*Shared as received.* *BE CAREFUL WHEN TAKING PHOTOS OF NEWBORNS!!* This morning, I was called to the home of one Alhaji to examine a baby girl who was born three weeks ago. When I arrived at the house: They complained to me that the baby girl seems to have trouble seeing. Since the day of her naming ceremony up to the time I'm sharing this message, her parents have noticed that she doesn't respond to light or to hand movements near her eyes or face. Because of this, I suggested they consult a pediatrician at Nassarawa Hospital. I called a pediatrician and explained the situation, but he said this case should rather be seen by an eye specialist. The surprising part that made me share this with you is what the eye specialist said when I called him. He asked, "Did they have a naming ceremony at home?" I said, "Yes, they did, and it was well attended." Then he said that it's now being observed that many babies who had home naming ceremonies, where the husband’s and wife’s relatives took pictures of the newborns with their phones, end up with visual problems. The flash from phone cameras, especially during the early days or first one or two months of life, can damage the retina—the part of the eye that sends visual information to the brain. This happens because relatives often insist that the baby open their eyes for a photo, and at that moment, the flash from the phone’s camera can harm the baby's retina. Taking photos of a baby during the naming ceremony can potentially cause permanent blindness. Please, let’s be careful. And let’s educate parents and relatives about the dangers of insisting that a newborn open their eyes for photos. Please share this message

*Shared as received.* *BE CAREFUL WHEN TAKING PHOTOS OF NEWBORNS!!* This morning, I was called to the home of one Alhaji to examine a baby girl who was born three weeks ago. When I arrived at the house: They complained to me that the baby girl seems to have trouble seeing. Since the day of her naming ceremony up to the time I'm sharing this message, her parents have noticed that she doesn't respond to light or to hand movements near her eyes or face. Because of this, I suggested they consult a pediatrician at Nassarawa Hospital. I called a pediatrician and explained the situation, but he said this case should rather be seen by an eye specialist. The surprising part that made me share this with you is what the eye specialist said when I called him. He asked, "Did they have a naming ceremony at home?" I said, "Yes, they did, and it was well attended." Then he said that it's now being observed that many babies who had home naming ceremonies, where the husband’s and wife’s relatives took pictures of the newborns with their phones, end up with visual problems. The flash from phone cameras, especially during the early days or first one or two months of life, can damage the retina—the part of the eye that sends visual information to the brain. This happens because relatives often insist that the baby open their eyes for a photo, and at that moment, the flash from the phone’s camera can harm the baby's retina. Taking photos of a baby during the naming ceremony can potentially cause permanent blindness. Please, let’s be careful. And let’s educate parents and relatives about the dangers of insisting that a newborn open their eyes for photos. Please share this message so others can benefit.

June babies is always the best

Nigerian Singer, 𝗨𝗴𝗼𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗲 Lends Her Voice Against The K!lling Of Innocent Babies In Benue State 💔😭😭 Injustice against one, They say, is injustice against all and it is a good thing that our Celebrities are using their huge platforms to speak for the masses. Afrobeats Singer Ugoccie condemned The Massacre of over 200 innocent people in Benue State. Ugoccie disclosed that she came across the live video made by Nigerian activist VDM to cover the incident and it traumatized her to the point that her entire day was Ruined because of it. It is terrible that someone would have the heart to hurt innocent babies not to mention burning them alive 💔😭 This Should Be condemned by all. Say A prayer for Benue State 💔😭. No one deserves this level of human cruelty against his own kind 😭😭 Moral Lesson: To you That Is Reading this, May God Not Allow You And Your Family Be Victims of Any Kind . Amen ❤️❤️ Follow Our Page SouthEast Music chart For All The Updates On Your Favorite Igbo Musicians Around The World 🌎❤️🙏🏽 #nigeria #Benue #igbo #nigerianmusic #afrobeats #ugoccie #AbiaState #Biafra #VDM #igbomusic #Igbohighlife #Ogene #music #news #babies

All the fine, fine babies are born in June.

