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Greek mythology always leaves me pondering - it stuns me with the vivid pictures, then allows me to pick lessons.
So is the story of Antaeus. He was born of Poseidon and Gaia. Poseidon ruled over the seas, Gaia was the earth herself - the mother of Uranus.
Long before he was defeated by Heracles, Antaeus was always rumoured to be invincible. Stories recorded that Antaeus would wait at the entrance of Libya and force passersby to wrestle him - he always crushed them, piling their skulls so he could build a temple to his father, Poseidon.
This is where it gets interesting - he was only invincible as long as he maintained contact with Mother Earth. When Heracles eventually crushed him, Heracles did so by suspending him in the air, away from Mother Earth, crushing him in a bear hug.
In reflection, a lot of people have not been truly tested by the realities of the world because they have insulation. Insulation in systems, in parents, in their backgrounds. Just like Antaeus, the illusion of their strength is in contact with Gaia.
On the day Heracles decides to test your resolve, all it takes is for you to fall once, and if there is anything I know, it is the fact that a man who is used to standing and has never fallen will not be able to stand on the day he falls.
An extension of this conversation goes to parents who shield their children entirely from life's realities. You cannot apologise for having leverage in life, especially if your parents paved your way - but it is important to consistently stress-test how much of life you really can handle.
In the absence of the strength that grounds you, how do you survive?
JUST IN: 🇺🇸🇮🇷 Critics are saying it's "very convenient" that the US-Iran war 'ended' the day before SpaceX's IPO.
"What a coincidence. Perfect timing."
Sepsis kills more people in American hospitals than heart attacks. 350,000 deaths a year, and the reason is brutally simple: the early warning signs are almost invisible.
A slightly elevated heart rate. A small temperature shift. A lab value drifting in the wrong direction. Each one looks like noise on a busy ward. By the time the pattern is obvious to a human, the patient is hours into a cascade toward organ failure, and every hour of delayed antibiotics raises mortality.
Tampa General built a system on Palantir's Foundry that watches roughly 1,000 inpatients continuously. Vitals, labs, medication records, clinician notes, all scanned in real time for the pattern no single nurse can see across 12 beds at 3am. When risk crosses a threshold, a rapid response team gets paged. Humans still make every treatment decision. The software just compresses detection from hours to minutes.
The results since 2022: overall sepsis mortality cut in half, 48-hour deaths down 68%, length of stay down 30%, roughly 900 lives saved. At one hospital.
Now run the national math. There are about 6,100 hospitals in the US. If even the 500 largest matched these numbers, you'd be looking at tens of thousands of lives a year from a single use case. The treatment for sepsis hasn't changed. Antibiotics and fluids, same as decades ago. The entire gain comes from starting them earlier.
The hardest problem in medicine was never the cure. It was noticing in time.
Yesterday, I made a tweet enunciating inefficacy in Nigerian prayers.
Today, I throw light on a sector paralysed with systemic decay leading to outrageous death numbers.
In 2025, over 38000 casualties in Nigeria. Sweden recorded only 280.
Numbers don't lie.
So far, eight cases of #hantavirus have been reported, including three deaths.
While this is a serious incident, @WHO assesses the public health risk as low.
WHO will continue to work with all relevant governments and partners to provide care for those who are affected, protect the safety and dignity of passengers, and prevent onward spread of the virus.
You think I'm happy living abroad?
I have a family I grew up with, whom I love with all of my heart - and the reality keeps dawning on me, on how many times I will see them before I one day turn 60.
People I saw daily, or once a month - I haven't seen in years, and would realistically only see once a year, going forward.
You think I'm happy?
That one day, I might end up having children and my siblings might not have the relationship with them - the relationship I had with my uncles, in my formative years? I remember clearly how they would take us to MrBiggs every Sunday - I am currently reliving the flavour from that meatpie.
How we would go to the family house in Ikeja, every year for Eid. The grandchildren uniforms, the snacks while watching your uncles slaughter rams.
You think I'm happy that I might one day lead a family of children who might not know their version of that?
WTF will I be doing in another man's land, if I did everything they asked me to do from childhood (face your studies, be exceptional, stay away from crime, be hardworking) and opportunities lined up for me to be the best I could, in my motherland? WTF will I be doing here?
Why will I condescend myself to living in a clime where I have to mentally switch from sun burning weather to teeth clenching winter - when I came from a land where I never needed gloves? You think I'm happy?
If I could do honest work, be on my way home and not have to bother about the risk of getting shot by the people meant to protect me, because I have some lines of tattoos on my body - you think I would leave?
If I could trust a justice system to defend me, ensure my rights even though I am a nobody - have trustworthy institutions banking on the highest standards, not have to worry about the bread I eat, the fake drinks from the club or streets, the fake drugs - you think I would leave?
Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for the opportunities this clime has given me, to test my limits - to be everything I thought I could be. But all of these, in replacement for the soul I grew up with?
You know the satisfaction that settled within me when I could wake up on a Saturday morning, stroll to the Iya wanke's place - relish an entire plate, or some ewa agonyin while watching children battle it out, in a 5 v 5 across the streets.
That communal living that relished my soul, is now replaced with silent streets and finely divided sealed terraces.
You walk through the city centres in the evenings - you see friends having an aperitif (they do so every evening), you see grandfathers meeting up with their children, you see entire families with extended families living across the streets, first cousins are even able to use the same gym and you remember what that looked like for you back home?
You think of all your friends scattered across continents, some you might never get to hug again.
For a lot of diasporans, you don't want Nigeria to work more than us. A lot of us want to come home, but what is home? Where is home? When will home feel like home?
I hope to continue living life without lack, in comfort, with accomplished dreams - but I want to do so, with soul. When I die one day, I want to do so - with soul.
Fellow Nigerians, good morning.
