• "Look at how skinny she is. I hope she doesn’t have HIV,” Annabel whispered to her gossip mate, Gloria, as Temidayo, the new girl, walked past their table.
    Giggling softly, Gloria glanced back and smirked.
    “I bet she has ****** too.”
    They burst into laughter, loud enough to drown out the chatter in the classroom.

    Annabel’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “I have an idea,” she said, rising from her seat.
    The two girls marched confidently toward where Temidayo—who preferred to be called Temi—sat, her head buried in a book.

    “Miss Skinniest Girl in the Universe, what are you reading?” Annabel mocked, slapping her palm down on the open page.
    Temi flinched and pulled her book away. “Leave me alone, please,” she said quietly.

    Gloria chuckled. “Why don’t you want problems? Is it because you’re so slim? Afraid one touch will break your bones?” She gave Temi a hard nudge on the shoulder.

    Temi’s grip tightened on the book. Her heart raced.
    “I SAID, LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed, swinging the book and hitting Gloria squarely in the face.

    The class froze.
    The scuffle that followed was short but fierce—leaving both girls with bloody noses and stunned silence in their wake.

    They were punished severely. But for Temidayo, the pain ran deeper than the bruises. That day, she learned a painful truth:

    Never let anyone push you to the edge where your actions are ruled by rage.
    Because once anger takes the wheel, regret often rides in the backseat.

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    #grace
    #julietchineneyenwaalex
    "Look at how skinny she is. I hope she doesn’t have HIV,” Annabel whispered to her gossip mate, Gloria, as Temidayo, the new girl, walked past their table. Giggling softly, Gloria glanced back and smirked. “I bet she has cancer too.” They burst into laughter, loud enough to drown out the chatter in the classroom. Annabel’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “I have an idea,” she said, rising from her seat. The two girls marched confidently toward where Temidayo—who preferred to be called Temi—sat, her head buried in a book. “Miss Skinniest Girl in the Universe, what are you reading?” Annabel mocked, slapping her palm down on the open page. Temi flinched and pulled her book away. “Leave me alone, please,” she said quietly. Gloria chuckled. “Why don’t you want problems? Is it because you’re so slim? Afraid one touch will break your bones?” She gave Temi a hard nudge on the shoulder. Temi’s grip tightened on the book. Her heart raced. “I SAID, LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed, swinging the book and hitting Gloria squarely in the face. The class froze. The scuffle that followed was short but fierce—leaving both girls with bloody noses and stunned silence in their wake. They were punished severely. But for Temidayo, the pain ran deeper than the bruises. That day, she learned a painful truth: Never let anyone push you to the edge where your actions are ruled by rage. Because once anger takes the wheel, regret often rides in the backseat. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex #grace #julietchineneyenwaalex
    Love
    1
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 508 Views 0 Anteprima
  • I Was a Bad Girl for Three Years Until...

    Florence Adeyemo — the Mary Magdalene of Jesuit High School.

    The kind of girl everyone admired. The girl her family and classmates fondly called Pastor Mrs. Flo. She was the white sheep of the senior block — gentle, elegant, holy, and brilliant. What better combination could anyone ask for?

    Flo did everything right. Not because she was a “Miss Perfect,” but because she genuinely lived a righteous life. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She simply loved God — and it showed.

    But then, something happened.

    Three weeks after the senior secondary school holiday, Flo started hanging out with Natasha — the class wolf. Natasha, the daughter of a senator, was wild and rebellious. Lazy in school, loud at parties. She lived for the nightlife and didn’t care what anyone thought.

    Flo told herself she was only trying to win Natasha over to Christ. After all, Jesus was always found among sinners, right?

    Her intentions were pure. Her boundaries were not.

    Slowly, Florence changed. The girl who used to whisper words of prayer began to speak words soaked in profanity. Her gracious, calm spirit gave way to a sharp, restless energy. She became defiant. Disrespectful. Rebellious.

    Overnight, Flo became a different person. A bad girl.

    Her fall was loud.

    It took serious intercession, divine mercy, and tough love to pull her back from the edge. The process wasn’t easy. But it worked. She learned her lesson — the hard way.

    No matter how pure your intentions are, the company you keep will shape your character. Set boundaries, or you may become what you were trying to change.