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS PART 1 The stench of rotting garbage and sweat clung to the air like a curse. In the heart of Lagos' worst slump, where hope went to die, a little girl with too-big eyes and ribs poking through her skin crouched in the dirt, counting grains of rice like they were gold. Jessica was eight years old the first time she understood what hunger truly was—not just the gnawing emptiness in her belly, but the kind that made her mother weep silently at night, the kind that made her father’s hands shake when he couldn’t afford medicine for her baby brother’s fever. Nine people. One room. A single mattress stained with years of suffering, shared between her parents and seven children. The walls were thin, and the sounds of the slum never slept—drunken shouts, the cries of hungry babies, the scuttling of rats that were bolder than the people. Jessica learned early that life wasn’t fair. While other children played, she scavenged. While others dreamed, she fought—for food, for space, for a single moment of silence. But there was something different about Jessica. Even as a child, her eyes burned with a fire that poverty couldn’t extinguish. At ten, she taught herself to read using tattered newspapers she found in the trash. At twelve, she sold boiled groundnuts under the scorching sun, saving every coin in a rusted tin she buried beneath their floor. At fifteen, she watched her eldest sister, Ada, disappear into the night with a man who promised her "work"—Ada never came back. That was the day Jessica swore she would never let the slum swallow her whole. By some miracle—or sheer stubbornness—she finished secondary school. Then came the university admission letter, a flimsy piece of paper that felt like a ticket to heaven. But heaven came with a price. Her parents cried—not tears of joy, but of shame, because they couldn’t afford it. So Jessica did what she had always done: she fought. She sold pure water under the rain, braved the leering eyes of market men who "tipped" her extra for bending low, took cleaning jobs in rich neighborhoods where women looked at her like she was dirt. Still, it wasn’t enough. Then one evening, a woman in a sleek car rolled down her window and said the words that would change everything: "A girl like you could make a month’s salary in one night." Jessica knew what it meant. She wasn’t stupid. But as she stared at the woman’s manicured nails and perfumed wrists, she thought of her siblings’ hollow cheeks, her father’s cough that never went away, her mother’s broken back from carrying other people’s loads. That night, she made a choice—not because she wanted to, but because the slum had given her no other options. She became an escort. Not the kind draped in shame, but the kind who wore her pain like armor. She studied men the way she had once studied textbooks—learning their weaknesses, their desires, the way power curled around them like smoke. She was careful. She was smart. And most importantly, she had a plan. This life wouldn’t break her. It would fuel her. Because Jessica had one rule: no matter how far she sank, she would never stop climbing. TO BE CONTINUED....

AI translation from Hausa to English *BE CAREFUL WHEN TAKING PHOTOS OF NEWBORNS!!* This morning, I was called to the home of one Alhaji to examine a baby girl who was born three weeks ago. When I arrived at the house: They complained to me that the baby girl seems to have trouble seeing. Since the day of her naming ceremony up to the time I'm sharing this message, her parents have noticed that she doesn't respond to light or to hand movements near her eyes or face. Because of this, I suggested they consult a pediatrician at Nassarawa Hospital. I called a pediatrician and explained the situation, but he said this case should rather be seen by an eye specialist. The surprising part that made me share this with you is what the eye specialist said when I called him. He asked, "Did they have a naming ceremony at home?" I said, "Yes, they did, and it was well attended." Then he said that it's now being observed that many babies who had home naming ceremonies, where the husband’s and wife’s relatives took pictures of the newborns with their phones, end up with visual problems. The flash from phone cameras, especially during the early days or first one or two months of life, can damage the retina—the part of the eye that sends visual information to the brain. This happens because relatives often insist that the baby open their eyes for a photo, and at that moment, the flash from the phone’s camera can harm the baby's retina. Taking photos of a baby during the naming ceremony can potentially cause permanent blindness. Please, let’s be careful. And let’s educate parents and relatives about the dangers of insisting that a newborn open their eyes for photos. Please share this message so others can benefit. Abubakar I. Ahmad — SNA Nephrology Isah Abdullahi Isah

