Chidera

Female.

[Oyinkansola Alabi (Dr.) @EmotionsDoctor]

I did my Masters degree at 36.

I moved to the United States at 38.

I joined the US Army at 39.

I got my US Citizenship at 40.

I started my PhD at 41.

I am building an African Play Center at 42.

Just do it. You will grow older anyway, so why don't you age with impact, influence and income?

[Apụnanwụ✨ @Bubee_O]

Forgot to gist you people how I sat beside one yt woman on the train today and she clutched her bag tight, so I dramatically clutched mine even tighter and even did a whole performance of shifting a little while looking fake terrified of her💀

[Omotayo Olokede @Iamkolotayo]

This is really not a good one.

Extremely heartbreaking 💔

[NaNa🌼✨ @sil_vee_yah]

Refusing to pray because of the guilt of your sins is like refusing to take your bath because you are dirty.

Today, don't let the voice of shame stop you from coming into His presence. He will not reject you.

Pray!

[Lilyallly❤️🇬🇧 @lilyally98]

Xenophobia

[Isla 🌺 @iamisla_]

Requesting sick leave in 2007:

Employee: “I’m sick today. I’m taking the day off.”

HR: “Approved. Get well soon.”
Requesting sick leave in 2026:

[No filter Skin @NoFilterSkin]

You cannot:

​Work full time, raise children, keep a spotless home, show up fully in your marriage, maintain friendships, stay fit, build wealth, read books, pursue hobbies, serve only home cooked meals, answer every email, and still make the 3:30 school pickup.

​That standard was created to keep you exhausted and blaming yourself. Let it go.

[Chidera @chee_dera]

@sindizulu86 You were "Monica-d". So sorry.

[Elizabeth🥳 @Deseiye_]

I was in a queue at a POS stand in Lagos when a little boy, maybe 10 years old, walked up.

He handed the agent ₦500 and said, “Aunty, help me send it to my mummy.”

The agent asked, “Where is your mummy dey?”

He replied, “Hospital.”

Everyone went quiet.

She asked again, “Why did you not go with her?”

The boy looked down and said,
“The doctor said they won’t touch her until we bring money.”

Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

Then the woman behind me stepped forward and said,
“How much do they need?”

Before you knew it, strangers started contributing.

That day, I realised something:
In Nigeria, people are struggling, but they still show up for one another.

[Tevin Macharia Mukabana @TevinMacharia]

I watched a Nigerian movie over the weekend, WHEN LOVE PRAYS, out of pure FOMO.

And honestly? It’s a well-produced film. The acting was solid, every character delivered, and the storytelling pulls you in. But as it got to the hospital scene towards the end, something in me paused.

I had to look beyond entertainment… and question the message.

The truth is, the entertainment industry has a strong power to shape culture and influence how people think. And if you’re not discerning, you’ll consume a message without even realizing it’s reshaping your convictions.

In this movie, an Imam’s son falls in love with a Pastor’s daughter. They get married without their parents’ consent. Eventually, “love wins,” and both families unite.

But beneath the surface, there’s a subtle message being pushed: That Christians and Muslims can unite in marriage because “we all serve the same God.”

You see scenes where: – The husband prays in the parlour (Islamic prayers)
– The wife is in the room speaking in tongues
– The wife follows the husband to the mosque
– But there’s no mention of her going to church

Then comes the child… Emmanuel Abdulrahman.

And you’re left asking: What exactly will that child grow up believing? Who will he serve? Or will he be taught to blend both?

This is how culture shifts. Quietly. Gradually.

It’s the same strategy used when certain things became normalized: – Sex scenes in movies started subtly… now nothing is hidden
– Cohabitation was presented as “getting to know each other”… now it’s standard
– Other ideologies were introduced through likable characters… and slowly accepted

This is not random. It’s influence.

And now, the same pattern is being applied to faith and marriage.

Young believers are watching. Young ladies are watching. Children are watching.

And the message being planted is: “It worked for them… it can work for me.”

But let’s be clear:

IT IS NOT NORMAL.
IT IS NOT CUTE.
IT IS NOT BIBLICAL.

“Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers…” — 2 Corinthians 6:14

This is not hate. This is conviction.

Marriage is not sustained by feelings alone. Love is powerful, yes—but it is not enough to carry a marriage that is divided at the foundation.

Even Abraham understood this. When it was time for Isaac to marry, he was intentional. He refused to let him take a wife from outside the covenant.

Because direction matters.

“Can two walk together except they be agreed?” — Amos 3:3

You cannot be heading in opposite spiritual directions and expect alignment in marriage.

So yes—appreciate the art. Celebrate the effort. But don’t blindly accept the message.

Not everything that looks beautiful is truth.

Jesus didn’t die, suffer, and rise again so we would compromise the very foundation of our faith.

He is not just a prophet. He is the Son of God. The Word made flesh. The Lamb that was slain. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

There are not two altars. There are not two paths.

There is ONE way.

