Mindviewers Stories

If you're an adult and still living with your parents, there are certain responsibilities you shouldn't allow them to take on.

This afternoon, as I was going about my way, I witnessed a disheartening scene.😔

An elderly woman from my street was struggling to trundle a wheelbarrow containing two jerricans of water.

This woman has two grown daughters living with her, and yet they allowed her to go outside to fetch water for them.

I felt pity for her and decided to assist her in pushing the wheelbarrow to her house.

I used to be absolutely petrified of cockroaches. The mere sight of them would send shivers down my spine, and I'd do everything in my power to avoid them. So, you can imagine my horror when, during a day of packing and organizing, a cockroach suddenly darted out and started scampering up the wall. Without a second thought, I sprang back from the door, letting out an involuntary yelp of surprise. It must have been a comical sight to anyone observing.

I cautiously waited, my eyes fixed on the cockroach as it effortlessly scaled the wall and attempted to sneak beneath the packed shelves. I simply couldn't bear the idea of a cockroach inhabiting the same space as my beloved books. With a sense of determination mixed with disgust, I grabbed my trusty can of insecticide.

Summoning up all my courage, I took aim and targeted the intruder. The spray hissed out, and the vile pest tumbled down. But determined and resilient, it rose again, undeterred by my attack. Disgusted, I unleashed another volley of insecticide, relentless until the roach finally succumbed and remained motionless.

In that moment, I felt a strange mix of triumph and revulsion, while also being incredibly relieved. The battle was won, and I could pack my books in peace, secure in the knowledge that no uninvited guests would be sharing their space. From that day forward, I always made sure to have that bug spray ready at all times!

(Scene opens with Mama Nkechi and Baba Chukwu sitting on wooden stools, sipping palm wine.)
Mama Nkechi: (sighs) Baba, have you thought about what we will do about Chinedu's education?
Baba Chukwu: (strokes his chin) Yes, it weighs heavily on my mind. Obi thrives at the university, but Chinedu seems uncertain.
(Enter Obi, bustling with energy.)
Obi: Mama, Baba! Have you decided to send Chinedu to the university?
Baba Chukwu: (nods) We are considering it, but we must ensure he is ready.
(Enter Ngozi, carrying books.)
Ngozi: Education is vital for Chinedu's future. He deserves the same opportunities as Obi and me.
Mama Nkechi: (nods) Yes, but we must tread carefully. Education is not just about books; it is about character.(Chinedu enters timidly.)
Chinedu: Mama, Baba, I want to learn, but I fear I am not as smart as Obi and Ngozi.
Mama Nkechi: (places a comforting hand on Chinedu's shoulder) You have your own strengths, my son. We will find the path that suits you best.(Enter Aunty Chioma, observing the scene.)
Aunty Chioma: (smiling) Perhaps it is time we seek guidance from the ancestors. They will show us the way.(Scene ends with the family gathered in a circle, offering prayers and seeking guidance.)

Act 2:(Scene opens with the family gathered around a fire, deep in conversation.)
Obi: Chinedu, you have the potential to excel. Do not doubt yourself.
Chinedu: (nods) I will do my best, for the sake of our family.
Ngozi: (offers support) We will help you every step of the way, Chinedu. You are not alone.
Baba Chukwu: (proudly) Our family is strong when we support each other. Chinedu, you carry our hopes for the future.
Mama Nkechi: (smiles) Let us embrace the journey ahead with courage and determination. Our ancestors guide us, and we walk the path together.
Aunty Chioma: (raises her cup) To Chinedu, may his journey be blessed with wisdom and success.(The family raises their cups in unison, symbolizing unity and support.)(Scene fades to black as they continue their discussions, united in their determination to support Chinedu's education.)(End of play.)

I was determined to conquer the day's chores with a dedicated approach. I rolled out of bed, feeling eager to get a head start on my laundry and house cleaning. With a fresh cup of tea in hand, I set about gathering and sorting the pile of dirty laundry. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, and I welcomed the early hour as an opportunity to make the most of my day.

