They buried Chief Okeke at dawn, but by nightfall, his body was back on the veranda—eyes wide open, mouth full of sand, and flies buzzing around like he never left.
CHAPTER ONE
Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The first person to see the body was Mazi Ude, the village night watchman. He screamed once—sharp and loud—then took off running barefoot through the red sand, shouting, “Abomination! Tufia! Chief Okeke has returned!”
People gathered, drawn by the noise. Old women clutched their wrappers tighter. Young boys climbed the guava trees for a better look. The elders arrived in silence, their faces heavy with meaning. They looked at the body, then at each other.

“This is not ordinary,” Elder Nwosu said, squatting beside the corpse. “The gods have rejected him.”

The corpse lay stiff, not smelling of decay, but of palm oil and dust. His eyes were open. His skin, cold. But the strangest thing? His fingers clutched at the earth, as though he had dragged himself out of the grave.

Chief Okeke wasn’t just any man in Umuama. He was the lion. The voice that roared during village meetings. The wallet that bought silence. The hand that fed both the church and the council. He rose from nothing. From the child of a poor farmer to a man whose house had twenty-two rooms and a compound wide enough to host a football tournament.

But in his rise, he spat on many things. Especially the old ways.
"These rituals are for fools," he would say. "We have churches now. Hospitals. Banks. What will kola nut do for me that money cannot?"
When his father died, he invited a bishop from Enugu, dressed in gold robes, who spoke in tongues. No kola. No egwú. No consultation. Just hymns, glass coffins, and photo banners.
The old men watched in silence. The dibia, Ezenwa, turned his back that day and said nothing.

When his mother passed, he hurried the burial again. Hired white caterers. Flown-in musicians. And when someone mentioned "Ikwa Ozu," he laughed. "My mother does not need dance in the grave.

Ful'ani Terror and the Sultan's Silence: Hausa people never expect something good from you

Yesterday, the Sultan of Sokoto called those who speak out against the unending violence of Fulani bandits “social media terrorists.” Let that sink in.

We, the Hausa people, are being slaug'htered. And instead of condemning the killers, the Sultan attacks those demanding justice. This is not new — your silence has always been loud. And your hatred for the Hausa people is not recent either. History remembers.

In 1804, Ful'ani under danfodiyo attacked and k'illed the Muslim ruler of Kano Muhammadu Alwali. In 1805, they attacked the Emir of Zaria during prayer. All the Hausa emirs then were Muslims — still, they were slain or attacked. That legacy of betrayal continues today.

You did not condemn the Ful'ani who:

Burned a bus filled with 42 Hausa travelers in Sabon Birni.

Kidnapped 279 Hausa schoolgirls in Jangebe, Zamfara (2021).

Abducted over 300 Hausa Muslim students in Kankara (Dec 2020).

Kidnapped nearly 100 schoolchildren in Kuriga, Kaduna (March 2024).

Abducted 80 girls from Yauri and sold them as slaves.

Shot at worshippers during Jumu’ah in Sabon Birni.

Opened fire on Muslims praying Taraweeh in Zamfara.

Burned a mosque and hospital in Zamfara — just this week.

Slaughtered the Emir of Gobir and left his body to rot in the wild.

You never spoke. You never condemned. Not once.

Even when the Sultan of Gobir was killed after leaving a meeting you convened, you said nothing. No condolences. No outrage. Just silence.

Now, you have the audacity to label grieving voices — our voices — as “terrorists”? The only thing you protect is your legacy of hypocrisy and your tribe’s impunity.

Wallahi kowa ya sani
No ethnic group in the world has benefited more from Hausa generosity than the Fulani.
And no ethnic group has brought more suf'fering, bloo'd, and suffering to the Hausa than the Fulani.

We, the Hausa people, will not forget.
And we will not be silenced.
This is just the beginning.
In Ka ga dama ka mutu.

© Hausaland Magazine

Legit.ng Hausa HQ Nigerian Army Hausawa Affairs Hausaland Magazine Human Rights Watch Amnesty International Sheikh Dr. Abubakar Usman Ribah Amnesty International Nigeria Hausa Youth Magazine BBC Hausa

MY HUSBAND SAID THAT MY TOTO IS TOO WIDE
( Episode 6)

It was one of those nights when the power was out and the heat was unbearable. I was in my room when my phone rang—it was Blessing.

