Buscar

Good night Nakupenda family,close your eyes while sleeping 😴 #Favour #ForTUNate #Nakupenda #Smile

Nakupenda is not just an app, it’s a movement of love, culture, and connection. Let’s be the reason someone smiles today. #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind

Good morning, fam! Start your day with a kind word, a smile, or a prayer for someone. Love is powerful, use it. #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind

Put a smile on someone's face today #ForTUNate_2016

You don't have to be rich to give your time or you smile 😊 your words of encouragement are enough #SpreadTheLove in #NakupendaSpirit #PeaceOfMind

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

May this new week present us with reasons to smile Have a blessed and productive week!!!! #discipline

"A tender moment frozen in time, a mother's loving gaze meets her child's innocent smile, radiating warmth, comfort, and unconditional love that transcends words." #feelinglove #Nakupenda

#Discipline #nakupenda SHE WAS 8 YEARS OLD WHEN THEY FORCED HER TO MARRY AN 80-YEAR-OLD MAN AND THIS HAPPENED She was only eight. She still played with dolls, still chased butterflies barefoot in the dusty yard, still slept with her head on her mother’s lap. Her name was Amina, and all she ever wanted was to go to school, eat sweets, and laugh with her younger brother. But one morning, her mother pulled her aside, eyes red, voice trembling. "You are to be married next week." Amina blinked. Married? She thought it meant putting on a pretty dress and playing bride, the way she did with her friends. She didn’t understand why her mother cried harder when she smiled and asked if there would be cake. Her father didn’t explain. He only said, “This will save us all.” The man—Alhaji Umar—was 80 years old, rich, with hands that shook and breath that smelled of bitterness. He had four wives already. The youngest was 40. Now he wanted a fifth, and he wanted Amina. Because her father owed him. Because her father was drowning in debt. Because no one in the village would dare refuse Alhaji Umar. The night before the wedding, Amina asked her mother if she’d be allowed to go back to school afterward. Her mother didn’t answer. She just held her tighter. And when the drums began the next morning, when the guests gathered to dance and eat and celebrate what they thought was a blessing, Amina sat in the middle of the room in a white dress too big for her tiny frame, not knowing she was being led into a nightmare. The marriage was celebrated with loud music. But the silence in Amina’s heart was louder. She didn’t cry during the ceremony. She didn’t cry when she was taken to his house. But she cried when he locked the room that night. She cried when he touched her tiny hand and called her his "new beginning." He didn’t hurt her—not yet. But his eyes did. They looked at her like she wasn’t a child. Like she was property. Days turned into weeks. She didn’t go to school again. She cleaned the house. She sat beside his bed. She listened when he ranted about how none of his sons respected him. She became a shadow in a palace she never asked for. And the worst part? No one came for her. Not her father. Not her mother. They had vanished into the silence of guilt. But one night, when the wind howled and the rain slapped the windows, Amina heard someone at the door. A stranger. Wet, tired, breathing heavily. He said he was Alhaji Umar’s grandson. A university student back from abroad. “Who are you?” he asked, staring at her with confusion. “Why are you wearing a wedding necklace?” “I’m his wife,” she whispered. The boy’s face went pale. That night changed everything. TO BE CONTINUED...

Smile is an antidote to sadness. Put smile on someone face before the end of the week #Favour #ForTUNate_2016

Don't forget to put a smile on someone's face 😊 #Comfort_Fumnanya_001 #attendance #passion

I thank God for Nakupenda. Indeed the future is bright Pregnant with purpose, Puting smile on the faces of those who believe in what the future holds with Nakupenda. #Nakupenda. #Motivation. #Samuelthomasayiya. #thefutureisbright.