“Salvation is found in no one else…” — Acts 4:12

His name is JESUS CHRIST.

SELAH.

[HIS EXCELLENCY KR @KunleRemi]

If you are awake, please give me 56 mins of your time. It will be worth it.

Click and feast.. https://t.co/woHwfHDRYP

[Halimah Ahmed (Tiwal'adire) @ahmedhalimah02]

Me: Dad I want to make my hair

Him : Go and make it now

Me: Money

Him: How much?

Me 3500 ( in my head; attachment x2=800, stylist=1000, transport and miscellaneous =1000. Pocket the rest)

Him: Ha! Isn’t it better if you barb it? My barber takes 100, it is when I want to dash him money that I pay 200

Me: OK goes back to my room

30 minutes later

Him: Aren’t you making your hair again?

Me: But you said I should go and cut it now

Him: you better do quick. I will not wait for you o. I’m going to town now.

Me : Rushed to the bathroom to take a bath and get ready

He drops me at the saloon

Him: Call me him when you’re done and gives me 3500

2hrs later he calls, are you done? I’m going home o

Me: We’re not even half done. I’ll just meet you at home

Him: aren’t you hungry

Me: I am very hungry, but I’ll just buy mineral and biscuits.

Him: OK don’t stay out too late.

Me: OK sir

A few moments later he calls again to ask how many of us were in the saloon? My dad brought food for all 3 of us. The woman making my hair asked if he was my boyfriend and I said my Dad, the other lady said maybe she is his only child. This man has 9 of us and he is like that with every single one

He went ahead to wait 2 extra hours just to take me home, so I don’t have to go home by myself at night.

Also the first to compliment my hair even though he complained about it being too much and too long.

That man has loved me my entire life, being actively present and I would give him the entire universe if I could.

[Chisom Agbafor @ChisomAgbafor]

This colleague of mine is always the first to arrive.

8:00am sharp.

She finishes her work early, keeps everything organized, but leaves by 5pm on the dot.

Meanwhile there’s this guy who stays till 8pm every night because there is no light in his house.

They called him “hardworking.”

That was the day I realized something:

Productivity doesn’t impress people.

Visible suffering does.

[JP Attueyi @jpattueyi]

Every Sunday at exactly 3:17 p.m., my father called me.

Not 3:15.
Not 3:20.
3:17.

It started a month after he retired.

At first, I thought it was boredom. Then habit. Then aging.

But it never changed.

If I picked up, he’d say the same thing:

“Are you home?”

If I said yes, he’d reply, “Good. Just checking,” and hang up.

If I said no, there’d be a pause.

Then he’d say, “Alright. Call me when you’re back.”

That was it.

No small talk. No updates. No “how are you?”

Just… checking.

My wife thought it was sweet.

I thought it was strange.

One Sunday, I decided not to answer.

I was home. I just let it ring.

At 3:18 p.m., he called again.

I ignored it.

At 3:19 p.m., my wife’s phone rang.

She frowned. “It’s your dad.”

I gestured for her not to answer.

The phone stopped.

At 3:21 p.m., the landline rang.

No one even has that number.

We stared at it.

It stopped after five rings.

At 3:24 p.m., someone knocked on the door.

Three sharp knocks.

Not aggressive.

Precise.

I opened it.

My father stood there.

Calm. Neatly dressed. Slightly out of breath.

“Why didn’t you answer?” he asked.

“I was busy.”

He looked past me into the living room.

“You’re home.”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly.

Then said something he’d never said before.

“Good.”

And he left.

That night, I drove to his house.

I needed to understand.

He lived alone since my mother passed. Same house I grew up in. Same curtains.

He opened the door before I knocked.

“You came,” he said.

“Dad, why do you call every Sunday?”

He studied me for a moment.

“Come in.”

We sat at the dining table.

He didn’t speak immediately. He rarely does.

Finally, he stood up and walked to a locked drawer in the hallway.

He pulled out a thin folder.

Inside were newspaper clippings.

House fires.

Robberies.

Gas leaks.

Carbon monoxide deaths.

All circled in red.

“Every single one,” he said quietly, “happened on a Sunday afternoon.”

I blinked. “That doesn’t mean..”

He held up a hand.

“When your mother died, I was in the garden.”

I swallowed.

“I was ten feet away. Ten feet. She called once. I didn’t hear her.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I promised myself,” he continued, “that if something ever happened to you, I would not be in the garden.”

My chest tightened.

“So you call me to make sure I’m alive?”

He looked at me steadily.

“No.”

A long pause.

“I call to make sure you answer.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

He leaned back in his chair.

“If you answer, I know you can.”

The words didn’t land immediately.

Then they did.

“If you couldn’t answer,” he continued calmly, “I would already be driving.”

My stomach dropped.

“You’ve been ready to come over every Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I said I wasn’t home?”

He nodded.

“I wait ten minutes. Then I check.”

A cold realization crept up my spine.