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    #grace
    #julietchineneyenwaalex
    I Was a Bad Girl for Three Years Until... Florence Adeyemo — the Mary Magdalene of Jesuit High School. The kind of girl everyone admired. The girl her family and classmates fondly called Pastor Mrs. Flo. She was the white sheep of the senior block — gentle, elegant, holy, and brilliant. What better combination could anyone ask for? Flo did everything right. Not because she was a “Miss Perfect,” but because she genuinely lived a righteous life. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She simply loved God — and it showed. But then, something happened. Three weeks after the senior secondary school holiday, Flo started hanging out with Natasha — the class wolf. Natasha, the daughter of a senator, was wild and rebellious. Lazy in school, loud at parties. She lived for the nightlife and didn’t care what anyone thought. Flo told herself she was only trying to win Natasha over to Christ. After all, Jesus was always found among sinners, right? Her intentions were pure. Her boundaries were not. Slowly, Florence changed. The girl who used to whisper words of prayer began to speak words soaked in profanity. Her gracious, calm spirit gave way to a sharp, restless energy. She became defiant. Disrespectful. Rebellious. Overnight, Flo became a different person. A bad girl. Her fall was loud. It took serious intercession, divine mercy, and tough love to pull her back from the edge. The process wasn’t easy. But it worked. She learned her lesson — the hard way. No matter how pure your intentions are, the company you keep will shape your character. Set boundaries, or you may become what you were trying to change. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex #grace #julietchineneyenwaalex
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 792 Views 0 Anteprima
  • You become a fruit of what you constantly sow in your subconscious thoughts.

    Shun every negative thoughts.
    #grace
    #teamE
    #alexjulietchinenyenwa
    You become a fruit of what you constantly sow in your subconscious thoughts. Shun every negative thoughts. #grace #teamE #alexjulietchinenyenwa
    Love
    1
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 883 Views 0 Anteprima
  • "They don't accept sh#t, but they're quick to dish it out to anyone."

    Let’s talk about these "I don't take nonsense" people — the scratch my back and I'll scratch yours type. You know them. The ones who pride themselves on having zero tolerance for disrespect, and they make sure everyone knows it.

    And honestly? There's nothing wrong with wanting to be treated with respect. Nobody enjoys being treated badly. That part is valid.

    But here’s the issue: many people in this category have double standards. They demand respect but don’t always give it. They shout “boundaries” but trample on others'. They cry foul at the slightest shade, yet casually toss shade like it's confetti.

    Bottom line: if you don’t like rubbish, don’t give it.
    Treat people the way you want to be treated. It’s not that deep — it’s just life principles.

    Happy Weekend by the way.
    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    "They don't accept sh#t, but they're quick to dish it out to anyone." Let’s talk about these "I don't take nonsense" people — the scratch my back and I'll scratch yours type. You know them. The ones who pride themselves on having zero tolerance for disrespect, and they make sure everyone knows it. And honestly? There's nothing wrong with wanting to be treated with respect. Nobody enjoys being treated badly. That part is valid. But here’s the issue: many people in this category have double standards. They demand respect but don’t always give it. They shout “boundaries” but trample on others'. They cry foul at the slightest shade, yet casually toss shade like it's confetti. Bottom line: if you don’t like rubbish, don’t give it. Treat people the way you want to be treated. It’s not that deep — it’s just life principles. Happy Weekend by the way. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    Like
    Love
    2
    2 Commenti 0 condivisioni 483 Views 0 Anteprima
  • Land Cruiser 2015 Model.
    Slightly used in Nigeria but in Belgium standard grade.
    Relatively good price.
    Call@+2349131750197.
    #Team E.
    #Alex.
    Land Cruiser 2015 Model. Slightly used in Nigeria but in Belgium standard grade. Relatively good price. Call@+2349131750197. #Team E. #Alex.
    Like
    Love
    3
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 409 Views 25 0 Anteprima
  • My Only Crime Was Being a Slim Girl

    Sitting beneath the silver glow of the moon, Anita exhaled softly, fighting back the tears swelling in her eyes. She ran a hand through her thick, curly hair as her mind drifted back to the events of the day.

    The morning had started with a wave of nausea—it felt like her ****** was around the corner.

