Coach Albani

13/07/2025

Former President Muhammadu Buhari, GCFR is dead.

29/06/2025

HE DIED CALLING FOR HIS MOTHER

The morning sun hid behind thick clouds, as though ashamed of what the earth was about to witness.

They pulled this man through the narrow path that led to the village square—not like a human being, but like a rag, like a thing. His knees were bruised, his hands tied so tight they had turned purple. His shirt was torn, soaked in sweat, tears, and blood.

People shouted. Some spat. Others pointed.
“Criminal.”
“Wicked boy.”
“He should be killed.”
“What did he steal?” someone asked from the crowd.

The shopkeeper screamed: “My market money! Twenty-five thousand naira! He entered when I stepped out. Who else could it be?”

His lips were quivering. His voice came out dry and cracked. “I didn’t take anything. Please… I swear on my mother’s life…”
But his voice was drowned in anger.
Nobody believed him.

The first stone hit his forehead. He screamed, not just from pain—but from disbelief.
A man kicked him in the ribs. He fell, gasping.
Another hit. Then another.
They didn’t stop.
Children watched.
Mothers joined in.
Elders stood still.

As blood poured from his nose and mouth, His voice broke through the chaos:
“Mama! Mamaaa… help me!”

But his mother… she wasn’t there.
She had gone to fetch firewood that morning, not knowing her only son was being murdered.

They brought out a tyre.
Someone had petrol.
They poured it.
He cried louder, begged harder, shaking like a wounded animal.

“Please… I didn’t do it. I didn’t… I want to live…”

But mercy was already gone.
And then—the matchstick.

The fire roared. His scream tore through the sky.
He tried to crawl out, but someone pushed him back with a stick.
His fingers burned as he reached out for help that would never come.
His lips moved one last time, and no one could hear what he said-but maybe, it was “I’m sorry”, or maybe, “I’m afraid.”

And then… silence.

Moments later—too late—a boy ran into the crowd, out of breath, his voice shaking:
“It wasn’t him! I swear! It was the shopkeeper’s cousin. She took the money. She just confessed to me in tears.”

The crowd froze.
Mouths hung open.
Eyes stared at their bloodstained hands.

A woman began to scream. Another fainted.

They had burned an innocent soul.

A boy with dreams.
A boy whose only crime was being poor.
A boy who called for his mother till his final breath.

The clouds above could hold it no longer.
Rain began to fall.

Not to wash away their guilt,
But to mourn with the heavens.

We live in a world where accusations spread faster than truth.
Where a single voice can sentence a soul.
Let us not let anger blind us. Let us not forget humanity.

Tomorrow, it could be your brother.
Or your son.
Or you. 😔💔

Source: Mofiinternational Usman | Facebook

22/06/2025

The history of
began with the discovery of two critical principles: The first is camera obscura image projection, the second is the discovery that some substances are visibly altered by exposure to light[2]. There are no artifacts or descriptions that indicate any attempt to capture images with light sensitive materials prior to the 18th century.
View from the Window at Le Gras 1826 or 1827, believed to be the earliest surviving camera photograph.[1] Original (left) and colorized reoriented enhancement (right).
Around 1717, Johann Heinrich Schulze used a light-sensitive slurry to capture images of cut-out letters on a bottle. However, he did not pursue making these results permanent. Around 1800, Thomas Wedgwood made the first reliably documented, although unsuccessful attempt at capturing camera images in permanent form. His experiments did produce detailed photograms, but Wedgwood and his associate Humphry Davy found no way to fix these images.
In 1826, Nicéphore Niépce first managed to fix an image that was captured with a camera, but at least eight hours or even several days of exposure in the camera were required and the earliest results were very crude. Niépce's associate Louis Daguerre went on to develop the daguerreotype process, the first publicly announced and commercially viable photographic process. The daguerreotype required only minutes of exposure in the camera, and produced clear, finely detailed results. On August 2, 1839 Daguerre demonstrated the details of the process to the Chamber of Peers in Paris. On August 19 the technical details were made public in a meeting of the Academy of Sciences and the Academy of Fine Arts in the Palace of Institute. (For granting the rights of the inventions to the public, Daguerre and Niépce were awarded generous annuities for life.)[3][4][5] When the metal based daguerreotype process was demonstrated formally to the public, the competitor approach of paper-based calotype negative and salt print proce

15/06/2025

This old man is sick oo

06/06/2025

30/05/2025

KBeautiful Actres with and also known as in movie📽📺👈 Muhammad

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29/05/2025

25/05/2025

Story 3: Why You Should Travel Abroad with Loads of Īmān

I remember when I first landed in the UK. I was shocked😳, not because the sky looked different from Africa’s, but because the reality didn’t match what we were made to believe before relocating.
We had been told that once you arrive, you start packing money from a machine
😂literally! I thought jobs would be flowing like an endless stream.

But reality hit hard.

Just a few weeks in, my email was filled with rejection messages from every job I applied to. If you're based in the UK, you’ll definitely understand those numerous “Unfortunately…” emails I’m talking about.

It wasn’t just me. Many of us immigrants who came in 2022 faced the same issues. At some point, people got desperate. Bills were piling up, and school fees stared us in the face.

Then one morning in school, I met a lady from the southwest of Nigeria, just like me. We clicked instantly. I told her how rough it had been and that I still hadn’t found a job.
She said, “You better come to my church. I got a job just two weeks after landing. In fact, it was my pastor and church leaders who are Nigerians that fed and supported many of us when we were stranded. They gave me accommodation, furnished it, even set me up with essentials. I know you’re a Muslim, but you better not suffer in silence. Some of your Muslim brothers and sisters are already coming to our church. Our Redeem church here is doing very well, free food, clothes, job connections.”

She wasn’t exaggerating. Some of our mutual friends confirmed everything she said. And when I visited her to buy some Nigerian foodstuffs she was selling, I saw the big plasma TV and comfy couches her church had given her.

But still, I didn’t go to her church. I wasn’t moved by the material things. I knew that even moving from one state to another in Nigeria comes with early struggles, how much more moving to a whole new country with a completely different system.

During that same period, I had visited both the community and university masjids multiple times. No one send us🤣. No one asked if I was new or needed help or support, just come, pray, and go to your house😀
One of my Muslim course mates told me that he was so desperate and was considering going to the Redeem church too, just to pretend he was a Christian so he could get access to help and job opportunities.

Still, I stayed put. I focused on my own lane.

Fast forward three years later: we’re all doing okay now aliamdulillah .
Do we have jobs? Yes.
Accommodation? Yes.
Stability? Alhamdulillah, yes!

Myself who didn't go to church and those who went to the church are now settled. But I am grateful. Alhamdulillah, I wasn’t swayed by material things. Was it an easy journey? No. But did Allah come through for me? Absolutely👌

Eventually, a decent job came. Accommodation came. We were able to bring our kids over effortlessly. We got a stable visa, and we have continued to rise only by the help of Allah.

So, my advice: no matter how tough things get in the beginning, hold on tight to your īmān. It’s the best shield you can carry when traveling abroad.
Simply Saheedah