I marry early, just 20 years old. My husband na 24 that time. We love ourself well-well. E no even reach one month for our marriage, I don carry belle. We happy as young couple wey dey expect their first pikin. We prepare everything down for the baby. But na for delivery room my joy begin turn to pain. I labour for almost 3 days. When I finally born, na baby boy, but the baby come weak. Two hours later, my pikin d!e. I cry tire. My husband too cry. But we encourage ourself say, "We go try again." Six months later, I carry belle again. After 9 months — another stillbirth. Third belle, the same thing happen. Na so my family say, “This marriage no be for you. Come out, go complete your university.” But I refuse. I love my husband. I believe say better go still happen. Some people say na spiritual matter. We begin waka from church to prophet, prayer upon prayer. Prophet assure us say “This time, e go work.” I carry belle again, the fourth one. I born the baby, the baby even cry small, but by evening the baby d!e. Doctor call am “sudden infant death.” No explanation. Just fear. Na that period doctor advise say make we give gap before we try again. I tell my husband make we try adopt for now. Him agree. I call my cousin wey say she dey work for one motherless home. We give her over 1.6 million. Na so she dupe us carry money vanish. My husband vex. Say him no even believe for adoption before, na just to please me. Him say make I no ask am money again. I begin follow the matter spiritually again. Different prophecies, no solution. One day, my friend tell me about one doctor for East wey young girls dey born give away babies for money. Baby Boy na 1.5 million, girl na 1 million. She say e legit. I tell my husband, he say, "I no dey interestedand i no get any money to bring out." I go borrow money. I give my friend 600k as first payment. One week later, na online I see video of my friend—dem dey beat her say she thief her neighbor pikin wan carry come give me. I shock. My heart cut. I run go show my husband. He say, "Better no involve me for this matter" Next day, police land arrest me. My husband say, “Follow them go. I go get lawyer.” I call my family, dem say, “As you no hear word when we try rescue you, make Love bail you out now.” Just like play, I land prison. No lawyer. No family. My husband visit me only 3 times. After that, silence. My friend wey thief the baby, her people raise money bail her. She promise to help me too. Nothing happen. I stay 5 years for prison for matter I no understand finish. Just because say I want born, just because say I no get patience, just because say I trust wrong people. Different NGO dey come prison. Dem go give us food, tissue, pad — and hope. Many promise to help me after I share my story. But nothing come out. Until one day, one woman wey be women advocate listen to me. She promise to help. I no believe, but she really help me comot from jail. When I reach house, my husband don move. Don remarry with three children already. When I go see am, him say make I find peace. Say our fate no match. That day, I wan just disappear. I tell the woman wey help me. She say, “Come stay with me.” She encourage me. Enrol me back for catering school make I refresh my baking skills. From there I start my small baking business. But inside me, I still dey cry. I no even fit look mirror. I don lose shape, lose beauty, lose hope. One day, I go deliver wedding cake. As i reach the venue the people bounce me — say I no fit enter because I look “dirty.” That day, I cry reach house. I tell myself, “I go change this story.” I download Pinterest app, dey learn how to dress my body type. I watch make-up beginners videos. I start to buy small affordable good clothes. I begin dey apply simple makeup. I switch to skin care wey dey moisturize my skin. I begin see my beauty again. Customers begin notice. Begin compliment me. I start dey take pictures. I start dey smile. My self-confidence begin return. One day, I go deliver cake again. I dress well. The bride say I fine. Na there one man collect my number, say na for business. But na love him come find. Him fine, young, tall — and kind. I open up tell am everything. He say, “Your past no be your name. Let’s build something new.” Today, I don marry again. I don born two boys through CS operation. Dem survive. My first son na 4 years, second one 2 years. My husband say no need to born again — these ones complete us. And truly, I no need anything else again. I don finally become mama. Today I dey grateful say After all my tough challenges God still change my story. --- To every woman wey don carry belle with joy but return house empty-handed — this message na for you. The pain of stillbirth no be small thing. Na one deep wound wey only God fit understand. Sometimes you go dey ask, “Why me?” Sometimes the silence go loud, the tears go come uninvited. But make you hear this one: you never fail. Your womb no betray you. Your heart still be the heart of a mother. And even if the world no see your kind of pain, God see am, and He go still comfort you in ways wey go shock you. To the women wey don lose their self-esteem because dem no get money take take care of their body, or childbirth don change the way dem look — My sister, remember say your beauty no end for body. Start small, love yourself again, dress well, start with your budget, manage your weight if necessary. Self love dey build back self esteem You go rise again and glow in your own time. To the women wey their husband don abandon them — No carry your life hang for one person wey walk away. God never walk away from you. Stand up, dust your pain, start again. Look good, take care of yourself. You still fit laugh again, love again, and shine again. To Every Woman and Family wey dey fight silent battles — May God surprise you with joy wey go wipe all your secret tears. Amen. @highlight