    “Ugh,” she groaned, stepping carefully down the brown wooden staircase. Her family was already seated at the breakfast table.

    “Good morning, everyone,” she greeted quietly, sliding into the seat beside her father. “I feel sick,” she muttered.

    “Well, if you ate more, maybe you wouldn’t feel that way. Look at you—you’re all bones and skeleton,” her sister Janice said, casually.

    The room fell silent.

    “Janice!” their mother snapped, eyes wide. “That’s a very rude thing to say to your younger sister. Apologize now.” She passed the golden Penny butter to Anita, whose face had already fallen.

    “I’m sorry. I was only joking. Anita knows that,” Janice mumbled with a nervous chuckle.

    Anita forced a smile and shrugged, but those words clung to her like a shadow.

    The rest of the day dragged by. She kept to herself, brushing off her friends’ attempts to cheer her up. At school, things only got worse. Amarachi, the class bully, didn’t hold back.

    “Anita, this your cloth no fit you at all. You be like broom wey dem dress up. You sure say breeze no go carry you one day?” she sneered.

    Laughter exploded around her. Anita didn’t flinch, but her heart did.

    Now, under the calm night sky, Anita sat in silence. She licked her lips, wondering why the world could be so cruel to someone who had done nothing wrong—except exist in her own skin.

    But as the breeze touched her cheek, she made a silent vow: she would no longer give anyone the power to define her worth. No more shrinking back. No more tears. No more allowing people to body-shame her into silence. She would love herself—slim body and all.

    Her only crime was being a slim girl. And that was no crime at all.

    ---

    Dear Reader,
    Have you ever been judged or body-shamed for being too slim, too ***, too short, too tall—just too something? You're not alone.
    Let’s speak up and lift each other.
    Drop a comment below if you've ever experienced body shaming and how you overcame it.
    Tag someone who needs to hear this.
    Share to spread love, not judgment.

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    #grace
    #julietchinenyenwaalex
    My Only Crime Was Being a Slim Girl Sitting beneath the silver glow of the moon, Anita exhaled softly, fighting back the tears swelling in her eyes. She ran a hand through her thick, curly hair as her mind drifted back to the events of the day. The morning had started with a wave of nausea—it felt like her period was around the corner. “Ugh,” she groaned, stepping carefully down the brown wooden staircase. Her family was already seated at the breakfast table. “Good morning, everyone,” she greeted quietly, sliding into the seat beside her father. “I feel sick,” she muttered. “Well, if you ate more, maybe you wouldn’t feel that way. Look at you—you’re all bones and skeleton,” her sister Janice said, casually. The room fell silent. “Janice!” their mother snapped, eyes wide. “That’s a very rude thing to say to your younger sister. Apologize now.” She passed the golden Penny butter to Anita, whose face had already fallen. “I’m sorry. I was only joking. Anita knows that,” Janice mumbled with a nervous chuckle. Anita forced a smile and shrugged, but those words clung to her like a shadow. The rest of the day dragged by. She kept to herself, brushing off her friends’ attempts to cheer her up. At school, things only got worse. Amarachi, the class bully, didn’t hold back. “Anita, this your cloth no fit you at all. You be like broom wey dem dress up. You sure say breeze no go carry you one day?” she sneered. Laughter exploded around her. Anita didn’t flinch, but her heart did. Now, under the calm night sky, Anita sat in silence. She licked her lips, wondering why the world could be so cruel to someone who had done nothing wrong—except exist in her own skin. But as the breeze touched her cheek, she made a silent vow: she would no longer give anyone the power to define her worth. No more shrinking back. No more tears. No more allowing people to body-shame her into silence. She would love herself—slim body and all. Her only crime was being a slim girl. And that was no crime at all. --- Dear Reader, Have you ever been judged or body-shamed for being too slim, too fat, too short, too tall—just too something? You're not alone. Let’s speak up and lift each other. Drop a comment below if you've ever experienced body shaming and how you overcame it. Tag someone who needs to hear this. Share to spread love, not judgment. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex #grace #julietchinenyenwaalex
    Like
    3
    1 Commenti 0 condivisioni 967 Views 0 Anteprima
  • Friday's good cause Sunday is coming.