I woke up this morning after my church service with a deeply reflective heart, and despite every constraint, I felt compelled to share these thoughts with you.
Many people do not truly understand the silent pains some of us carry daily—the private struggles, emotional burdens, and quiet battles we face while trying to survive and serve sincerely in difficult circumstances.
We now live in an environment that has become increasingly toxic, where the very system that should protect and create opportunities for decent living often works against the people—a society where intimidation, insecurity, endless scrutiny, and discouragement have become normal.
More painful is when some of those you associate with, believing you would find understanding and solidarity among them, become part of the pressure you face. Some who publicly identify with you privately distance themselves or join in unfair criticism.
We live in a society where humility is mistaken for weakness, respect is seen as a lack of courage, and compassion is treated as foolishness—a system where treating people equally is questioned simply because you refuse to worship status, tribe, class, or power.
Personally, I have never looked down on anyone except to uplift them. I have never used privilege, position, or resources to oppress others, intimidate the weak, or make people feel small. To me, leadership has always been about service, sacrifice, and helping others rise.
Let me state clearly: my decision to leave the ADC is not because our highly respected Chairman, Senator David Mark, treated me badly, nor because my leader and elder brother, Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, or any other respected leaders did anything personally wrong to me. I will continue to respect them.
However, the same Nigerian state and its agents that created unnecessary crises and hostility within the Labour Party that forced me to leave now appear to be finding their way into the ADC, with endless court cases, internal battles, suspicion, and division, instead of focusing on deeper national problems and playing politics built more on control and exclusion than on service and nation-building.
Even within spaces where one labours sincerely, one is sometimes treated like an outsider in one’s own home. You and your team become easy targets for every failure, frustration, or misunderstanding, as though honest contribution has become a favour being tolerated rather than appreciated.
And when you choose to leave so that those you are leaving can have peace, and you step out into the cold, you are still maligned and your character is questioned. Despite all your efforts to continue working for a better Nigeria and engaging people with sincerity and goodwill, those who do not wish you well continue to attack your character and question your intentions.
There are moments I ask God in prayer: Why is doing the right thing often misconstrued as wrongdoing in our country? Why is integrity not valued? Why is the prudent management of resources, especially when invested in critical areas like education and healthcare, wrongly labelled as stinginess? Why are humility and obedience to the rule of law often taken to be weakness rather than discipline?
Let me assure all that I am not desperate to be President, Vice President, or Senate President. I am desperate to see a society that can console a mother whose child has been kidnapped or killed while going to school or work. I am desperate to see a Nigeria where people will not live in IDP camps but in their homes. I am desperate for a country where Nigerian citizens do not go to bed hungry, not knowing where their next meal will come from.
Yet, despite everything, I remain resolute. I firmly believe that Nigeria can still become a country with competent leadership based on justice, compassion, and equal opportunity for all.
A new Nigeria is POssible. -PO
EFCC's Troubling Revelation on Our Students.
The worrisome statement by the Chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) that 6 out of every 10 Nigerian university students are involved in “419” is deeply troubling and must not be taken lightly.
Nigeria already has a very limited number of students in higher institutions, estimated at 2 to 2.5 million. If indeed about 60% of them, roughly 1.4 million young people, are involved in fraud, then we are not just facing a crime issue; we are confronting a serious moral and systemic failure.
The question we must ask ourselves is: what has brought us to this level? Who are the role models these students are looking up to?. What values are they learning from society?
We must understand that young people become what they consistently see. When a system appears to reward wrongdoing, when integrity is not upheld, and when those in leadership are associated with allegations of forgery and dishonesty without consequence, it sends a dangerous message.
It suggests that hard work does not matter, and that results, by any means, are acceptable. These points clearly point to a collapse of moral values.
As Socrates rightly said, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” Nigeria must now examine itself.
This is not about condemning our young people. It is about accepting that leadership sets the tone. If we do not demonstrate integrity at the top, we cannot expect it at the bottom.
We must urgently rebuild our value system, enforce accountability without bias, and create an environment where honesty, hard work, and discipline are rewarded. That is the only sustainable path to securing the future of our nation.
A new Nigeria is POssible! -PO
@jodambusta@keshiaford Kid #1 is clever, he figured it out
Kid #2 is wise, not wasting time on a problem that no longer needs to be solved
Kid #3 is competitive, even after he was given his bottle, he didn’t like that not being able to pass the challenge
Nurture their superpowers
There's a physicist at Stanford named Safi Bahcall who modeled this exact principle and the math is wild.
He calls it "phase transitions in human networks." When you're stationary, your probability of a lucky event is limited to your existing surface area: the people you already know, the places you already go, the ideas you've already been exposed to. Your opportunity window is fixed.
When you move, your collision rate with new nodes in a network increases nonlinearly. Double your movement (new conversations, new cities, new projects) and your probability of a serendipitous encounter doesn't double. It roughly quadruples. Because each new node connects you to their entire network, not just to them.
Richard Wiseman ran a 10-year study at the University of Hertfordshire tracking self-described "lucky" and "unlucky" people. The single biggest differentiator wasn't IQ, education, or family money. Lucky people scored significantly higher on one trait: openness to experience. They talked to strangers more, varied their routines more, and said yes to invitations at nearly twice the rate.
The "unlucky" group followed the same routes, ate at the same restaurants, and talked to the same 5 people. Their networks were closed loops. No new inputs, no new collisions.
Luck isn't random. Luck is surface area. And surface area is a function of movement.
The lobster emoji is doing more work than most people realize. Lobsters grow by shedding their shell when it gets too tight. The growth requires a period of total vulnerability. No protection, no armor, soft body exposed to the ocean.
That's the cost of movement nobody posts about. You have to be uncomfortable first. The new shell only hardens after you've already moved.