I marry early, just 20 years old. My husband na 24 that time. We love ourself well-well. E no even reach one month for our marriage, I don carry belle. We happy as young couple wey dey expect their first pikin. We prepare everything down for the baby. But na for delivery room my joy begin turn to pain. I labour for almost 3 days. When I finally born, na baby boy, but the baby come weak. Two hours later, my pikin d!e. I cry tire. My husband too cry. But we encourage ourself say, "We go try again." Six months later, I carry belle again. After 9 months — another stillbirth. Third belle, the same thing happen. Na so my family say, “This marriage no be for you. Come out, go complete your university.” But I refuse. I love my husband. I believe say better go still happen. Some people say na spiritual matter. We begin waka from church to prophet, prayer upon prayer. Prophet assure us say “This time, e go work.” I carry belle again, the fourth one. I born the baby, the baby even cry small, but by evening the baby d!e. Doctor call am “sudden infant death.” No explanation. Just fear. Na that period doctor advise say make we give gap before we try again. I tell my husband make we try adopt for now. Him agree. I call my cousin wey say she dey work for one motherless home. We give her over 1.6 million. Na so she dupe us carry money vanish. My husband vex. Say him no even believe for adoption before, na just to please me. Him say make I no ask am money again. I begin follow the matter spiritually again. Different prophecies, no solution. One day, my friend tell me about one doctor for East wey young girls dey born give away babies for money. Baby Boy na 1.5 million, girl na 1 million. She say e legit. I tell my husband, he say, "I no dey interestedand i no get any money to bring out." I go borrow money. I give my friend 600k as first payment. One week later, na online I see video of my friend—dem dey beat her say she thief her neighbor pikin wan carry come give me. I shock. My heart cut. I run go show my husband. He say, "Better no involve me for this matter" Next day, police land arrest me. My husband say, “Follow them go. I go get lawyer.” I call my family, dem say, “As you no hear word when we try rescue you, make Love bail you out now.” Just like play, I land prison. No lawyer. No family. My husband visit me only 3 times. After that, silence. My friend wey thief the baby, her people raise money bail her. She promise to help me too. Nothing happen. I stay 5 years for prison for matter I no understand finish. Just because say I want born, just because say I no get patience, just because say I trust wrong people. Different NGO dey come prison. Dem go give us food, tissue, pad — and hope. Many promise to help me after I share my story. But nothing come out. Until one day, one woman wey be women advocate listen to me. She promise to help. I no believe, but she really help me comot from jail. When I reach house, my husband don move. Don remarry with three children already. When I go see am, him say make I find peace. Say our fate no match. That day, I wan just disappear. I tell the woman wey help me. She say, “Come stay with me.” She encourage me. Enrol me back for catering school make I refresh my baking skills. From there I start my small baking business. But inside me, I still dey cry. I no even fit look mirror. I don lose shape, lose beauty, lose hope. One day, I go deliver wedding cake. As i reach the venue the people bounce me — say I no fit enter because I look “dirty.” That day, I cry reach house. I tell myself, “I go change this story.” I download Pinterest app, dey learn how to dress my body type. I watch make-up beginners videos. I start to buy small affordable good clothes. I begin dey apply simple makeup. I switch to skin care wey dey moisturize my skin. I begin see my beauty again. Customers begin notice. Begin compliment me. I start dey take pictures. I start dey smile. My self-confidence begin return. One day, I go deliver cake again. I dress well. The bride say I fine. Na there one man collect my number, say na for business. But na love him come find. Him fine, young, tall — and kind. I open up tell am everything. He say, “Your past no be your name. Let’s build something new.” Today, I don marry again. I don born two boys through CS operation. Dem survive. My first son na 4 years, second one 2 years. My husband say no need to born again — these ones complete us. And truly, I no need anything else again. I don finally become mama. Today I dey grateful say After all my tough challenges God still change my story. --- To every woman wey don carry belle with joy but return house empty-handed — this message na for you. The pain of stillbirth no be small thing. Na one deep wound wey only God fit understand. Sometimes you go dey ask, “Why me?” Sometimes the silence go loud, the