Zoeken

We often hear the phrase "everyone knows that," but what does it really mean? Common knowledge refers to facts and ideas that are widely accepted and understood by most people, without needing special research or explanation. Think of it as the kind of information you wouldn’t need to Google or footnote in an essay. For instance, we all know the Earth orbits the Sun, that water boils at 100°C, and that Shakespeare was a playwright. These are pieces of knowledge we encounter early and often, making them part of our collective understanding. But here's the catch: what’s “common” to one group may not be to another. Cultural, regional, and educational differences mean that what one person assumes as obvious might be brand new to someone else. That’s why it’s always worth thinking twice before assuming something is known to everyone. Whether you’re writing, teaching, or just having a conversation, knowing the boundaries of common knowledge can help you communicate more clearly—and more kindly. So next time you find yourself saying, “That’s just common sense,” ask: is it really #knowledge

Title: Zayd and the Ember Gate Zayd had always been a wanderer. Unlike Adira, who was bound to the forest by fate, Zayd had no ties, no prophecy etched in stars. He roamed from village to village, his boots worn thin, his pack carrying only essentials: a journal, a compass that never pointed north, and a rusted coin given to him by a woman who spoke in riddles. He didn’t believe in magic—at least not in the way most people did. To him, magic was in the way a blacksmith coaxed a blade from molten metal, or how a storyteller could stir an entire room with nothing but words. But that changed the day he stumbled upon the Ember Gate. It was buried deep in the Ashen Wastes, a forgotten desert that whispered secrets through the bones of ancient ruins. He hadn’t meant to find it—he was tracking a mirage, or so he thought. But the gate was very real: a massive archway carved from blackened stone, pulsing faintly with embers trapped within. On its surface, an inscription burned in a language he didn’t know—but somehow understood. “The fire remembers the lost.” When he touched it, the gate flared to life, and for the first time in his life, Zayd heard something beyond his own thoughts. A voice, old and aching. “You are the Flamebearer. Will you remember us?” Before he could respond, the world shifted. Heat surged around him—not burning, but awakening. His eyes saw a different realm, for only a heartbeat: a city of fire suspended in twilight, towers made of living coals, and people of flame walking among shadows. Then, silence. The vision faded, and the gate was dark again. But something had changed. Zayd’s right hand bore a faint mark—like the outline of a burning sun. He didn’t know what it meant. Not yet. But he had a feeling the coin in his pack wasn’t just old metal, the compass wasn’t broken, and his wandering was never aimless. He had been chosen. #Not by destiny. #Not by prophecy. #But by the forgotten. #Zayd #nakupenda #nakupenda

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

The world is at the brink of war. But the real war is the war for for dominance between light and darkness in every nation of the world.Yet one seems to be more prevalent over the other,yet,in a moment of time,light will catch up with it

In life, let your choices be your own and owe no one any obligation for justification. If you realize you have made a mistake, you should take responsibility and make amends. Own your choices, stand by your decisions and actions without feeling the need to explain them to others. Stay true to yourself, and don't compromise your values or decisions to fit in or seek validation from others. Recognize when you are wrong and take steps to correct your mistakes. Pay more attention to actions, not words. HAPPY NEW MONTH NAKUPENDIANS!! #Motivation #Nakupenda #Subewo