    Happy Easter in advance.
    #grace
    #julietchinenyenwaalex
    #happyeasterinadvance
    Friday's good cause Sunday is coming✝️. Happy Easter in advance. #grace #julietchinenyenwaalex #happyeasterinadvance
    Love
    Like
    3
    6 Commenti 0 condivisioni 863 Views 0 Anteprima
  • History: A Guide to the Present and the Future.

    The study of the past to understand the present and predict the future is the sole purpose of history. Yet, it is quite unfortunate that many who study history fail to learn its lessons.

    Time and time again, century after century, people keep making the same mistakes their forefathers made. They pass down these mistakes—knowingly or unknowingly—to their children, who in turn pass them to the next generation.

    Historical mistakes don’t just lie in matters of health; they affect all aspects of life. A society that doesn’t learn from history is bound to keep moving in circles, repeating old patterns and handing them over to future generations.

    So, learn from history. Don’t just memorize historical names and dates. Understand the why, the how, and the consequences. History is the study of the past, to understand the present and predict the future.

    So do you just know history and not learn the lessons?

    #grace
    #julietchinenyenwaalex
    History: A Guide to the Present and the Future. The study of the past to understand the present and predict the future is the sole purpose of history. Yet, it is quite unfortunate that many who study history fail to learn its lessons. Time and time again, century after century, people keep making the same mistakes their forefathers made. They pass down these mistakes—knowingly or unknowingly—to their children, who in turn pass them to the next generation. Historical mistakes don’t just lie in matters of health; they affect all aspects of life. A society that doesn’t learn from history is bound to keep moving in circles, repeating old patterns and handing them over to future generations. So, learn from history. Don’t just memorize historical names and dates. Understand the why, the how, and the consequences. History is the study of the past, to understand the present and predict the future. So do you just know history and not learn the lessons? #grace #julietchinenyenwaalex
    Love
    Like
    4
    1 Commenti 0 condivisioni 784 Views 0 Anteprima
  • What Didn't I Do...?

    The pain of failure after fulfilling all the odds and ends stings more than that of someone who never tried at all. Why? Because your results don’t always reflect the tears, hard work, and grit you poured into the process. It’s a plight many of us can relate to.

    In frustration, we might blame God. We might blame the system—or even ourselves. But what if we looked at things differently?

    What didn't I do?

    Sometimes, viewing things from a narrower, more honest perspective reveals the flaws, oversights, and missteps we ignored at the start. Reflection isn't always about what you did wrong—it’s about what you didn’t do right.

    To grow, sometimes you have to identify what you didn’t do in order to improve what you did.

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    #grace
    #julietchinenyenwaalex
    What Didn't I Do...? The pain of failure after fulfilling all the odds and ends stings more than that of someone who never tried at all. Why? Because your results don’t always reflect the tears, hard work, and grit you poured into the process. It’s a plight many of us can relate to. In frustration, we might blame God. We might blame the system—or even ourselves. But what if we looked at things differently? What didn't I do? Sometimes, viewing things from a narrower, more honest perspective reveals the flaws, oversights, and missteps we ignored at the start. Reflection isn't always about what you did wrong—it’s about what you didn’t do right. To grow, sometimes you have to identify what you didn’t do in order to improve what you did. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex #grace #julietchinenyenwaalex
    Like
    Love
    4
    2 Commenti 0 condivisioni 521 Views 0 Anteprima
  • FROM ANOTHER PLATFORM

