Buscar

on this day 16th April, 2017 when the whole world was still celebrating the RISEN CHRIST, the cold hands of death came knocking...took away my father. buddy mike, the demise has created a lot of holes but then exposed so many things hidden. Am sure you are watching over us as we promise to make you proud even though you didnt live to enjoy your years of long struggling to help train your siblings and your kids. your EIGHT kids are doing well, making history and re-writting old narratives about the entire family. we love you Dad but God loves you more. continue to rest on BUDDY MIKE #Paddylay

A Barrow Pusher Became Rich After Public Insults and Abandonment Episode 1 The sun was merciless that afternoon, pouring its heat down like punishment on the busy streets of Onitsha. Chijioke’s skin was browned from years of exposure, his hands calloused from pushing his barrow through tight markets and uphill roads. He had just finished delivering a load of yams to a woman in Ose Market and was making his way back, tired but hopeful. Business had been rough, but today, he had made a little more than usual. It was enough to buy garri, sugar and a little amount to send to his mother in the village. As he paused by a roadside kiosk to buy pure water, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years — sharp, familiar, and once dear. “Is that not Chijioke?” the voice echoed. He turned, and his heart thudded. Ada. Beautiful, proud Ada. The same Ada he had once given his heart to in their village school. Now she stood radiant in makeup and fancy clothes, flanked by two other girls. He smiled awkwardly, lifting his hand in greeting. “Ada, long time—” She cut him off with a mocking laugh. “Chijioke! You still dey push barrow? Haba! Na wa o. Look at your mates! They drive cars, they wear suits. And you?” Her friends burst into laughter. One even took out her phone to snap a picture. A small crowd began to gather. Traders stopped. Bus conductors paused their chants. People stared. Chijioke’s heart sank. He felt like the ground should open and swallow him. “I used to like you before,” Ada continued, “but now I thank God I said no to you. See your life!” He stood rooted, too stunned to speak. The bottle of water slipped from his hand. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, he picked up his barrow slowly, nodded once, and pushed it forward. Each step felt like a hundred lashes to his pride. People whispered, others laughed, some just watched. It was the longest walk of his life. By the time he reached the edge of the market, his legs were shaking. He veered off the main road, found a quiet spot behind an abandoned shop, and sat on a broken cement slab. For the first time in years, he let the tears come. He cried for his dreams, for his shame, for his father who had died too soon, for the mother whose body was fading from sickness. He cried for being mocked, for being poor, for being helpless. But somewhere in the middle of the tears, a thought began to grow. What if this was not the end? What if her insult was a mirror showing him who he’d become — and who he could still be? The pain turned into fire. A quiet vow formed in his heart: They will never laugh at me like this again. #worldwide #africanfolktales #Discipline #nakupenda

The Character. The Habit. The You. At the end of the day, what really follows us isn’t just what we’ve said or achieved—it’s who we’ve become. The character we have lived. The habit we have formed. The you that played the role. Our character is the unseen voice that speaks for us even in our absence. It’s not built in the spotlight, it’s forged in the quiet, private choices we make when no one is watching us. Our habits? Well, as we know it is the small, repetitive steps that shape our direction. They either grow us or ground us. Build us or break us. We don’t rise to the level of our dreams by just dreaming—we fall to the level of our discipline. The rigorous process that forms that very habit. And then there’s you 🙃! The version of yourself you’re becoming daily. Not the curated one for others, but the raw, real one. The one who’s learning, failing, showing up, healing, becoming. So don’t just work on what you do; work on who you are. Because eventually, the life you live will reflect the character, the habit, and the you, that you’ve built over time. #GodsGeneration #spreadthelove #grateful #teamB #sarahdalandlady