She didn’t say anything at first. I could only hear her breathing. Then, in a soft, trembling voice, she said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I jumped up. “Blessing, what do you mean?”

She didn’t answer.

I threw on my slippers and ran to her house. Luckily, I had a spare key.

When I opened the door, I found her sitting on the floor, holding her baby so tightly, it looked like she was trying to protect him from something the rest of us couldn’t see. The baby was crying softly. She was too.

Her eyes were distant. Her face was pale. She looked like someone at the edge.

I knelt beside her. “Blessing, talk to me.”

She whispered, “I’m tired. I’m so tired. I’ve given everything. I’ve tried everything. What am I still doing here? What’s the point?”

I held her face in my hands. “You’re here because your child needs you. Because your story is not over. Because this pain—this horrible pain—is not the end of you.”

She shook her head. “He made me feel like I’m nothing. Like I’m not even human. How do I live with that kind of wound?”

I wiped her tears and said, “You live by remembering who you were before he came. And you keep living because that baby in your arms sees you as everything.”

We sat like that for a long time.

Eventually, she placed the baby down and lay on my lap, like a child seeking peace.

“I feel like I’m dying inside,” she said.

“And you will feel like that for a while,” I told her honestly. “But it won’t last forever. You will rise. You will heal. But you have to decide you want to live again.”

She closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed someone else to carry the weight with her.

That night, she didn’t sleep in her room.

She slept in mine—with me and the baby curled up beside her.

And I held her tightly, praying silently that God would carry her through the storm she could no longer fight alone.
The morning after that long, painful night, Blessing was different.

She didn’t say much.

She fed the baby quietly, cleaned up the room, and took a long shower. When she came out, she wore one of her old gowns—the yellow one with little flower prints. I hadn’t seen her wear that in months.

I watched her move slowly around the room, folding clothes, packing diapers into a small bag.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked gently.

She nodded. “I’m leaving.”

I stood up quickly. “Leaving? Where?”

“Anywhere that is not that house,” she said. “I’ve stayed too long in pain. I kept thinking it would change. I kept trying to fix myself. But it’s not me that’s broken.”

Her voice was calm. Too calm. But her eyes held a strength I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I can’t keep begging someone to love me. I can’t keep living in a place where I feel like a stranger. My child deserves a mother who smiles. I deserve peace.”

She didn’t pack much—just a few wrappers, baby clothes, and some feeding things.

“I don’t have a plan,” she said. “I don’t even have enough money. But I have to go. If I stay one more night in that house, I will lose what’s left of me.”

I helped her carry her things. We found a small, one-room flat not far from my place. A friend of mine had just moved out, and the landlord agreed to take her in.

The room was small, with a leaking roof and no fan, but it was hers.

Her own space.

Her first night there was quiet.

There was no shouting.

No rejection.

No cold shoulder.

Just her and her baby, sleeping in peace.

She called me that night and said, “It’s small… but I can breathe again.”

And I smiled, because I knew that this was the beginning of something new.

She had finally taken a stand.

Not just against Emeka.

But for herself. Adebayo Adetunji

THE DANGEROUS & COSTLY MISTAKES THAT THE MAJORITY OF GEN Zs' ARE MAKING
TODAY

Let’s be honest — Gen Z is bold, intelligent, creative, and filled with untapped potential. But greatness requires wisdom, discipline, and intentional living. If these mistakes go unchecked, they can sabotage futures before they even begin.

Let’s dive in.

1. LIVING FOR THE INTERNET, NOT FOR IMPACT;

Mistake: Chasing trends instead of transformation.

Wisdom:
In a digital age, it’s tempting to measure worth by likes, followers, and viral moments. But the internet has a short memory. What it remembers are those who made a difference, not those who made noise. Purpose outlives popularity. Build a life that leaves footprints, not just impressions.

Key Thought:
Legacy matters more than likes.