    By Obi Nwakanma

    And I hear you, bro. But think about it: from 1970- 1979, the generation of the Igbo who had fought and funded the war, were not talking of marginalization. They took on the task of restoration. I remember the story the late Mbazulike Amaechi told me when I once visited him in Ukpor. At the end of the war, the Igbo business elite who had been in PH, and whose property had been forcibly acquired by the new government in Rivers state went to Asika to intervene. Asika sat with them and urged them to seek the intervention of the courts and make this a seminal case on the defense of Igbo property rights in Nigeria. He did not want to seem to put undue pressure in a very sensitive time on the government of Rivers state. The Igbo were being harassed and stopped from work and resuming their life in PH. Asika encouraged them to seek the legal benefits of Awolowo who was the most powerful politician in government at the time. These Igbo businessmen met Awo, in Lagos, and after he heard them, Awo demanded that they go and pay 1 million pounds into his Chambers account, before he would could take on their plea. The Igbo business men asked Awo where he thought they could get one million pounds, having just come out of a devastating war. He said it was their business and dismissed them. The men later met in ZC Obi’s home, and after rounds and rounds of discussions, they agreed at ZC Obi’s urging, that they would no longer pursue the matter. ZC Obi said, “ let us ge back to work. Let us send our young men back to work. We shall build Aba until it gets into Port Harcourt, and no one will know the difference.” And that was precisely what they set out to do, and were about accomplishing that feat up till 1987. By 1979, the Igbo were powerful enough to ge a serious factor in Nigerian politics. Between 1979-83, the Igbo were not talking about marginalization. They were engaged in restoration . Mbakwe had asked Ihechukwu Madubuike as minister for education, to place as priority the establishment of another federal university in Igbo land. Thus FUTO in 1980. Between he and Jim Nwobodo, they launched an industrial policy that quickly turned the East once more into an active economic belt. They did not wait for the federal government. Imo state University and Anambra state university of Technology were the first state universities to be established under the state laws. I was reading the Imo State University Act that established the charter of the old Imo state university the other day, and I am still utterly impressed by the quality and precision of thought that went into organizing that university under the inimitable MJC Echeruo, one of Igbo lands sharpest minds of the 20th century. The same goes for ASUTHEC. Nwobodo went specifically to Harvard to make Prof Kenneth **** to return to Enugu and establish ASUTHEC. Now, compare that Igbo, to this generation of the Akalogoli. Mbakwe took Shagari specifically to Ndiegoro, in Aba, wept publicly with dramatic impact , and forced Shagari to promise to establish the ecological fund to deal with places like Ndiegoro in Igbo land. He compelled Shagari to understand that Gas and Petroleum were abundant natural resources from Imo state, and that Imo deserved and must be given new shares/ consideration , if the federal did not want Imo to sue, and even begin to raise questions about the federal government’s s seizure of Eastern Nigerias oil and gas investments, like the PH refinery for which no compensation has even to this day, been paid. Mbakwe pushed the oil issue and said to Shagari that the proposed Petrochemical Plant must be located in Imo, otherwise he would begin to build the Imo Petrochemical Industries himself . The grounds had been cleared by October 1983, and work started at the Imo Petrochemical Plant at Izombe by the time the military struck on Dec. 31, 1983. It was Buhari who later relocated that plant to Eleme. Mbakwe began the first Independent Power company with the Amaraku power station under Alex Emeziem at the Ministry of Utilities. The father of my high school buddy at the Government College Umuahia was the project manager who designed and installed the power station at Amaraku and had begun work at the Izombe Gas power station; all with engineers and technicians from the Imo state ministries of work and public utilities. They did not go to China to sign a contract. They just went to South Korea to procure the parts they designed and which they installed themselves! By 1981/2 most towns in Imo state had electricity under the Imo state Rural Electrification project. Same with the Five Zonal water project under the Mbakwe program. The project manager was Engineer Ebiringa. They did not go to China or America or wait for the federal government. 85% of the Imo Water project had been completed by the time the soldiers struck. There are still giant iron pipes buried underground in almost all the towns in the old Imo state under that project which was designed to give Imo the first constant, clean water of any state of Nigeria. Only a phase of the Owerri water project was completed by the time Mbakwe was kicked out of office, but even so, Owerri had the cleanest, most regular water of any city in Nigeria. Imo organized her public schools. Imo organized a first class public health system. My own father was commissioned under the Health Management board as the government’s Chief Health Statician, to conduct the first broad epidemiological survey of Imo state in 1982. I saw him at work. They were serious and professional men, who took their duties very seriously because they were highly trained. The Imo state civil service was possibly the finest civil service in West Africa; finer than the federal service, because they had a
    highly selected and well trained pool of civil servants who delivered value to the people. They were not talking about marginalization. You may say what you like today about Jim Nwobodo, but he started the independent satellite newspaper In Enugu, which balanced the story coming out of Lagos. No one was talking about marginalization until Chuba Okadigbo, rightly used that word to decribe the way the federal military government of Nigeria was treating the Igbo, in terms of access to real power. There were not enough Igbo officers represented in the organograms of the military governments, and yes, that word was apt, in that ****** . But we have taken it too far, and turned it into an excuse for our intellectual and political indolence. The Igbo have waited for their comeuppance on Nigeria, but **** ain’t happening. Nigeria is moving on without us, for better or worse. We must now recalibrate and engage. Let us use the final gas in our tanks, all of us now, between 55-75 years, to complete the work of restoration which the last generation began but which we have abandoned because we dropped the ball. We may weep all we want and complain that Nigeria is unfair, but the universe is indifferent. I dare say, Nigeria actually has no capacity to marginalize the Igbo. We better stop marginalizing ourselves or risk our children and their children inheriting the slave’s mentality!! That’s the danger we court with this story of Igbo marginality, which is actually self imposed, and self indulgent!