tears go come uninvited. But make you hear this one: you never fail. Your womb no betray you. Your heart still be the heart of a mother. And even if the world no see your kind of pain, God see am, and He go still comfort you in ways wey go shock you. To the women wey don lose their self-esteem because dem no get money take take care of their body, or childbirth don change the way dem look — My sister, remember say your beauty no end for body. Start small, love yourself again, dress well, start with your budget, manage your weight if necessary. Self love dey build back self esteem You go rise again and glow in your own time. To the women wey their husband don abandon them — No carry your life hang for one person wey walk away. God never walk away from you. Stand up, dust your pain, start again. Look good, take care of yourself. You still fit laugh again, love again, and shine again. To Every Woman and Family wey dey fight silent battles — May God surprise you with joy wey go wipe all your secret tears. Amen. #everyoneシ゚ #woman #virals #marriage

I really thank God for my babies successful project defence.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL PART 4 The house was too quiet. Grace sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the rim of her morning coffee cup, the steam long gone. Michael had left early again—another "business meeting." But this time, something felt different. Her stomach twisted in knots, and no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, the feeling clung to her like a shadow. She picked up her phone, scrolling mindlessly until a message notification popped up. It was from an unknown number. Her breath hitched as she opened it. "Your husband and his secretary look so cozy together at the Silver Spoon Café. Thought you should know." Attached was a photo—Michael sitting across from his young, beautiful secretary, their heads close together as they smiled over documents. Grace’s hands trembled. She didn’t remember driving to Michael’s office. All she knew was the burning in her chest, the way her pulse roared in her ears. She burst through the doors, ignoring the startled receptionist, and marched straight to his office. And there they were—Michael and her—standing close, the secretary laughing at something he said. Grace saw red. "Grace? What are you—" Michael started, his eyes widening as she stormed in. "Who is she?!" Grace screamed, pointing at the secretary. The young woman stepped back, her face paling. "Mrs. Thompson, I—" "Grace, calm down!" Michael moved between them, his hands raised. "This isn’t what you think!" "Then what is it?!" Her voice cracked, raw with betrayal. "Another business meeting? Another late night? How long has this been going on?!" Michael’s jaw tightened. "Nothing is going on! We were just going over contracts!" Grace let out a bitter laugh. "Contracts? Is that what you call it now?" She lunged forward, shoving him hard. Michael stumbled back, shock flashing across his face. "Grace, stop!" But she couldn’t. The rage, the hurt, the months of loneliness—it all erupted. She grabbed the nearest thing—a glass paperweight—and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence. The secretary screamed, scrambling out of the room. Michael grabbed Grace’s wrists, his grip firm. "Grace, enough! You’re acting crazy!" "*Crazy?!" She wrenched free, tears streaming down her face. "You’ve been lying to me! You’ve been cheating on me!" "I haven’t!" Michael’s voice broke. "Grace, please—just listen to me!" But she didn’t want to listen. She couldn’t. The ride home was a blur. Michael followed her, pleading the entire way, but Grace barely heard him. All she could hear was Pastor Gideon’s voice in her head: "If you stay, you will die." When they got home, the children were there—their three beautiful babies, their faces filled with confusion and fear as they watched their parents scream at each other. "Daddy? Mommy?" little Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with tears. Grace’s heart shattered. But she couldn’t stop. She packed her bags that night. Michael begged on his knees, his voice broken. "Grace, please… Don’t do this. I love you. We love you." The children cried, clinging to her legs. "Mommy, don’t go!" Grace closed her eyes, her hands shaking as she zipped up her suitcase. Pastor Gideon’s words echoed louder. "God wants you free." She turned away, walking out the door without looking back. When she arrived at the church, Pastor Gideon welcomed her with open arms. "Sister Grace," he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "You’ve done the right thing. God is pleased." He patted her back, his smile wide. "This is your new beginning." Grace nodded, but deep down, beneath the numbness, a voice whispered: What have I done? That night, alone in the small apartment the pastor had arranged for her, Grace sat on the edge of an unfamiliar bed, staring at her phone. There were 17 missed calls from Michael. 32 messages from the kids. And one voicemail—Sarah’s tiny, broken voice: "Mommy… please come home." Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob. For the first time, she wondered—had she made the biggest mistake of her life? TO BE CONTINUED...