Title: Adira and the Heart of the Storm Years had passed since Adira first became the Keeper of the Echoes. The village had grown, but the forests around it had grown even wilder, and the ancient trees whispered more often than ever. Adira, now a young woman, had learned to communicate with the forest, guiding it to balance the fragile boundary between the realms of magic and men. One evening, as dusk fell and the sky pulsed with a thousand hues of gold and lavender, a strange thing happened. The forest fell silent. Not a single leaf stirred, not a breath of wind rustled the branches. The quiet was so profound, it pressed against Adira's chest. A low rumble shook the ground beneath her feet. Before she could move, the sky split with a roar, and a storm unlike any she'd seen descended upon the forest. Dark clouds, swirling like a tempest of shadows, spun violently above the trees. The air crackled with magic, and strange lights flickered within the storm. It was not just weather—it was an omen. Adira ran toward the heart of the disturbance, following the pulse of magic she felt beneath her skin. The storm's fury grew with each step, but she was not afraid. She had faced the unknown before. At the center of the storm stood a figure cloaked in shadow, their form shimmering like a silhouette made of night itself. The ground around them was scorched, the earth warped with unnatural energy. "I've come to claim what is mine," the shadowed figure spoke, their voice like thunder rolling through the sky. Adira stepped forward, her hand instinctively reaching for the vine-and-silver necklace that hung from her neck. The forest hummed in response, a soft, reassuring pulse. "You don't belong here," Adira said, her voice steady. "This is the realm of balance, of peace. You will destroy it." The figure laughed, the sound echoing like a crack of thunder. "I was born of chaos. The forest cannot keep me out forever. You are too late, Keeper." With a flick of the figure’s hand, the storm raged harder, lashing out with winds that could tear trees from their roots. Adira's eyes glowed with determination. “No,” she said. “I am the Keeper of Echoes. And I will protect this place.” The forest answered her call, its ancient power flowing through her veins. Adira raised her arms, and the vines around her swelled, twisting into forms of protection. The ground beneath her feet rumbled as the trees responded, their roots awakening, reaching deep into the earth. The shadowed figure faltered as the earth itself began to push back, the magic of the forest encircling them, constricting. "You are bound by the forest's power, just as I am," Adira said. "But I am not alone." The figure hissed in fury, but the storm began to recede, the winds lessening. Adira pressed forward, not with force, but with the unity of the forest’s heart. Slowly, the figure began to dissipate, its form turning to mist as the magic of the forest sealed the rift they had created. The storm calmed, and the sky cleared, revealing a single star that gleamed brighter than the others—a sign that the balance had been restored. Adira, though exhausted, smiled softly. The forest was safe for now. The echo of the wild magic pulsed beneath her feet, always there, waiting to guide her when needed. #ADIRA #nakupenda #Discipline

Monetization is quietly killing social media. Not because people are earning—but because earning is now prioritized over thinking. We’ve entered an age where the algorithm rewards virality, not value. Loudness over wisdom. Hooks over healing. Trends over truth. And what does that do to original creators? We now have to contort. We’re forced to trim our depth, speed up our speech, mimic the trending tone, and collapse complex ideas into snackable, swipeable fluff just to be seen. It’s no longer “create from the heart.” It’s “create for the machine.” Creators with real originality—those who used to educate, inspire, disturb, enlighten—are now ghosting themselves just to survive the scroll. Because if we dare to slow down, teach deeper, or go against the algorithmic grain, we get buried. But here’s the deeper cost: We’re building entire followings off of dopamine, not depth. We’re gaining “likes” but losing legacy. And for those of us who started with truth in our bones, this slow dilution is a kind of spiritual erosion. But let this be a reminder: The algorithm might own the feed… But you own your voice. If you have to adapt, adapt wisely. But don’t trade your soul for reach. Don’t become a parody of your own power. Real originality still matters. Even if it doesn’t trend. #nakupenda #grateful #teamB #newweek #may2025