2. MOCKING THE PROCESS, BUT DESIRING THE RESULT;

Mistake: Entitlement without effort.

Wisdom:
You can’t harvest where you haven’t sown. Many want a millionaire lifestyle without embracing a laborer’s discipline. Mocking the hustle while coveting the reward is a self-inflicted curse. Every result you admire was born in hidden, hard places. Embrace the grind — it’s the gate to greatness.

Key Thought:
Desire must be matched by discipline.

3. REPLACING HARD WORK WITH AESTHETICS;

Mistake: Valuing appearance over substance.

Wisdom:
Looking wealthy is not being wealthy. Flaunting lifestyles you haven’t earned is deception to self and others. Clothes, cars, and curated feeds can’t cover empty bank accounts and shallow legacies. Invest your time in developing skills, building assets, and adding value. Substance sustains — aesthetics fade.

Key Thought:
Image fades, value endures.

4. PRIORITIZING FUN OVER FOUNDATION;

Mistake: Sacrificing tomorrow for temporary thrills.

Wisdom:
Youth is a gift, but what you do with it is your offering to the future. Fun has its place, but when pleasure takes priority over preparation, destruction is near. Lay a solid foundation now — in character, skills, relationships, and spiritual depth. Fun without foresight is fatal.

Key Thought:
Your future is the harvest of today’s habits.

5. THINKING YOU STILL HAVE TIME;

Mistake: Delaying destiny.

Wisdom:
Time waits for no one. While you hesitate, someone else your age is already leading, building, and shaping history. Starting early is an advantage, not a burden. Greatness isn’t scheduled for the future — it begins the moment you decide to grow. Don’t wait for the ‘perfect time.’ It doesn’t exist.

Key Thought:
The earlier you start, the stronger you finish.

6. TALKING MORE THAN DOING;

Mistake: Replacing execution with inspiration.

Wisdom:
Inspiration is everywhere, but action is rare. The gap between your dreams and your reality is called discipline. Stop being a motivational addict and start being a transformational leader. Speak less, do more. Let your results be louder than your quotes.

Key Thought:
Execution outperforms excitement.

7. RUNNING FROM CORRECTION;

Mistake: Canceling accountability.

Wisdom:
Correction is not rejection; it’s protection. Those who tell you uncomfortable truths are your true allies. Surrounding yourself with only those who applaud you is the fastest road to destruction. Value mentors, accept rebuke, and welcome growth conversations. Pride resists correction — wisdom craves it.

Key Thought:
Correction today saves catastrophe tomorrow.

8. CONFUSING ATTENTION FOR AFFECTION;

Mistake: Seeking applause over authentic connection.

Wisdom:
The culture rewards clout-chasing, but attention is shallow currency. Don’t dress, speak, or live for applause while starving for meaning. Real affection is built on character, trust, and value — not viral trends. Pursue depth over display. Attention fades fast; authentic relationships last.

Key Thought:
Be known for who you are, not just what you show.

9. BELIEVING YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO FALL;

Mistake: Assuming immunity because of early success.

Wisdom:
Success without humility is a ticking time bomb. No one is untouchable. Pride blinds, and it always precedes a fall. Stay teachable, stay grounded. Let your head bow as your platform rises. Arrogance disqualifies faster than ignorance.

Key Thought:
Success unmanaged is a silent threat.

10. SLEEPING ON YOUR GIFTS;

Mistake: Letting fear bury potential.

Wisdom:
Talent unused is purpose wasted. The world doesn’t need another copy, it needs the original you. Stop hiding behind fear, perfectionism, or excuses. Wake up your gifts. Refuse to be buried with your greatness still locked inside you.

Key Thought:
Unused potential is a tragedy.

FINAL CHARGE TO GEN Z;

You are the future, but only if you survive the present. Refuse to let laziness, entitlement, pride, or fear sabotage your destiny. The world is watching — but more importantly, your generation is counting on you.

Rise with wisdom. Build with intention. Lead with humility.

Your future isn’t promised, it’s prepared. Start now.

7 THINGS KILLING YOUR PRAYER LIFE.

1. Excessive eating: Eating more than necessary at night will only weaken your body.

2. Sleep: You must train body to sleep less and stay awake. Sleep drain your strength to pray. The truth is, some sleep is an attack.