I loaded up the washing basket, carefully adding detergent and setting to work
I swiftly moved through the rooms, picking up clutter, organizing stray items, and dusting surfaces. As the morning turned into afternoon, I was pleased with my progress. However, as the day progressed, I realized that time was slipping away from me.

After a moment of disbelief, I glanced outside and noticed the sun was already on its descent, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the house. I had underestimated the amount of time it would take to complete each chore, and it had quickly slipped into evening by the time I finished washing the plates, mopping the floors, and tidying up every corner of my home.

Despite the unexpected turn of events, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. My home was now tidy, my laundry was clean, and a wave of relief washed over me. I may have started early with the intention of finishing early, but the satisfaction of completing everything I had set out to do was worth the extra time and effort.

I used to love cooking tomato stew, but for some reason, it had been ages since I last made it. Perhaps I just got caught up with the hustle and bustle of being a student and somehow lost track of my favorite recipe. It wasn't that I hated it, I just couldn't find the time to prepare it. However, today was different. I had an early morning start and decided it was the perfect opportunity to finally indulge in the savory delight I had been craving.

I ventured to the market and carefully selected the freshest tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, and all the necessary spices to conjure up the perfect stew. I was ready to embrace the aromas and flavors that I had missed for so long. As I returned from the market, all eager to commence my cooking adventure, I was halted by an unexpected hurdle. I realized that I had run out of gas, and it was a pressing issue that needed to be addressed before I could bring my culinary dreams to life.

With a sense of inconvenience looming over me, I hurried to sort out the gas situation. As luck would have it, I was further delayed by an unexpected exam at school. The exam began late, and we were left waiting for what seemed like an eternity before we even started. Frustrated but determined, once the exam had concluded, I dashed home with renewed purpose.

Eagerly, I busied myself in the kitchen, chopping the vegetables and seasoning the pot with care. Once I had replenished my gas cylinder and ensured everything was in order, I finally started cooking. As the rich aroma of the stew filled my apartment, I savored the anticipation of what was to come.

Congratulations to me!!!

After many years of feeling the solitude and isolation of being single, I'm finally in a relationship with someone special.

However, something odd happened yesterday that left me feeling worried and hurt. I don't know if you've experienced something similar in your relationship, but I feel like I should share my experience.

So yesterday, while i was in the room with the apple of my eye, her phone rang. She picked it up and left the room without saying a word.

My curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to follow her. When she noticed me, she became defensive and refused to answer the call.

As I tried to take the phone from her, I saw the name of the caller on the screen "Emekslagbenz".

Please if your name is Emeka, you live in lagos , and you drive a Mercedes Benz, have some respect and leave my relationship alone!!!😐

I wanted to talk to my sister after a long day, so I called her this evening. We struck up a casual discussion as soon as she answered, talking about everything from our meal to the most recent developments regarding the condition of the home.

However, while we spoke, the subject of our parents' wellbeing unexpectedly came up in our chat. The thought that I'm witnessing my parents age struck me like a wave bashing on the shoreline, conveying a multitude of mixed emotions in me.

I loved the chance to connect with my sister with our mutual worry for our parents, even though I realized how depressing that was. It served as a moving reminder of how important family is and how quickly time passes. But even while we had a deep conversation, there was something that was bothering me in the background. My original intention was to ask my sister whether there was anything unique I should add to my soup recipe, but the conversation had gotten away from me.

It took me almost twenty minutes into our talk before I realized why I had called. I laughed sheepishly and apologized to my sister for taking me off course. I then hurriedly asked her what component I required.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before saying our goodbyes and agreeing to speak soon. Even though it occasionally meant straying from the main topic of our chat, I couldn't help but feel thankful for my sister and the close link we had for our family as I hung up the phone.