PUNCH Newspaper *The unseen crisis facing Nigerian men (moment Otunba Kunle Akinyele collapsed)* *Message not just for Men alone, but for everyone* 5th May 2025. Ganiyu Olowu *When Otunba Kunle Akinyele, a respected hotelier in Lagos, slumped and died at his wife’s 60th birthday thanksgiving, the nation gasped in disbelief. One moment, he was celebrating life and love; the next, he lay lifeless at the altar of joy*. The video is haunting — *a man gesturing, gasping, reaching for help in a sacred space, surrounded by those he loved but alone in his final battle.* This was not just a death. It was a metaphor of silent suffering, buried exhaustion, and what men have come to normalise in the name of strength. Akinyele’s case is not isolated. It is one of many chilling examples of how Nigerian men, particularly in their mid- to late years, are collapsing under the weight of responsibilities, unspoken pain, and undiagnosed illnesses. According to the World Health Organisation, men in sub-Saharan Africa, including Nigeria, are 2.4 times more likely to die prematurely from preventable causes than women. This alarming disparity is fuelled by cultural and behavioural factors: men are less likely to seek medical help, more likely to suppress emotional turmoil, and often glorify suffering in silence. In Nigeria, cardiovascular diseases, hypertension, and untreated mental health conditions are among the leading causes of sudden deaths in men. So This Happened (215) Reviews Death Of Lagos... In 2019, Pastor Taiwo Odukoya—admired for his strength and spiritual leadership—passed away quietly after years of enduring deep emotional losses and reportedly ongoing health complications. His resilience was legendary, but it masked what many now see as untreated grief, intense stress, and likely silent medical conditions. Then came the sudden death of veteran broadcaster Ayo Oduleye, better known as MC Loyo, who slumped while compering an event in Ibadan. His charm and humour lit up stages, but in the blink of an eye, the microphone fell silent. Just like that. Similarly, the passing of Mr Ibu (John Okafor) in early 2024, after months of battling illness, reminded the country of how many male entertainers struggle financially and physically behind the scenes, putting on a show while their bodies deteriorate. Masculinity, when warped, can become a silent weapon—not just against others, but against oneself. *ENDEAVOUR TO TAKE GOOD REST PLEASE* Globally, the story remains the same. In 2014, beloved comedian Robin Williams died by suicide, a victim of masked depression. And in 2022, cricket legend Shane Warne died suddenly of a heart attack, a casualty of silent coronary disease and an overstretched lifestyle. Yet while statistics shock and headlines haunt, the everyday grind of the average Nigerian man tells an even sadder tale. Take Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial capital—the city that never sleeps, and where many men now barely do. A significant number of working-class men reside on the mainland or in Ogun border towns like Mowe, Ikorodu, Sango Ota, or Ibafo but must commute to the Island for work—a journey that often begins by 4:00 a.m. and ends by 9:00 p.m. on return. This is no exaggeration. Studies from the Lagos Metropolitan Area Transport Authority reveal that Lagosians spend an average of four to six hours daily in traffic—with many men doing these five to six times a week. That is over 1,400 hours a year lost in gridlock—time stolen from rest, from family, from reflection. For these men, the day begins before the rooster crows. They rush into overcrowded buses, endure fumes of frustration, only to return home when their children are already asleep. There is no room for hobbies, hardly any time for checkups, no outlet for pain. Sleep is a luxury. Rest is a myth. And joy is rationed, like fuel in a scarcity season. This modern man is constantly running on empty—physically present but emotionally absent, financially committed but spiritually depleted. And society applauds his hustle, without asking at what cost. The idiom says, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” but what if the crown is invisible, made not of gold but of expectations, bills, unspoken grief, and sacrificial silence? Men are praised for providing, for showing up, for being “rocks”. But even rocks erode—silently, slowly, and then all at once. The greatest tragedy is not that they die, but that they are dying unseen. Consider the tragic case of a 42 year old engineer in Port Harcourt who collapsed at his workstation after weeks of working overtime to meet project deadlines. His colleagues described him as “dedicated to a fault”, but his sudden death revealed the dangers of ignoring signs of burnout and hypertension. Another heartbreaking example is the story of a young entrepreneur in Enugu who passed away in his sleep after complaining of chest pains for weeks. Despite his family’s pleas, he refused to visit a doctor, citing his busy schedule and financial obligations. His autopsy later revealed undiagnosed cardiovascular disease—a silent killer that could have been managed with timely intervention. One unforgettable story is that of Samuel Okwaraji, the gifted footballer and patriot who gave everything to his country on the football pitch. In 1989, during a World Cup qualifier against Angola in Lagos, Okwaraji collapsed and tragically died of congestive heart failure at just 25 years old. His life, so full of promises, was cut short under the intense demands of national expectation. The harsh conditions of the game that day, combined with the immense physical and psychological pressures he faced, ultimately proved too much. These stories compel us to ask: What are we doing to ourselves in the name of strength? Why does the world celebrate silent suffering but frown upon seeking help? Dr Salawu Abiola, a psychiatrist at the Federal Neuro Psychiatric Hospital in Yaba, offers critical advice for men navigating these pressures. He emphasises the importance of prioritising rest, adequate sleep, and regular health checkups. “If you work and die today, someone will replace you at the workplace, but no one replaces you in the family,” he warns. Abiola advocates setting realistic goals, managing time effectively, and creating moments of joy and relaxation amid life’s challenges. He also highlights the need for men to engage in positive activities, such as exercise, hobbies, and socialising with supportive people, to release built-up tension and foster mental well-being. Check your vitals before you check your wallet. Monthly profit means nothing if your heart gives out unexpectedly. Your strength is not in how much you carry but in how well you manage your load. Therapy is not weakness. It is a repair. Just like a car needs servicing, your mind and soul need realignment. Build relationships where you are more than a provider—where you are allowed to cry, collapse, confess. A good name is better than riches, but good health is the foundation of both. As Chinua Achebe once said, “When the drumbeat changes, the dance must also change.” The drumbeat of life today is faster, louder, and less forgiving. Men must adjust their rhythm. Health is the new wealth. Silence is no longer golden; it is dangerous. *Ganiyu Olowu, a public affairs analyst, writes from Lagos*. punchng.com ©️ 1971- 2025 Punch Nigeria Limited *MAY WE ALL LIVE LONG IN JESUS NAME* 🙏 CULLED #olufaderomi #grace

My father used to teach us a lesson: Speak less. Listen more. Never underestimate silence. As I reflect on it now, I wonder does this always hold true in real life? Is silence always the strongest move in tough situations? Or are there times when speaking out is just as powerful? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

™ 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

Life of a real estate consultant. #realestate #sarahdalandlady #landbanking