3. Filthiness of the spirit and soul: Pornography, sex chat and impure thoughts are killers of prayer stamina. Your inner man would always be defeated by feeding your spirit man with filthy and erotic content.

4. Bad atmosphere: Atmosphere you create and find yourself matter alot. If you're among prayer weaklings, gossip and carnal believers your prayer fire will die. Gossip and backbite would frustrate you.

5. Poor feeding of your inner man. If your spirit man isn't well fed you can't be a prayer champion. You don't listen to sermons, you hardly study the word or Christian articles then your prayer life will be starved to death.

6. Worry: No worrier becomes a prayer warrior. Kill your worry to give life to you prayer stamina.

7. Distraction through watching TV, addiction to social media and boyfriend or girlfriend syndrome. Work on your prayer life.

Nigerian bishop testifies before House committee, detailing 'Islamic agenda to homogenize Nigerians' -
jihadwatch.org/2025/04/nigeri…

I NOTICED SOMETHING ODD ABOUT THE BRIDE AT MY BEST FRIEND'S WEDDING, SO I LIFTED HER DRESS
I was the groom's childhood friend, and I was overjoyed to see him finally find happiness. His bride was walking down the aisle, and everything seemed like a fairytale: the stunning white dress, the long train, the flowers... But something felt off. Her walk seemed strange. It was as if she couldn't move comfortably.
I watched more closely as the bride approached the altar. Her steps were awkward, almost unsteady. Everyone around was immersed in the joyful atmosphere, but I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was wrong.
As she drew nearer, one of the guests whispered a joke about how the bride seemed to be "floating" down the aisle. People chuckled softly, but I wasn't laughing. Something was eating at me. And at the very moment when the bride was nearly at the altar, I stepped closer.
My heart froze. I couldn't ignore my instincts any longer. So, just as everyone expected her to stand beside the groom, I quickly approached and gently lifted the hem of her dress.
The church fell silent, and everyone stood still. WHAT I SAW DEFIED ALL LOGIC! I looked at the groom. "What's going on?" he asked with confusion.
I didn't know how to answer him.

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How to Make Millions From Your Knowledge or Skills This Year


I started making money from my skill as far back as 2019, during my NYSC.

You’ve probably come across my story, how I hired someone to design my blog, but what he delivered wasn’t quite what I had in mind.

I remember staring at that site like, “Precious, this is not it.”

So, I said to myself, “Since you’ll be blogging for a while, why not learn how to design your own website? At least you won’t have to chase someone to update your own work.”

That one decision born out of frustration—set me up for life.

In less than 2 months, I had learned website design. I’m a fast learner, so I picked it up quickly.

One day, a friend in the family house saw what I’d done and asked me to design for him. I think I charged him around 30,000 then. Another person came, then another. The money kept rolling in from that one skill.

Even just days to my wedding in 2022, I charged 500,000 for a website project. I still design sales pages for clients to this day.

All because I decided to take ownership of a skill that solved a personal problem.


Now it’s your turn.


Maybe you’re wondering:
“What do I even know that someone will pay for?”
Or maybe you’ve said before, “I don’t have any skill, Precious.”

Let me tell you the truth: That’s not true.

You already know or enjoy something that can make you money, if only you’ll package and position it right.


Let me show you 3 simple ways to turn what you already know, love, or enjoy into money (and potentially millions) this year:


1. Monetise What You Know or Do

This is the most direct route. What do you already know how to do? What have you learned from school, work experience, volunteering, or even survival?

Examples:

You’ve worked at a bank for years, maybe even in investment or savings advisory.

You can become a personal finance coach, teaching working-class people how to save, invest, and manage money better.


You studied Law and know how to draft agreements and read documents.

You can teach real estate investors or business owners how to avoid getting scammed by helping them understand what to check in contracts.


You know how to bake cakes or make shawarma? You can teach beginners through online classes or create a weekend bootcamp for kids and teens.


ACTION: Make a list of 5 things you know how to do well. These can be professional, domestic, or even “random” things.