    I pray we rise again!!!!
    Happy New Month to us all!!!
    #Discipline
    FROM ANOTHER PLATFORM By Obi Nwakanma And I hear you, bro. But think about it: from 1970- 1979, the generation of the Igbo who had fought and funded the war, were not talking of marginalization. They took on the task of restoration. I remember the story the late Mbazulike Amaechi told me when I once visited him in Ukpor. At the end of the war, the Igbo business elite who had been in PH, and whose property had been forcibly acquired by the new government in Rivers state went to Asika to intervene. Asika sat with them and urged them to seek the intervention of the courts and make this a seminal case on the defense of Igbo property rights in Nigeria. He did not want to seem to put undue pressure in a very sensitive time on the government of Rivers state. The Igbo were being harassed and stopped from work and resuming their life in PH. Asika encouraged them to seek the legal benefits of Awolowo who was the most powerful politician in government at the time. These Igbo businessmen met Awo, in Lagos, and after he heard them, Awo demanded that they go and pay 1 million pounds into his Chambers account, before he would could take on their plea. The Igbo business men asked Awo where he thought they could get one million pounds, having just come out of a devastating war. He said it was their business and dismissed them. The men later met in ZC Obi’s home, and after rounds and rounds of discussions, they agreed at ZC Obi’s urging, that they would no longer pursue the matter. ZC Obi said, “ let us ge back to work. Let us send our young men back to work. We shall build Aba until it gets into Port Harcourt, and no one will know the difference.” And that was precisely what they set out to do, and were about accomplishing that feat up till 1987. By 1979, the Igbo were powerful enough to ge a serious factor in Nigerian politics. Between 1979-83, the Igbo were not talking about marginalization. They were engaged in restoration . Mbakwe had asked Ihechukwu Madubuike as minister for education, to place as priority the establishment of another federal university in Igbo land. Thus FUTO in 1980. Between he and Jim Nwobodo, they launched an industrial policy that quickly turned the East once more into an active economic belt. They did not wait for the federal government. Imo state University and Anambra state university of Technology were the first state universities to be established under the state laws. I was reading the Imo State University Act that established the charter of the old Imo state university the other day, and I am still utterly impressed by the quality and precision of thought that went into organizing that university under the inimitable MJC Echeruo, one of Igbo lands sharpest minds of the 20th century. The same goes for ASUTHEC. Nwobodo went specifically to Harvard to make Prof Kenneth Dike to return to Enugu and establish ASUTHEC. Now, compare that Igbo, to this generation of the Akalogoli. Mbakwe took Shagari specifically to Ndiegoro, in Aba, wept publicly with dramatic impact , and forced Shagari to promise to establish the ecological fund to deal with places like Ndiegoro in Igbo land. He compelled Shagari to understand that Gas and Petroleum were abundant natural resources from Imo state, and that Imo deserved and must be given new shares/ consideration , if the federal did not want Imo to sue, and even begin to raise questions about the federal government’s s seizure of Eastern Nigerias oil and gas investments, like the PH refinery for which no compensation has even to this day, been paid. Mbakwe pushed the oil issue and said to Shagari that the proposed Petrochemical Plant must be located in Imo, otherwise he would begin to build the Imo Petrochemical Industries himself . The grounds had been cleared by October 1983, and work started at the Imo