INTERNET AND THE EMERGING ZOMBIE GENERATION IN NIGERIA. JAMB PERFORMANCE BY NIGERIAN STUDENTS SINCE 2007.. In 2007 -. 66% of NGR students scored 200 and above.. in 2008 - 63% scored 200 and above 2010 - 41% scored 200 and above.. 2015 - 30% scored 200 and above... 2019 -. 24% scored 200 and above... 2023 - 23% scored 200 and above... 2025 - 22% scored 200 and above... by 2035 if nothing is done to arrest this worrying decline, This yahoo and jenzzy generation will call for the ending of JAMB... By 2050, university entry criteria will just be anyone who can spell his father's name... most of this kids who fail JAMB and still get higher institution admission behave like kids who didn't attend primary school.. Education standard in NGR is in a state of coma ... if nothing is done urgent.... it would be permanently buried.... Let’s stop lying. *FUTURES CRUSHED. A NATION EXPOSED.* - JAMB 2025 RESULT IS A DISASTER* The 2025 JAMB results are here. A disaster. OVER 1.5 MILLION STUDENTS SCORED BELOW 200. *WE ALL FAILED.* PARENTS: YOU RAISED FRAUDS, NOT CHILDREN You paid for “SPECIAL CENTRES” to cheat WAEC. You cared more about BRAGGING RIGHTS THAN BEDTIME STORIES. You taught your child to CUT CORNERS, NOT SOLVE PROBLEMS. Now JAMB strips off the mask, and they drown. What did you expect? You wanted SHORTCUTS, NOT KNOWLEDGE. Your child can’t think, but they know how to cheat. IS THIS PRIDE? *DEAR SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS, YOU SOLD SOULS FOR PROFIT* School owners, you hired teachers who couldn’t spell “education.” Classrooms became TRADING FLOORS. Teachers, you leaked exams, whispered answers, and called it “help.” You had one job: TO BUILD MINDS. Instead, YOU BUILT LIARS. Your students can’t write a sentence, but they know how to bypass integrity. SHAME ON YOU. *DEAR STUDENTS: YOU CHOSE EASY OVER EXCELLENCE* TikTok over textbooks. Parties over past questions. You mocked the “bookworms,” then prayed for miracles. You thought JAMB would “sort itself.” Now reality hits: LIFE DOESN’T FORWARD ANSWERS IN A WHATSAPP GROUP. You can afford to buy data, and get iPhones, but CAN'T BUY TEXTBOOKS OR SERIOUSNESS. You gambled with your future. WAKE UP. *TO OUR GOVERNMENT, YOU WATCHED THE FIRE BURN* You UNDERFUNDED SCHOOLS UNTIL ROOFS CAVED IN. You let UNQUALIFIED TEACHERS flood classrooms. You ignored “MIRACLE CENTRES” because palms were greased. Where are the POLICIES? THE OVERSIGHT? THE URGENCY? You talk about “tomorrow’s leaders” while STRANGLING THE SCHOOLS meant to shape them. *THIS IS OUR COLLECTIVE SHAME.* *PICTURE THIS:* Ten years from now, your child is the ENGINEER WHO BUILDS COLLAPSING BRIDGES, The DOCTOR WHO KILLS PATIENTS, The LEADER WHO STEALS BILLIONS. IS THIS THE FUTURE YOU WANT? We built this with: 1. Parents who VALUED TROPHIES OVER TRUTH, 2. Schools that SOLD CERTIFICATES, NOT CHARACTER, 3. Students who TRADED GRIT FOR GOSSIP, 4. And a government that LOOKED AWAY AND FAILED TO ACT. It is nearly impossible for anyone who scored B’s & A’s in their WAEC WITHOUT MALPRACTICE to score below 200 in JAMB. *SOMETHING IS DEFINITELY WRONG!* ©Paddylay

*SUCCESS IS A DECISION!* Every day, people make choices. 💥 *Some are earning*—because they took action. 💥 *Some are watching*—waiting for the "perfect moment" that never comes. 💥 *Some are joining*—seeking a breakthrough. 💥 *Some are leaving*—because they didn’t see results fast enough. 💥 *Some have joined, but not working*—hoping success will come without effort. 💥 *Some are confirmed spectators*—always watching, never doing. 💥 *Some don't know why they joined the group*—lost in indecision. 💥 *Some joined, but don't know what is happening*—because they never asked or learned. 💥 *Some joined to copy and paste*—but success isn’t a shortcut, it’s a journey. But no matter where you stand today, *ONE THING IS SURE:* ✅ Success is not about luck. ✅ Success is not about talent. ✅ Success is a *DECISION.* #happiness