Then ask yourself: Who needs this knowledge?
How can I turn this into a service, product, or training?


2. Monetise What You Love

Some of us have hobbies or interests that we absolutely enjoy. You may not even realize people would pay you for them.

But with the right offer and structure, your passion can pay you.

Examples:

You love DIY crafts and décor? Start a YouTube channel or even start here on Facebook showing tutorials, then sell craft kits or host paid virtual workshops.


You love makeup? Start a series teaching beginner-friendly tutorials and offer makeup classes or personal shopping services.


You love organizing and planning? Offer virtual assistance services, help people declutter their homes or plan their events.


ACTION: Identify 1 thing you love doing, even if you’d do it for free.

Then research 3 people online who are already making money from that thing. Study how they offer their service or package their knowledge. Model it.


3. Monetise What You Enjoy Talking or Writing About

If you’re that person who always finds themselves educating others about a certain topic, or you love to write long threads, posts, or voice notes about a subject, you’ve got something valuable.

Examples:

You’re always advising people about their careers? Package that into a career clarity program or resume writing service.


You love talking about relationships and emotional intelligence? You can start a teach these tooics here on Facebook, then monetize through coaching, courses, or sponsorship.


Build an audience, then sell your insight through ebooks, strategy calls, or memberships.


ACTION: Pick your favourite topic of conversation. What do people come to you for advice on?

Create a simple 3-post content series about that topic this week on your social media. Watch who engages–those are your potential buyers.


You don’t need to have 5 different skills or 10 digital products.

You just need to identify one thing, position yourself well, and start talking about it confidently.

Start with what you know. Build with what you love. And show up with what you enjoy.

If I could go from 30k websites to six-figure projects just by starting with frustration.

Imagine what you can do by starting with intention.


You feel me?

I’m rooting for you.


Precious Ngozika Oli

POOR GIRL WAS FIXING HER MAKEUP IN A CAR WINDOW UNAWARE SOMEONE WAS WATCHING

Mara stood by the roadside, squinting into the tinted window of a sleek black car. Her reflection stared back, smudged and tired. She dabbed on cheap lipstick and patted her cracked powder compact, trying to look presentable before catching the bus home. She had just finished cleaning offices downtown—her part-time job barely paid enough to survive, but she managed.
#stargt

She didn’t care whose car it was. It was just a mirror to her. But what she didn’t know was that someone was inside.

Liam sat silently in the back seat, watching her with curious eyes. A billionaire known for his ruthless business deals and cold demeanor, he wasn’t easily impressed. But there was something about this girl. The way she pouted at her reflection, the determined strokes of her lipstick, the innocence in her eyes. She had no idea someone was watching… and that someone was him.

As she adjusted her scarf and stepped back, Mara caught a strange movement in the glass. Her heart skipped. She leaned closer—and froze. A man was inside, staring right at her.

“Oh my God…” she gasped, stumbling back. “I’m so sorry!”

She turned quickly to leave, mortified. But then she heard a deep, calm voice behind her.

“Hey, you. What’s your name?”

Mara paused. No rich man had ever spoken to her like that before—without mockery or pity. She clutched her worn-out handbag, unsure what to do.

“…Mara,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Liam stepped out of the car, tall and commanding. His eyes studied her like she was a puzzle.

“Do you always use strangers’ cars as mirrors?” he asked, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Her face flushed, but she lifted her chin. “Only when I can’t afford a real one.”

That confidence… unexpected, unpolished. It made Liam smile for the first time in days.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek business card, handing it to her.

“You’re bold. I like that. Come work for me.”

Mara blinked at the card, stunned. Was this a prank?

“W-Work? As what?”

“My personal assistant.”

She stared at him, speechless. Was he serious? What did a billionaire want with a girl who cleaned floors for a living?

But Liam was already leaning against his car like he had all the time in the world.

That night, Mara didn’t sleep. The card sat on her small table, almost glowing. Her entire world had shifted with a single sentence.

The next morning, she called the number.

Liam’s assistant answered instantly. “Mr. Liam asked me to expect your call. Can you come to the office today?”

Her heart pounded.

