Meet Professor who sells vegetables
23rd June 2025

Professor Nasir Hassan-Wagini of Biology Department, Umaru Musa Yar’adua University, Katsina, who produces and sells vegetables, has advised students and youths to key into small businesses rather than wait for white-collar jobs.

Hassan-Wagini advised on Monday in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria at a weekly market in Batsari, Katsina state, where he sells the produce.

*"He shall deliver thee in six troubles: yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee.In famine he shall redeem thee from death: and in war from the power of the sword."*
_Job 5:19 - 20_

I welcome you to this new day and new week, it shall be your day and week of fulfillment in Jesus' Name. The Lord will keep you from all trouble and He will not allow evil to touch you in Jesus' Name. Premature death shall not be your portion and famine will be far away from you. Jehovah Sabbaoth - the Lord of Host will deliver you from war in Jesus' Name. Amen.
As the Grace and Mercy of God has counted you worthy to be among the living this morning, the same Grace and Mercy will place you among the recipient and glory of His Presence. He will protect you and bless you with all good blessings. The Lord will cause all the people that have been threatening you in any capacity to lose their relevance. Their weapon of threat will become obsolete, and the Lord will deliver you through an object that will humiliate them and make you their lord. The Lord will make you have peace and stabilise you in the place of threat in Jesus' Mighty Name. Amen.
This week, the Lord will command the wind of Favour to rise from all corners of the earth and locate you and your family for good. By His Grace, you will dig and always find water. You will plant and reap plenty. God will open His doors of opportunities unto you and your household. The presence of the Lord shall be upon you and His hands of Love shall uphold you for good in Jesus' Name. Amen.

*Have A Greati Monday And Fruitful Week. God bless you. AMEN.*

_GOOD AFTERNOON.

I WAS ERASED BY MY OWN SISTER
PART 7
The rain poured heavily as Nneka stumbled through the streets, her bare feet bruised and bleeding, her hospital scrubs soaked through. She had no money, no phone—nothing but the burning will to survive.
With the last of her strength, she knocked on a familiar door.
Amanda’s house.
When the door opened, Amanda’s eyes widened in horror.
“Nneka?!” she gasped, barely recognizing the frail, trembling woman before her.
Nneka collapsed into her arms, sobbing.
“It’s me… It’s really me.”
Amanda pulled her inside, wrapping her in a blanket, her hands shaking as she took in Nneka’s sunken cheeks, the scars on her wrists from restraints, the haunted look in her eyes.
“What happened to you?!” Amanda cried.
And then, Nneka told her everything
Amanda listened in stunned silence, her hands covering her mouth as Nneka recounted the nightmare—how Ngozi had drugged her, framed her as insane, and stolen her life.
“She’s living as me,” Nneka whispered, her voice raw. “She married Emeka. She destroyed my business. And she left me to rot.”
Amanda’s shock turned to fury.
“That monster!” she spat, gripping Nneka’s hands. “We’re going to expose her. Tonight.”
With Amanda’s phone, Nneka dialed her parents’ number, her fingers trembling.
When her mother answered, Nneka broke down.
“Mama… it’s me. It’s Nneka.”
Silence. Then—
“Nneka?! But… but you’re here with us! Ngozi is—”
“NO!” Nneka shouted, her voice cracking. “That’s not Ngozi! That’s me! Ngozi put me in a mental hospital and took my place!”
Her parents were silent for a long moment. Then, her father’s voice, thick with grief:
“Oh my God… We didn’t know. We didn’t see it.”
The realization hit them like a knife to the heart.
They had been living with an imposter.
And they had failed their real daughter.
Gathered in Amanda’s living room, Nneka, her parents, and Amanda devised a plan.
“We need proof,” Amanda said. “Something undeniable.”
Nneka’s eyes darkened.
“I have an idea.”
She knew Ngozi better than anyone.
And she knew exactly where to strike.
Meanwhile, Ngozi sat in Emeka’s house—her house, as far as she was concerned—sipping wine as she scrolled through property listings.
Emeka wanted a divorce?
Fine.
But she wouldn’t leave empty-handed.
If he thought he could throw her out, he was wrong.
Dead wrong.
She smirked, reaching for a small vial hidden in her purse.
A tasteless, odorless poison.
One sip, and Emeka would be gone in hours.
And as his "grieving widow," she would inherit everything.
“You should have just loved me, Emeka,” she murmured, swirling the wine glass.
“Now, you’ll die regretting it.”
That night, Nneka and Amanda drove to Emeka’s house, her parents following close behind.
Nneka’s heart pounded as she stared at the mansion—her home, now occupied by her betrayer.
She took a deep breath.
“It’s time.”
Inside, Ngozi was just lifting the poisoned glass to Emeka’s lips when—
The door burst open.
Nneka stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with fury.
“Hello, sister.”
Ngozi’s glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.
Emeka turned, his breath catching.
“Nneka…?”
The room fell silent.
The game was over.
And Ngozi’s reign of lies was about to crumble.
To Be Continued…