#waskydone, #spreadthelove, #TeamB The Parable of the Ten Virgins is found in Matthew 25:1–13. Jesus tells this parable to emphasize the importance of being prepared for His return. The lessons from this parable are; 1. Be Prepared at All Times Five wise virgins took extra oil, representing readiness. Five foolish virgins did not, symbolizing neglect. The wise could not share their oil with the foolish. Lesson: Each person is responsible for their own condition. No one can rely on another’s efforts to achieve their goals. 2. Appearance Is Not Enough All ten were virgins, all were invited, and all looked prepared at first. Only the ones with oil were truly ready. 3. There Will Be a Time When It’s Too Late The foolish virgins tried to prepare after the bridegroom arrived, but the door was shut. Lesson: There is a time limit to respond to any call. After which anyother time will be too late. 4. True Readiness Requires Action, Not Just Waiting The wise virgins actively brought extra oil. Lesson: Readiness requires continuous effort. Jesus ended the parable with the command: “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Lesson: We must live daily with preparation and hard work in view, resisting complacency and slumber.

TED Talk. (2009, October 08). The danger of a single story | Chimamanda Adichie 2020 [Video file]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmjKUDo7gSQ

#Discipline THE SECRET OF A SLAY QUEEN WHO ONLY SLEEPS WITH MAD MEN Her name was Maliya—fierce, bold, unapologetically beautiful. On the outside, she was every man’s fantasy and every woman’s envy. Slay queen by title, heartbreaker by reputation. But what nobody knew was that behind her polished nails, heavy makeup, and thousand-dollar shoes was a twisted obsession—one that could ruin her life forever. Maliya didn’t sleep with rich politicians, or musicians, or sugar daddies. No. Her secret desire was far darker. She only felt true lust for men society called “mad.” The street wanderers. The mentally unstable. The forgotten souls. The kind who talked to the air, laughed at nothing, and roamed in tattered rags. She believed madness held a kind of freedom no rich man could ever give her. At night, when her friends were clubbing or posting half-naked pictures online, Maliya would sneak out in disguise. She wore an oversized hoodie, no makeup, just a scarf. She’d go behind the abandoned rail tracks where she knew one of them always slept. His name was Dogo. People said he had once been a brilliant university professor before something snapped in his head. Now he danced naked in the streets and barked like a dog. But to Maliya, Dogo was beautiful. She brought him food, bathed him, whispered to him, and made love to him like he was a king. And the terrifying part? He remembered her name. Every single time. “Maliya,” he would say, looking into her soul with eyes that once knew more than the world allowed. “They’ll never understand you, but I do.” She thought no one knew. Until one day, her closest friend, Anita, followed her. Anita had always suspected something strange about Maliya’s behavior. So when she saw Maliya sneaking behind the slums, she trailed her—and what she found left her speechless. Maliya on her knees, feeding a mad man with such devotion it almost looked holy. Anita tried to confront her. “Are you sick in the head? What if someone finds out? Your brand, your endorsements, your family—everything will be gone!” Maliya didn’t flinch. “I’m already gone, Anita. I’ve been gone since I was twelve and I watched my stepfather beat my mother to death and everyone called him a pastor. Madness feels safer than sanity to me.” Anita backed off. She didn’t understand, but she knew better than to question a pain she couldn’t imagine. But secrets don’t stay buried. A vlogger spotted Maliya a few days later, in her disguise, embracing another mad man near the river. The video went viral within hours. “Famous Slay Queen Seen Kissing Lunatic,” the headlines read. Her followers dropped. Brands cut ties. Her family disowned her. But strangely, she didn’t cry. She laughed. Laughed louder than ever before. Because now—finally—she didn’t have to hide. She took Dogo and two other mad men, moved into a remote area outside the city, and built a shelter for the mentally ill. She named it “The Free Mind.” But what she didn’t know was that one of the men she loved—one of the supposed “mad” men—wasn’t mad at all. He was a billionaire’s son hiding from a murderous conspiracy. And everything was about to change. To be continued.... Written by Real Life Stories Follow Bleeding pen for more