I was disturbed last night by a relentless buzzing, the familiar sound of mosquitoes on the prowl. No matter how many times I swatted, turned on fans, or used repellent, those persistent insects seemed to always find a way to bother me. I had made up my mind that enough was enough; I needed a more potent solution. As soon as the morning light filtered through my window, I headed out to buy an insecticide.

After a trip to the store, I had the insecticide in hand. I followed the instructions carefully and sprayed it throughout my room before retiring for the night. I decided to give the room some time to clear of fumes, standing outside for a while and patiently waiting for the action to take place. Finally, when I returned to my room, I felt confident that I could finally enjoy a mosquito-free evening.

However, as night fell, I was awakened by the familiar hum of mosquitoes. In disbelief, I turned on my flashlight, hoping to catch a glimpse of my adversaries, but there was nothing to be seen. I found myself questioning whether I was simply on the verge of numbness to the bites or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Perhaps, after battling with mosquitoes for so long, I no longer recognized the sensation of my skin being left untouched and the bites themselves. It seemed I could no longer differentiate between being bitten and simply the feeling of being preyed upon by the small, relentless pests so accustomed to bugging me.

As I sat back in my chair, my belly content and satisfied from a good evening meal, my mind drifted back to a particular childhood memory. I vividly recalled a day when I had ventured into my neighbor's compound to play with children of my age. We were all having a great time, running around and laughing, when my attention was drawn to the luscious, ripe fruits hanging from a tree near the neighbor's house.

As I watched the neighbor prepare a batch of my favorite meal, spaghetti, my eyes lingered on the tempting fruits, and I made a silent promise to pluck them as soon as the opportunity arose. It wasn't long before I seized my chance and scurried over to the tree, successfully grabbing two ripe oranges. However, my victory was short-lived as I was struck by a sudden, sharp pain on my lips. A bee had stung me, and the sensation was excruciating.

The pain seemed to radiate throughout my entire being, overwhelming all of my senses. Tears welled up in my eyes as the burning sensation persisted, and I found myself crying out in distress. The experience was a stark reminder that even the most innocent of actions could lead to unexpected and painful consequences. As I reminisced on this incident, I couldn't help but let out a rueful chuckle. Oh, the adventures of childhood and the lessons we learn along the way.

As the night deepened, anticipation for Easter morning filled the air. With excitement brewing, I patiently waited till midnight for the electricity to return, eager to embark on my culinary journey. At last, the lights flickered on as the clock struck twelve!
I wasted no time in gathering my supplies, which included juicy tomatoes, colorful peppers, and fragrant spices, in order to make a delectable half stew to commemorate Easter's arrival. I slowly blended the tomatoes and peppers into a smooth, colorful combination, each swirl bringing me closer to the delicious dinner that was waiting for me.

Stirring the stew, I wondered if I was the only nyctophilic person in this residence, all lodge occupants had gone silent in sleep. For quite a long while, there was a greater tendency to cook at night, I found no peace in cooking under daylight. Why sleep at 10pm? Are we chickens or what? The aroma of the stew penetrated my nostrils — such a delight, it was time to retire for the night.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

I returned from church, worn out from the scorching sun. Relaxing for some minutes before preparing rice will be ideal but this moment was short-lived. First, the smell of fried ripe plantain poked my nostrils then the aroma of chickens followed suit. 'What's going on, this is just Easter,' laying down won't satisfy my curiosity, I sprung to my feet and headed for the balcony, there — 3 ladies were busy frying, each a full chicken.

Surely, this wasn't a dream, these traitors had been laying strategies and planning for this very day. I couldn't bear the sight anymore and retreated into my room, grabbed a drink and gulped down half of its content.
Took few minutes to decide and resolved to visit the market, maybe I'd get a good meat to level up this stew. At the end of the market tour, we had just enough to spice things up.

The important thing was being thankful for coming this far, the last day of the month; one well spent and filled with lovely moments worth cherishing.