WHY AFRICANS PRAY MORE THAN THE REST OF THE WORLD IS BECAUSE IN AFRICA, GOD DOES THE JOB OF THE GOVERNMENT! 1. ELECTRICITY ⚡ AFRICA: “Oh Lord, let there be light! Even if it’s for 2 hours!” EUROPE: “This LED bulb is too yellow, I’m returning it.” TRUTH: In Africa, power supply is a prayer point. In Europe, it’s a basic right. 2. WATER SUPPLY 🚿 AFRICA: “God, let it rain so we can fetch water!” EUROPE: “My shower is too cold. Fix it or I sue!” TRUTH: In Europe, taps flow. In Africa, faith flows. 3. JOBS & EMPLOYMENT 💼 AFRICA: “Jehovah, bless me with any job. Even volunteer, I’ll manage!” EUROPE: “I’m rejecting that role. The salary doesn’t reflect my worth.” TRUTH: In Africa, unemployment is a fasting topic. In Europe, it’s a policy issue. 4. SECURITY 🚔 AFRICA: “Father, may no stray bullet locate me today!” EUROPE: “There’s a suspicious sound outside, police arrived in 4 mins.” TRUTH: There, safety is law. Here, safety is prayer and luck. 5. ROADS & INFRASTRUCTURE 🛣️ AFRICA: “Lord, don’t let this pothole swallow my destiny.” EUROPE: “This small crack on the road is unacceptable!” TRUTH: In Africa, a smooth road is a testimony. In Europe, it’s standard. 6. HEALTHCARE 🏥 AFRICA: “Jesus, let the injection work, and not the side effect!” EUROPE: “Therapist booked. Medication free. Follow-up scheduled.” TRUTH: One gets healthcare from government. The other gets hope from prayer warriors. 7. EDUCATION ✏️ AFRICA: “God, let WAEC release results with mercy I sowed a seed 💰!” EUROPE: “Government paid for my Master’s. I got a scholarship too.” TRUTH: There, education is an investment. Here, it’s a miracle. 8. PENSION & RETIREMENT 👴🏽 AFRICA: “Jehovah, don’t let my pension be swallowed by corruption!” EUROPE: “I retired. Government sends monthly check.” REALITY: Here, retirement is fear and fasting. There, it’s relaxation and benefits. 9. VISA REQUEST ✈️ AFRICA: “Oh Lord, break every generational curse stopping this UK visa!” EUROPE: “I need a break. Might fly to Ghana for the weekend.” REALITY: In Africa, travelling = fasting, faith, and fire oil. In Europe, travelling = booking.com and a suitcase. BUT HERE’S THE REAL PROBLEM… High death rates Joblessness Poor security Land battles turning spiritual Sick people dying at church crusades instead of hospitals …because African leaders ENJOY it when you dump your problems on an imported god instead of holding them accountable! Why should they build hospitals when you'll run to prayer camps? By his stripes you're healed right? Why fix the road when your busy praying for travelling mercy on a deadly road? Why create jobs when your faith says “God will provide”? They know you won’t protest. You’ll just pray. And that’s how they win. AFRICANS WILL RAISE MILLIONS TO BUILD A CATHEDRAL……but won’t donate a dime to upgrade the clinic where their own mothers give birth on rusted beds with no gloves. We’ll buy: Imported church instruments HD projectors Shiny marble altars Designer suits for “Papa” And bulletproof cars for “Daddy G.O” Meanwhile, the local hospital: Has no electricity No running water One nurse doing the work of five And a doctor using a torchlight to deliver babies. AND HERE’S THE PLOT TWIST: The pastor you’re funding for “God’s work” won’t even treat malaria in that same country. When he's sick? Private jet to Europe. When you're sick? Pray. Fast. Sow a seed. Hope the hospital has Panadol. FINAL THOUGHT: God is NOT your governor. Angels are NOT civil engineers. Your miracle is called good governance. Stop calling on jesus/allah about things your local government chairman should’ve done. This is why most religious Africans tend to be less or non-religious