When your eyes become your lord, you will be bound to satisfy all their cravings—whether good or evil. “Do not take anything with you when leaving, okay?” the elderly man warned sternly. His voice echoed through the small room as he addressed the four young men taking shelter in his home. A violent storm had swept through the city, stranding them on their way back to their respective universities. “Yes, sir,” they chorused, watching the elderly man quietly step out of the room. Charles flopped onto the bed, eyes roaming across the ceiling. “This room looks like it hasn’t been used in a century,” he said. “How would you know?” Peter asked, unpacking his bag. “Look at those drawings. They look like Mediterranean-era paintings.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “Historian!” Henry mocked, making the others burst into laughter. “I’m serious,” Charles insisted. “I bet there are ancient antiques in this house. First thing tomorrow, I’m going searching.” “Remember what the old man said,” John reminded him. “Forget the old man,” Charles replied, shutting his eyes with a smirk. --- The next day, the storm cleared. The water receded, and the sun pierced through the clouds. The housemaster gathered the boys and gave them parting words of wisdom. In return, they handed him small tokens of appreciation and went on their way. But not long after their departure, the housemaster made a troubling discovery—one of his most precious antiques was missing. Panicked, he raised an alarm. The neighbors quickly rallied and pursued the young men. When they caught up with them, a search was conducted—and the missing item was found tucked inside Charles' bag. They were all arrested and thrown into a prison cell. --- This fictional tale echoes the ancient story of Achan—a man who let his eyes override the commandments of God. Achan saw, desired, and took—and his disobedience brought ruin not only upon himself, but upon his people. Just like Charles, when the eyes become your master, you’ll be driven to satisfy every craving, regardless of consequence. Beware what your eyes fixate on—because what you stare at too long, you may start to crave. And what you crave, you may soon disobey to obtain. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex

*PHONE IN CHURCH?* I just watched the above video from a church where the usher collects members' phones during the service, perhaps those scrolling through social media, and hand them a Bible instead. They get their phones back after the service. At first, it feels radical… but maybe that's exactly what we need in these Churches where their pastors are afraid to speak the truth because they don't want to lose members. If we don’t intentionally guard the sacredness of our worship spaces, we’ll lose the reverence that makes them holy. This church took a bold step, and honestly? I think they got it right. What do you think? Too extreme or right on time? #Ngo_123 #grace

"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

™ So yesterday I kept wondering what the problem with Jeremy was. Their school closes by 2 pm. So by 1:30 pm, I was already at Jeremy's school to pick him up so I could take him back home. I parked in front of the school gate, just across the road. Jeremy had once told me that his mum always left the key behind so he could pick it up and gain entrance to the house when he returned from school. While waiting for him, a young boy waved at me and shouted. "Daddy Jeremy." He was walking with two other young boys who waved at me in excitement. I smiled and waved back. Then quickly called them. "Have you seen Jeremy today?" I asked. "No sir. He didn't come to school." "He didn't?" "Yes." I thanked them and watched as they left. Well since Jeremy did not come to school, I felt probably he took a day off that day. This morning I waited for Jeremy again. I had dressed up very early and was already set to leave the house. When it was 6:50 am, and Jeremy didn't show up, I decided to drive to his house to pick him up. I got to his house and horned. Then I stepped down to walk to the door. I heard Jeremy crying from inside. His mother was seriously shouting at him. "So if he is not taking you to school you are not going to school? Is he your father? What is wrong with you? What has he given you to eat. Will you get dressed and go to school now. Are you stup'd? Or is something wrong with you?" I paused. I knew this whole thing was about me. I couldn't knock. I didn't know what her reaction would be next if she sees me. I heard running footsteps hitting the floor. I heard hands bagging tables. I heard Jeremy's cries and his mother shouting. Suddenly I heard her beating him again. "Pick your bags and go to school like other children. Go and join the bus now." I turned back, got into my car, and drove off. I didn't even know when a teardrop left my eyes. I feel hurt today. Really hurt. Today started out badly for me and not until I am sure Jeremy is fine, I may not be at rest. #nakupenda #Discipline #Chibuzo