My brother's voice, sweet and soulful, always serenaded our home. It was a symphony that filled every nook and cranny, his melodic tunes dancing through the kitchen, drifting through the halls, and fluttering into every corner of our modest abode. I cherished every note, every verse that flowed effortlessly from his lips as he went about his daily chores.

I'd catch him humming while he washed the dishes or breaking into song as he took his bath, each melody a passion-filled declaration of his enduring love affair with music. His voice was his constant companion, weaving a tapestry of joy and rhythm into our everyday lives.

My brother, with dreams as vast as the horizon, yearned for the grandeur of the music world, with aspirations akin to the likes of Davy Doe, Wizkid, CK, and Rema. He poured his heart and soul into his craft, meticulously penning down verses, creating compositions that oozed with a professional polish far beyond his years. His notebooks brimmed with dreams and ambitions, each song a testament to his artistry.

I marveled at his talent, so rare and bewitching, and I often pondered if he was already a burgeoning artist. As I navigated through the world of school, his melodious tone wafted through my thoughts, a soothing reminder of his artistic ambitions.

His songs carried the yearnings of a boy on the cusp of greatness, and I, the lucky listener, was privy to every exquisite note. His vocals were a lighthouse in the desolate sea of everyday life, guiding me to moments of joy and solace. With each splendid trill, I could hear the echoes of his boundless aspirations, each verse singing of a future brimming with stardom.

My brother's voice was the heartbeat of our home, a tender reminder of the wondrous dreams that reside in the heart of a boy destined for greatness.

Today was one of those days, you know? Kinda lazy, with a hint of "I really don't want to do anything" vibes. After all those exam fights a few days back, it felt like I needed a break, a day to just chill before diving into another paper. So, I decided to embrace the laziness and take it easy.

I mean, even cooking felt like too much work, so I hit up my favorite place and scored three humongous wraps of okpa. Yep, comfort food, all the way. They were like cozy little bundles of joy that I devoured without any guilt. Total lazy day food, you know?

Later in the afternoon, I finally dragged myself out of the bed, and I remembered I had these ripe plantains just waiting to be fried. So, I made my way to the kitchen with that lingering "I really can't be bothered" feeling. But hey, I was determined to give myself a little treat, so I heated up the oil, chucked in the plantains, and just watched them sizzle.

But here's the plot twist: as I was standing there, giving minimal effort to this whole cooking thing, one of the plantains decided to get a little wild and, next thing you know, it's jumping out of the frying pan. And guess where it landed? Yep, right smack dab in my mouth. I mean, seriously? How lazy can a plantain be that it doesn't even want to stay in the pan?

To be frank, I ate each plantain as soon as it left left the hot oil.
It was memorable though and I thank myself for making very good use of today.

For me, the night had a special allure—a sacred time of self-analysis and regeneration. It was during these quiet hours that I found clarity amidst the bustle of the day, enabling my thoughts to wander freely and my spirit to soar unrestrained. With each passing instant, I felt a sense of calm spread over me, a gentle reassurance that everything would be well.

I'd spent a lot of time with my friends over the last week from enthusiastic chats over books to impromptu outings, every moment spent in their company has been a treasure. We've enjoyed the simple pleasures of friendship, basking in the warmth of each other's company and the bond that unites us.

As I looked out the window, the world beyond appeared to sleep softly bathed in the silvery radiance of the moon. In that instance, I felt a fresh perception of purpose growing inside me, a quiet anticipation of the new week.
Looking ahead to the week ahead, I felt a surge of exhilaration racing through my veins.

Feeling driven, I decided to workout a little before relaxing, which is one of the finest ways I can start a fueled fire of purpose. I peacefully relaxed against the wall after 45 push-ups, certain that I had completed my day's work and that the week would be a productive one.

One evening, a man heard his neighbour screaming angrily. She was yelling at her own five year old son. She spanked him several times, until the boy began to cry. He cried for a long time, then stopped. The man was left confused and worried.

