#advise to the father #Discipline

#discipline

Whenever you're having a conversation with someone especially in a professional setting maintain eye contact for atleast 20% of the conversation so much that you can tell the colour of the eyes. It shows confidence and strong character of someone who can be trusted. #nakupenda #discipline

🙏🙏🙏🙌🙌 #discipline

Your Vision is everything. If you loose it, you loose Direction. Stay Disciplined! The world is your Stage, you've got to see it clearly. Everyone is Waiting. Show up! #Discipline #Stephen Jesse

*Life is a circle of* *CONTRIBUTIONS:* *I* Contribute. *You* Contribute. *We* Contribute. *They* Contribute When any party ceases to Contribute, the circle will be broken and leakages will be discovered. *Whatever you are enjoying today, is someone else's Contribution.* Whatever you are lacking today, is because someone who supposed to Contribute didn't. Don't be that person, who because he refuses to Contribute, causes leakages to the circle. *Every person on earth is here to Contribute to make the world a better place.* Contribution is the essence of living. You can Contribute anything useful. *You can Contribute in* ▪️knowledge, ▪️in understanding, ▪️in wisdom, ▪️in love, ▪️in peace, ▪️in resources, and ▪️in finances. *Also, you can Contribute* ▪️physically, ▪️spiritually, ▪️intellectually, ▪️financially, ▪️morally etc. When you Contribute, people will eat, *when people Contribute, you will eat*. *ASK YOURSELF*: What is my Contribution in that place that I am? *What have you Contributed to make progress?* What is lacking as a result of your refusal to Contribute? What is the way forward? *The answer explains the scarcity or abundance in that place.* *YOUR PRESENCE IS IRRELEVANT if you have nothing to Contribute.* Even Nature Contribute. - *CONTRIBUTION is the way to go*- * In the *Mosque/Church,* Contribute... * In your workplace, where you earn your daily living, Contribute... * In the school e.g. Old boys\girls. * Contribute... * In the *house,* Contribute... * In the market, Contribute... * In the *society*, Contribute... * In the village, Contribute... * In the community, Contribute... * In the *family,* Contribute... * In your street, Contribute... * In your Fellowship or Association Contribute. Wherever you find yourself, contribute for impact. Everywhere, try to Contribute... *WE ALL HAVE SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE:* Contribute in love... Instead of complaining, Contribute. Instead of destructive criticism, Contribute. Instead of being embittered, Contribute. Instead of watching, Contribution is the right use of energy... *Nobody destroys where he has contributed to build.* THE WORLD WILL BE WORTH LIVING, IF EVERYONE CONTRIBUTES MEANINGFULLY. *START CONTRIBUTING POSITIVELY NOW!!!* Start making impact from today and may God bless us all. Thank You! Comr Eze Chibuzo Jonathan Most Social. #Eze Chibuzo #Discipline #nakupenda

#DISCIPLINE #TEAM 1 # NAKUPENDA

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

#Discipline #Familylove

#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

Who is your BESTIE? Me: Nakupenda #discipline #purity

We go harder or go home!!! #discipline