She walked into Liam’s company—towering glass walls, sharp-dressed workers, luxury dripping from every corner. And there she was, in her only clean dress, shoes that had seen better days.

When she entered his office, Liam didn’t look surprised.

“I want you as my personal assistant,” he repeated, calmly.

“I-I don’t have any qualifications,” she stammered.

“I’m not hiring a degree,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m hiring honesty. Loyalty. Boldness. Things you showed me without even trying.”

Mara swallowed hard.

“Unless…” Liam added with a teasing smile, “you’d prefer to keep fixing makeup on random car windows forever?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. All she knew was—her life was about to change.

And it all began with a little makeup and the wrong window.

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It begins
For the dreamers

#70hourschessmarathon
The One Who Wears Big Caps for Little Children.

These are my final thoughts before I hand over my phone to management. The team says I need to sleep.
But before the world goes quiet around me, allow me say a few things…

It’s my second time doing this insane thing of trying to break a world record.
You’d think it would be easier now,after all I’ve done it before. But that’s the thing about impossible things:
The first time, you survive them because you don’t yet understand the cost.
Now that I’m fully aware of the exertion it takes both physically and mentally, I’m equal parts excited and terrified. I embrace both.

Today I’ll tell you why I always wear a cap…

The night before I left Nigeria for this journey, something happened.

It was 9pm on a Tuesday night.
I was at the mall picking up some last-minute items.
Two boys, scruffy and barefoot approached me at the car park.
They were hungry and hadn’t eaten all day.
I asked their names.
“Yusuff,” said one. “Ayomide,” said the other.  Both young teenagers.
As I turned to check for cash in the car, the light hit my face and Yusuff immediately recognized me and blurted out “Chess players observe,”
I was stunned.
That was our mantra at Chess in Slums, it was what we taught the kids. I asked how he knew this, he explained that he had seen me months prior at their ghetto.
This made sense as we had spent the entire month of December teaching chess and maths to street children in that ghetto. Yusuff wasn’t part of the training but on the day of the final tournament, he watched from a distance as the other kids chanted “chess players observe”. It stayed with him ever since.

He told me his story.
His mother died during childbirth. His father disappeared.
He lived with his ailing grandmother for sometime but had to leave for the streets to fend for himself. It’s been five years of trying to survive in his own
Five years of growing up too fast…He is 15 years old now.

Then, something surreal happened.

A white Range Rover pulled up beside us.
A woman rolled down the window, “Chess master!” she called out.
She stepped out with her son Jayden.
Impeccably dressed. British accent.
She wanted a photo. Jayden loves chess.
She’s a fan.

So there they stood, Jayden and Yusuff.
Both teenagers.
One in branded sneakers. The other barefoot.
One polished by privilege. The other hardened by survival.

As I asked them to introduce themselves,
Yusuff’s confidence crumbled.
He looked down. His voice faltered.

I took a selfie with Jayden and his Mum, and as they drove off I had my epiphany….

And in that moment, I saw it:
The cruel reality of the world we live in
where a boy like Jayden and a boy like Yusuff would never meet
except by accident or because I happened to stand between them.

But what separated them wasn’t merit or character, It was birth. The arbitrary lottery that decides who gets to dream,
and who must survive.

Jayden will likely go on to attend the best schools, see the world, and live fully. While
Yusuff probably ends up doing the bidding of whoever can promise him his next meal.
An Area boy.

I have met thousands of bright eyed children like Yusuffs in this life, whose pain is invisible, and by no fault of theirs live in a world where their suffering doesn’t matter.
Sometimes, we save them.
Sometimes, we fail.
But I will never stop carrying this burden in my heart.

This is why I wear big caps for little children and wear one my self.
So the world may see them in all their colors, not for the suffering they bear,
but for what I know they can truly become.

I hope have shared this burden with you as honestly as I could.
If you ever believed in me, believe in them.
Cheer for them. Donate. Share. Amplify.
We are trying to build the largest free school in Africa.
A sanctuary for every child like Yusuff
where their dreams won’t die quietly.

I do this so their dreams may find validation in my sacrifice.

I have to go now, big day ahead. Gotta make it count.

Go watch this movie you will love it