine-our-gold-ourselves-not-for-france-but-for-our-people-captain-ibrahim-traore/13285/
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