Petrochemical Plant at Izombe by the time the military struck on Dec. 31, 1983. It was Buhari who later relocated that plant to Eleme. Mbakwe began the first Independent Power company with the Amaraku power station under Alex Emeziem at the Ministry of Utilities. The father of my high school buddy at the Government College Umuahia was the project manager who designed and installed the power station at Amaraku and had begun work at the Izombe Gas power station; all with engineers and technicians from the Imo state ministries of work and public utilities. They did not go to China to sign a contract. They just went to South Korea to procure the parts they designed and which they installed themselves! By 1981/2 most towns in Imo state had electricity under the Imo state Rural Electrification project. Same with the Five Zonal water project under the Mbakwe program. The project manager was Engineer Ebiringa. They did not go to China or America or wait for the federal government. 85% of the Imo Water project had been completed by the time the soldiers struck. There are still giant iron pipes buried underground in almost all the towns in the old Imo state under that project which was designed to give Imo the first constant, clean water of any state of Nigeria. Only a phase of the Owerri water project was completed by the time Mbakwe was kicked out of office, but even so, Owerri had the cleanest, most regular water of any city in Nigeria. Imo organized her public schools. Imo organized a first class public health system. My own father was commissioned under the Health Management board as the government’s Chief Health Statician, to conduct the first broad epidemiological survey of Imo state in 1982. I saw him at work. They were serious and professional men, who took their duties very seriously because they were highly trained. The Imo state civil service was possibly the finest civil service in West Africa; finer than the federal service, because they had a highly selected and well trained pool of civil servants who delivered value to the people. They were not talking about marginalization. You may say what you like today about Jim Nwobodo, but he started the independent satellite newspaper In Enugu, which balanced the story coming out of Lagos. No one was talking about marginalization until Chuba Okadigbo, rightly used that word to decribe the way the federal military government of Nigeria was treating the Igbo, in terms of access to real power. There were not enough Igbo officers represented in the organograms of the military governments, and yes, that word was apt, in that period . But we have taken it too far, and turned it into an excuse for our intellectual and political indolence. The Igbo have waited for their comeuppance on Nigeria, but shit ain’t happening. Nigeria is moving on without us, for better or worse. We must now recalibrate and engage. Let us use the final gas in our tanks, all of us now, between 55-75 years, to complete the work of restoration which the last generation began but which we have abandoned because we dropped the ball. We may weep all we want and complain that Nigeria is unfair, but the universe is indifferent. I dare say, Nigeria actually has no capacity to marginalize the Igbo. We better stop marginalizing ourselves or risk our children and their children inheriting the slave’s mentality!! That’s the danger we court with this story of Igbo marginality, which is actually self imposed, and self indulgent! I pray we rise again!!!! Happy New Month to us all!!! #Discipline
    Like
    2
    1 Commenti 0 condivisioni 648 Views 0 Anteprima
  • "You're pregnant?" Abigail whispered causing several heads to stare at the table where they both sat. The librarian who was few inches away from them gave the hush sign.
    “Sorry,” Abigail muttered then lowering her voice she said to Gladys.
    "So... who's the father?"