“Dad… how many times have you come?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked toward the window.

“Six.”

Six Sundays.

Six times he drove to my house.

Six times he must have stood outside.

Watching.

Making sure.

I tried to laugh it off.

“That’s extreme.”

He didn’t smile.

“You think emergencies schedule appointments?”

We sat there in heavy silence.

Then I asked the question that had been building all evening.

“Why 3:17?”

For the first time, his composure cracked.

“That’s the time on the hospital clock,” he said softly, “when they told me she was gone.”

The air left my lungs.

He wasn’t checking on me.

He was trying to outrun a minute.

Every Sunday.

For years.

I drove home that night differently.

The following Sunday at 3:16 p.m., my phone was in my hand.

At 3:17, it rang.

I answered on the first vibration.

“Hi Dad.”

There was a pause.

Then, for the first time ever, he said something new.

“I know.”

And he hung up.

[Muna @Munalozy]

Not cleaning the kitchen as you cook.

Opening the pot to check what I'm cooking.

Using same spoon to serve both rice and stew.

Brushing your teeth In the kitchen sink.

Mixing that iron sponge with the normal one while washing.

Not washing your plate after eating.

Not soaking the pot after the food is finished, and then it becomes difficult to wash.

Not drying the sink after whatever you're doing there.

Using one sponge to wash both plate and glasses.

Dropping pure water nylon In the sink.

Washing cups after washing oily plates.

Don't return leftover to the pot please.

[Nicki 🫧🪷 @nickimoraa]

Girl to girl, please start creating again. Write. Draw. Color. Read. Dance. Craft. Your soul misses it.

[Thrilla the Gorilla @ThrillaRilla369]

I am in love with this sentence:

“Forgive yourself for not knowing earlier what only time could teach."

[Simons @Simon_Ingari]

“Can I bring my baby to the interview?”

The message came in at 11 PM:

“Hi, I have an interview with you tomorrow at 2 PM. My childcare fell through. Can I bring my 8-month-old? I understand if you need to reschedule.”

Old me would have rescheduled.
Unprofessional. Distraction. Red flag.

New me replied:
“Absolutely. See you tomorrow.”

She showed up with her baby on her hip.
She apologized three times before even sitting down.

Ten minutes in, the baby started crying.
She tried to soothe him while answering questions.
She apologized again.

I stopped the interview and said:

“Hey. You’re managing a fussy baby, answering complex questions, and staying calm under pressure. That’s literally the job. Handling chaos while staying professional. You’re already proving you can do it.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

We hired her.

She’s been with us for a year now.
The most reliable team member we have.

Why?

Because when you’re used to handling a screaming infant at 3 AM and still showing up to work the next day, workplace stress feels like nothing.

Working parents, especially mothers, are some of the most organized, efficient, and resilient people you’ll ever hire.

Yet we lose them because our hiring processes are built for people with zero caregiving responsibilities.

If your interview process can’t accommodate a parent facing a childcare issue, you’re not filtering for professionalism.

You’re filtering for privilege.

[Amarachi Attamah @amarachiattamah]

As the year ends, remember to relearn that:

📌
LION is ỌDỤM

LEAOPARD is AGỤ

📌

It is ÌGBÒ not IBO.

The people - NDỊ IGBO
Language - ÁSỤ̀SỤ́ ÌGBÒ
Land - ALA ÌGBÒ

It is Igbo in all context.

📌

Igbo Language Alphabe (Mkpụrụ Edemede) has 36 letters, which contains:

8 vowels -Ụdaume
28 consonants - Mgbochiume
9 diagraphs- Ụdamkpị
2 letters which sometimes function as pseudo vowels Myiriụdaume.

🌀🌀🌀🌀
Igbo amaka.

#igbocultureeducation
#IgboglobalAmbassador
#Mmụta
#Igbo

[Peter "Oga Peter" Nwoko @peero007]

As an aviator, I really love this analogy. Let me add one layer from inside the cockpit.

In aviation, we don’t just recover a black box, we recover two critical records:

• FDR (Flight Data Recorder) – what the aircraft did
• CVR (Cockpit Voice Recorder) – what the humans said, didn’t say, or how they said it

The truth is usually found in the gap between data and dialogue.

Interestingly, many accidents weren’t caused by engine failure alone, but by:

1. Hesitation instead of clarity
2. Silence instead of challenge
3. Deference instead of teamwork

That’s why modern aviation emphasizes Crew Resource Management (CRM), because rank doesn’t silence risk, everyone speaks up, ane systems are designed to catch human limits. (One subject we learn is "Human Performance Limitations")

So when we apply Black Box Thinking to life, we shouldn’t only ask: “What happened?” (FDR)

We must also ask: “What conversations did I avoid?” “What warnings did I ignore?” “What truths did I soften?”

2025 has its FDR and its CVR, so it's not just what went wrong, but what you told yourself while it was going wrong.

Open both! That’s how we design a safer flight into 2026.