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…

‭Romans 12:2 NIV‬
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Have you bought your ticket to heaven? How? By repenting your sins and accepting Jesus as your Lord and Saviour. Tomorrow maybe too late. Do it today. God bless you

For those using eye drops, this is for you

“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

My dear,
You are so very precious to me: a true blessing. I just can’t imagine this world without you in it.
So now I tell you about my most sincere promise of love.
I will always have your best interests in mind. Your happiness is something so dear to me.
I want you to know that I will never leave you and I will always cherish you.
I promise that I will dance with you.
I will laugh with you.
I will cry with you. And then wipe away your tears.
When you are sick, I will take care of you.
I will always treat you how I want to be treated and hope you will do the same in return.
You will always have my full attention.
I will never let you go. You want us to last far into eternity.
I will always love you. Forever.

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…

“I No Get Shame!” – Tiwa Savage Spills it all on How She Begged Don Jazzy for a Second Chance, Found Love, and Built Her Mavin Family

Before she was Africa’s ultimate Afrobeats queen, singing her heart out on Somebody’s Son, Tiwa Savage was just a bold dreamer with thick skin and zero shame—and she’s not afraid to admit it.

In a tell-it-all, deeply emotional interview with Afrobeats Intelligence, Tiwa opened up about one of the most defining moments of her career—the day she humbled herself and knocked on Don Jazzy’s door again, this time, with a shameless but heartfelt plea.

“When Don Jazzy started Mavin, I went to him and said, ‘Can you sign me now? Because you didn’t sign me in Mo’Hits before,’” she said, laughing. “I asked again. Wow. Oh my God. I don’t have shame.”

But behind the laughter was something raw: a woman who knew her worth, who had once been overlooked in the Mo’Hits era, but refused to let rejection define her. Tiwa wasn’t just asking to be signed—she was fighting for her destiny. And guess what?

Don Jazzy said YES.

Just like that, the doors to Mavin Records swung wide open for her—and with them came not just hit songs, but something even more precious: a family.

“Mavin was like home. If something trended online or I was going through stuff personally, I could just run into Jazzy’s room. Everyone—Dr Sid, Reekado Banks, Tega—they’d gather, no judgement. We’d cry, talk, laugh... That bond? I miss it,” Tiwa revealed, her voice soft with nostalgia.

It wasn’t just about music. It was late-night heart-to-hearts, sibling fights, shared wins, inside jokes. And yes—love stories bloomed too. Fans whispered back then about sparks between some of the Mavin stars, and while Tiwa’s lips stay sealed, you could feel the warmth in how she talked about those days.

Now with Empire, Tiwa’s journey has shifted. It’s less warmth, more business. And while she’s bossing up in a big way—touring, deals, international features—there’s a part of her that still longs for the tight-knit magic Mavin once gave her.

“You have to know who you’re signing to. That experience shaped me—not just musically, but as a businesswoman too,” she said, eyes firm.

From begging for a shot to becoming one of Africa’s biggest stars, Tiwa Savage’s story is proof that sometimes, the boldest thing a woman can do is ask for what she deserves—without shame, without apology, and with all the love in her heart.

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