The following day, in the evening, the man heard his neighbour yelling at her son again. He heard the boy pleading with his mother for mercy. However, his mother beat him severely and threatened to pour hot water on him. It became clearly obvious to thean that the mother was abusing her own child.

The man quickly left his house and went to the police station in the next town to report the situation. He told them, "my neighbour is a bad mom, a very bad mom. She uses hard objects such as belt, stick and cain to hit her child. She even threatened to hurt the boy with hot water. She should be arrested, and the child be taken away from her!".

The police asked,
How long has this been going on?"

The man replied,
"It has been quite a long time, but i noticed it yesterday. I heard everything with my own two ears. I'm very sure!"

The police needed evidence to proceed with the case, so they gave the man their number and asked him to contact them immediately if the incident happened again.

The following evening, the man heard his neighbour yelling at her son again and beating him.
He immediately called the police who assured him they were on their way.

Few minutes later, th3 police arrived along with the man, they all stormed into the mother's house. Upon seeing the mother and her son, one of the police said to her,
I'm officer Clinton, and you are under arrest for child abuse. "

However, to their suprise, the boy burst into laughter. The mother then looked at her son and they both smiled at each other. She paused for a moment, then said,

" I actually Don't know what you're talking about. Just to let you know, my son has an upcoming drama presentation in his school. I promised I'd help him rehearse which we started two days ago. The drama is about a little boy whose abusive mother would get so drunk and beat him up pretty bad. Did you actually think I was hurting my own child?

The police officers were disappointed and turned to the man who was filled with shame and embarrassment. Then one of them said to the man. We understand that you were concerned about the boys safety, but sometimes in life, things are not always what they seem.

Moral lesson: we need to understand that what we perceived in our minds, might not always be exactly truth. And if we are not careful, we could be sharing false information that can have serious consequences. We should learn to look closer or study situations to know what's exactly going on. We need to do our research and get facts straight before throwing labels on people. False accusations are a serious matter which could be a result of our misunderstanding. "

I spent the entire day cooped up inside my home, hoping and waiting for the electricity distribution company to restore power. My plans for the day included catching up on some reading, completing my online tasks, and perhaps even binge-watching a new series. However, my expectations were soon met with disappointment as the hours passed and the power remained out without even a hint of returning. It was as if the entire world around me had been swallowed by the darkness, leaving me alone with my thoughts and dwindling phone battery.

From the crack of dawn until the last glimmer of twilight, I sat by the window, eagerly awaiting any sign of the lights flickering back on. I tried distracting myself with some old-fashioned reading under the dim light of a candle, but it was evident that my mind kept wandering back to the hope of the power returning and granting me some respite from the darkness.

As the clock struck 7:09 am, I realized that there was no point in waiting any longer. I proceeded to gather all my devices in need of charging, including my phone, laptop, and tablet, and hastily made my way out the door. With a determination to still make something of the day, I set off to school, knowing that the library would be the perfect place to spend the evening and recharge my devices. The prospect of a productive night ahead, filled with studying and the comfort of knowing I could charge my devices, helped ease the disappointment of a day wasted in darkness.

I arrived at the quiet campus, the moon casting a silvery glow over the grounds as I made my way to the library. As I settled into a quiet corner, I couldn't help but appreciate the calm and tranquility that enveloped the campus after the hustle and bustle of the day. Eventually, I found a cozy spot with a power outlet and settled in with my books and notes, ready to make the most of my evening.

The hours passed by in a blur as I delved into my studies, savoring the luxury of being able to power my devices and have uninterrupted access to resources for the night. The library's serene ambiance provided a welcome backdrop to my focused study session, allowing me to lose myself in the tasks at hand without the distractions that often accompany working at home.