    Gladys swallowed hard “That’s the problem. I don’t even know.”
    Abigail gave her a disgusted stare “So you were sleeping around?”
    “No. Yes. I don’t know,” she answered, her voice shaking.
    She lowered her head and began to sob.

    “My parents will kill me if they find out. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do.”
    Abigail sighed and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Gladys. Stop crying because crying won’t change anything.”
    “So what do I do now?”
    Abigail hesitated, then whispered, “Well… you could abort it.”
    “That’s absurd,” Gladys replied.
    “Well… do what you want. But that’s the only thing I can suggest.”

    _______
    Out of fear? Or simply looking for a solution Gladys took the advice.

    She aborted the baby.

    But she ended up with a damaged womb.
    A future she didn’t plan and a pain she didn’t pray for.

    ________
    This is fictional story however it’s a reflection of what many girls go through.
    They make a mistake—and instead of seeking help, they cover it with another one.

    Sexual immorality is still wrong—no matter how glamorous it looks.
    No matter how many people normalize it.
    No matter how curious you are.
    And no, abortion isn’t “freedom”—it’s a deeper wound.

    God’s word says:
    “Flee youthful lusts…” — 2 Timothy 2:22

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    "You're pregnant?" Abigail whispered causing several heads to stare at the table where they both sat. The librarian who was few inches away from them gave the hush sign. “Sorry,” Abigail muttered then lowering her voice she said to Gladys. "So... who's the father?" Gladys swallowed hard “That’s the problem. I don’t even know.” Abigail gave her a disgusted stare “So you were sleeping around?” “No. Yes. I don’t know,” she answered, her voice shaking. She lowered her head and began to sob. “My parents will kill me if they find out. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do.” Abigail sighed and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Gladys. Stop crying because crying won’t change anything.” “So what do I do now?” Abigail hesitated, then whispered, “Well… you could abort it.” “That’s absurd,” Gladys replied. “Well… do what you want. But that’s the only thing I can suggest.” _______ Out of fear? Or simply looking for a solution Gladys took the advice. She aborted the baby. But she ended up with a damaged womb. A future she didn’t plan and a pain she didn’t pray for. ________ This is fictional story however it’s a reflection of what many girls go through. They make a mistake—and instead of seeking help, they cover it with another one. Sexual immorality is still wrong—no matter how glamorous it looks. No matter how many people normalize it. No matter how curious you are. And no, abortion isn’t “freedom”—it’s a deeper wound. God’s word says: “Flee youthful lusts…” — 2 Timothy 2:22 © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    Like
    Love
    2
    0 Commenti 2 condivisioni 824 Views 0 Anteprima
  • "When did you start putting on makeup?" Chisom asked, watching her roommate struggle to apply mascara.

    "Lately," Danielle replied, still focused on the mirror.

    "I don't know what this is, but you have to stop it," Chisom said, getting out of bed. She slipped into her fluffy pink slippers and walked into the bathroom.

    "Are you jealous of me?" Danielle shouted after her.

    Chisom burst into laughter.

    A few minutes later, she came out, wiping her face with a towel. Standing akimbo, she looked at her roommate, who now resembled a runaway clown.

    "Why would I be jealous of you?"

    "Then why are you opposing my choice of appearance?" Danielle asked, trying to fix her hair.

    "You're changing yourself to fit into that flashy group you joined last week. You're trying to please them, but you're displeasing yourself. In the end, you'll only confuse yourself," Chisom said, climbing back into bed.

    Danielle pouted, silently reflecting on what Chisom had just said.

    ---

    Have you ever found yourself doing things you normally wouldn’t, just to fit in or impress others?

    Maybe you’ve compromised your values or changed your appearance — not because you wanted to, but because you were afraid of being left out.

    Here’s the truth:

    People-pleasers often try to satisfy everyone but end up pleasing no one. The people you're trying so hard to impress may never be satisfied — and worse, they might even see you as fake. At the end of the day, you lose yourself.

    So don't live to please people.

    Be true to yourself. That’s where real confidence lies.

    © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    "When did you start putting on makeup?" Chisom asked, watching her roommate struggle to apply mascara. "Lately," Danielle replied, still focused on the mirror. "I don't know what this is, but you have to stop it," Chisom said, getting out of bed. She slipped into her fluffy pink slippers and walked into the bathroom. "Are you jealous of me?" Danielle shouted after her. Chisom burst into laughter. A few minutes later, she came out, wiping her face with a towel. Standing akimbo, she looked at her roommate, who now resembled a runaway clown. "Why would I be jealous of you?" "Then why are you opposing my choice of appearance?" Danielle asked, trying to fix her hair. "You're changing yourself to fit into that flashy group you joined last week. You're trying to please them, but you're displeasing yourself. In the end, you'll only confuse yourself," Chisom said, climbing back into bed. Danielle pouted, silently reflecting on what Chisom had just said. --- Have you ever found yourself doing things you normally wouldn’t, just to fit in or impress others? Maybe you’ve compromised your values or changed your appearance — not because you wanted to, but because you were afraid of being left out. Here’s the truth: People-pleasers often try to satisfy everyone but end up pleasing no one. The people you're trying so hard to impress may never be satisfied — and worse, they might even see you as fake. At the end of the day, you lose yourself. So don't live to please people. Be true to yourself. That’s where real confidence lies. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex
    Like
    Love
    3
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 775 Views 0 Anteprima
Pagine in Evidenza