Late into the night, as the quiet hum of the library filled the space around me, I felt a sense of accomplishment and contentment. Although the day had started with disappointment, the opportunity to make use of the school's facilities and immerse myself in my academic pursuits left me with a renewed sense of purpose and productivity. As I packed up my belongings and prepared to head home, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events. Though the day had not unfolded as planned, it had offered a valuable lesson in resilience and adaptability, leaving me with a newfound appreciation for the simplicity of finding comfort and solace in unexpected places

I've been getting a lot of messages since last night on what I did when I found out my uncle was staffing my daughter.

Well, the daughter he thought was his.
I said I didn't know if I should be angry my uncle was committing such atrocious act with my daughter or I should be vexed that he was indulging in incest.

I was pained. I won't lie to you. My own daughter. My very fine daughter.

"Call me daddy!" He growled.

Slurry, she moaned, "dad-daddyy!"

How ridiculous? How could you call your father "daddy ' in such a position?

I snuck to the kitchen and grabbed a fork. I was too vexed to look at what I got hold of.

I stormed in to see they both had relented.
Soaked in baked bolls of intimidating sweat that stunk moist.

Uncle, how the fuck can you-"

"Can you do what? He cut me short. "Eh,
Michael? Can I do what exactly?" He barked at me. "How can I enjoy your sweet daughter, eh? He was sarcastic as he stroked her braided hair.

My foolish child that came swimming out of me wasn't moved. She gave out gullible smiles like she had been hypnotised?

You think I dunno how you and my wife have been sneaking around? Eh stupid boy!"

Guilt swallowed me. I felt the ground should've opened and swallowed me.

I charged with force and plunged the fork in his throat. The force was so firm the tips came out the other side.

He let out coughs that purged out blood,
Falling headlong to the already stained bed.

"Uncle! You keeled daddy!" Mt daughter screamed out.

Just then , my uncles wife storms in ferociously kissing man. Oblivious of the dire matter at hand.
She turned to see blood stained scene.
We all just stood in awe.

Now, what do I do?" I thought.......

Woke up too early for a Monday adventure, it wasn't even 7am yet, the previous night was brain wracking. A couple of hours were invested into battling with the anatomy of nerves. Midnight struck right when I couldn't bear the weight on my head anymore, a reminder that the weekend is over? Or a wake-up call to the tasks that have laid siege throughout the week.

At 8am, I sprung to my feet, whispered words of prayers and left bed to avoid dozing off again. Grabbed my toothbrush, "Another day, same old routine." It was amazing to reflect on my productivity in recent weeks, staying committed to improving everyday academically was challenging but my perseverance won't let it flop.

An impromptu information arrived, a class scheduled for midday had been revised for an earlier time; about three hours back, I wasn't well disposed for this. I weighed my priorities, investing that time to push forward with a topic I've been trying to understand will prove advantageous.
With the resolution, I proceeded to prepare breakfast and set up the day before time closes down on me. A while later, we completed yet another cooking conquest, a win for the tummy and an headstart for the day.

Alas! Everything was set, I smelt the fresh air and affirmed, "Today is a delightful day!" I don't know how far I can go today, but I'm determined to pull out all the stops to have a productive day. What's left will be tackled another day, let's seize the present while it lingers.

Last week, I bought a fresh pair of shoes for school. They were pristine and white, and I was proud to wear them. But then, two days ago, I made a mistake that I'm still kicking myself for.

I had worn my new shoes in the rain and they ended up getting soaked through. After I got home, I decided to put them outside in the sun to dry. It was such a clear, sunny day, and I thought it would be the perfect way to dry them off. I left them out there for the whole day, confident they would be ready by the evening.

But as the day wore on, clouds rolled in, and the sun was chased away by thick gray blankets. I didn't even notice it was happening until it was too late. A sudden and unexpected rainstorm began to pour down, drenching everything in sight. I wasn't even thinking about my poor shoes— I was so used to the dry season that the idea of rain had completely slipped my mind.

By the time I remembered my shoes, it was already too late. They had been left outside in the downpour, completely at the mercy of the unrelenting rain. I had let them down, all because I wasn't thinking straight due to the unusual weather. When I went out to retrieve them, they were soaked through, no longer the sparkling shoes I had purchased just a week prior.

I brought them inside, trying to undo the damage, but it was clear that the rain had taken its toll. My once pristine shoes were now waterlogged and stained. I should have been more vigilant, should have heeded the change in the weather, but I had let my guard down, only to be caught off guard.

Now, I'm left with a pair of soggy, sorry shoes, and I can't help but wish I had been more attentive. It's a lesson I won't soon forget: in the ever-unpredictable weather of life, it's important to always think ahead and not take anything for granted.

Beyond Borders.
Once upon a time, in the heart of Nigeria, there was a vibrant youth corps member named Itoro, Itoro was a young Akwa Ibomite that was born and grew up in Port Harcourt where his parent resided, he was into sports back in the university of Port Harcourt and had an athletic body build, needless to say he was handsome, eager to make a difference during his National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) year. Assigned to a rural community in the eastern part of the country, Itoro found himself immersed in a world of new experiences and challenges.

It was during one of his community development projects that Itoro first laid eyes on Chiamaka, a local schoolteacher with a smile that could light up the entire village. She was black, tall, elegant and passionate about education, dedicated to improving the lives of her students.

As Itoro and Chiamaka crossed paths while working on various projects together, they discovered a shared love for community service and a desire to make a lasting impact. They spent countless hours brainstorming ideas, organizing events, and collaborating on initiatives to uplift their community.

Despite their cultural differences and the challenges they faced, Itoro and Chiamaka's friendship blossomed into something deeper. They found solace in each other's company, sharing dreams, aspirations, and the occasional laughter amidst their busy schedules.

As the months passed by, Itoro realized that Chiamaka was not just a friend but someone he couldn't imagine his life without. With the support of their friends and the community, Itoro mustered the courage to express his feelings to Chiamaka.

To his delight, Chiamaka felt the same way, and their bond grew stronger than ever. Together, they continued to serve their community with passion and dedication, inspiring others with their love story and commitment to making a difference.

When Itoro's service year came to an end, he made a promise to Chiamaka to return and build a future together in the village they had grown to love. With hearts full of hope and determination, they bid farewell to their fellow corps members, knowing that their love story was just beginning.... To be continued...
https://www.miva.university/?ref=mivarichard847

It was getting dark with the sunset, and I found myself lost in thought. Leaning against the balcony, I watched the world below, contemplating the affairs of life. Thoughts went through my mind like leaves caught in a gentle breeze, each one carrying with it a different emotion, a different perspective.

I couldn't help but wonder about the purpose of it all. What was the meaning behind the everyday routines, the struggles, the moments of joy and sorrow? Was there some design guiding the course of my life, or was it all just a series of random events?

As I pondered these questions, my thoughts turned to the people who had shaped my journey. Memories of laughter shared with friends, moments of heartache and many other thoughts occupied my mind. Each interaction, each relationship, had left a mark on my soul, shaping me into the person I am today.

But amidst the chaos of life, I also found moments of clarity. Moments when the noise of the world faded away, and I could hear the whisper of my own heart. In those moments, I realized that life wasn't about finding all the answers, but rather about embracing the journey, with all its twists and turns.

I may not have all the answers, but as long as I stay true to myself and follow my heart, I will find my way. And with that thought, I turned away from the balcony, closed my books and went home to face whatever tomorrow may bring.

My neighbours thing is Always different!

When Facebook went down this yesterday afternoon, it caused quite a stir. Everyone was logged out and couldn't get back in.

After an hour, the app was up and running again, but for my neighbour, the trouble was just beginning.

He tried and tried to log in, but something was amiss. His password was right, but he couldn't get access.

He told me to log in to my account to check his profile for him. When I did, I saw a white man's face in his profile picture.

Pls what does that mean?