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Beyonce blowing up the internet again with this powerful song! Lyrics Brown skin girl Your skin just like pearls The best thing in the world Never trade you for anybody else Singin' brown skin girl Your skin just like pearls The best thing in the world I never trade you for anybody else, singin' She said she really grew up poor like me Don't believe in nothin' but the Almighty Just a likkle jeans and a pure white tee She never did forever be nobody wifey, yeah So while I may not pretty boy, your heart is amiss Play it like a villain 'cause she caught in a wave Tonight I am walkin' away Lined up my mind, on the grind, yeah, yeah Tonight I might fall in love, dependin' on how you hold me I'm glad that I'm calmin' down, can't let no one come control me Keep dancin' and call it love, she fightin' but fallin' slowly If ever you are in doubt, remember what mama told me Brown skin girl, ya skin just like pearls Your back against the world I never trade you for anybody else, say Brown skin girl, ya skin just like pearls The best thing inna di world I never trade you for anybody else, say Pose like a trophy when Naomis walk in She need an Oscar for that pretty dark skin Pretty like Lupita when the cameras close in Drip broke the levee when my Kellys roll in I think tonight she might braid her braids Melanin too dark to throw her shade She minds her business and whines her waist Gold like 24k, okay Tonight I might fall in love, dependin' on how you hold me I'm glad that I'm calmin' down, can't let no one come control me Keep dancin' and call it love, she fightin' but fallin' slowly If ever you are in doubt, remember what mama told me Brown skin girl, ya skin just like pearls Your back against the world I never trade you for anybody else, say Brown skin girl, ya skin just like pearls The best thing inna di (about the) world I never trade you for anybody else, say Oh, have you looked in the mirror lately? (Lately) Wish you could trade eyes with me ('cause) There's complexities in complexion But your skin, it glow like diamonds Dig me like the earth, you be giving birth Took everything in life, baby, know your worth I love everything about you, from your nappy curls To every single curve, your body natural Same skin that was broken be the same skin takin' over Most things out of focus, view But when you're in the room, they notice you (notice you) 'Cause you're beautiful Yeah, you're beautiful The men dem gon' fall in love With you and all of your glory Your skin is not only dark, it shines and it tells your story Keep dancin', they can't control you They watchin', they all adore you If ever you are in doubt, remember what mama told you Brown skin girl (brown skin girl), ya skin just like pearls (brown skin girl) Your back against the world (oh) I never trade you for anybody else, say (no, no) Brown skin girl (brown skin girl), ya skin just like pearls (brown skin) The best thing in all the world I never trade you for anybody else, say Brown skin girl Your skin just like pearls The best thing in the world I never trade you for anybody else, singin'

Sony is crowdfunding a wearable that could be an absolute game-changer for future heatwaves. The device, called Reon Pocket, is essentially a wearable air conditioning unit that blasts cold air down your neck. Sony explained: “Reduce the discomfort due to various temperatures such as hot summer outings, crowded train heat, cold winter outings, etc., and get comfortable in summer and winter.” Around the size of a credit card, the device sits in a special undershirt with a pocket at the base of your neck. The device connects to an accompanying app via Bluetooth, where users can set the temperature they’d like. According to Sony, during testing, the Reon Pocket was able to reduce users’ body temperature by 13°C, or increase it by 8.3°C. While this all might sound too good to be true, sadly as always, there’s a catch. At the moment, it appears that the device will only launch in Japan, so it’s bad news for us Brits. Prices range from 12,760 yen to 19,030 yen (£95 to £141). We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed they’re ready before next year's heatwave! Source

Nicole Chilaka-Ukpo, a German woman married to a Nigerian man, apologized to black women for the injustice done against them and for being made to feel like they were inferior to women of other races. She said women of other races try everything to look like black women, yet black women have been taught to dislike the way they are She wrote: dear black queeni know we have done you wrong, done you wrong so many times, on so many levels, abused and oppressed, then and now, in shackles then, in mental bondage now, we have done you wrong, we have failed you. failed to protect you, failed to honour you, failed to give you credit, failed to praise you for who you are. but instead we glorify every copy but you. we glorify big lips, curvy bodys, curly/kinky hair and your braiding arts, the way you talk and walk, we glorify all that on everybody else BUT YOU. but no more.we see you.your hair that defines gravity,your skin that absorbs the sunlight and glows from within, your features that often leave other women jealous running from the tanning bed to the next available plastic surgeon, to get just a tiny bit of what you are naturally blessed with. we see you, you carry the dna of humanity, you were the first woman to walk earth, and we all arose fromyou. you have been humilated for everything you are, but you will eventually be celebrated again, for everything you have become.dear black queen,no matter how light, no matter how dark your skin is, you are perfectly made. rise black queen, rise ?? and with you, the black nation will arise again ??#NoJusticeNoPeace Thoughts?

Nollywood actress, Nse Ikpe-Etim has revealed she won't be able to have a child for the rest of her life because she has no womb (uterus). While speaking at an event tagged “Conversation With Nse” in Lekki, the actress told her audience that three- years ago she was diagnosed with Adenomyosis, a condition whereby the inner lining of the uterus breaks through the muscle wall of the uterus. She said, “I was told I couldn’t have kids. And so, I had to have a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus) to make me have a life again and to stop going through what I was going through. And I’m literarily telling women and men, it really doesn’t matter if you can’t bear children. What really matters is what you would do for the world, for the universe.” Recounting when she was first told by the doctor that she would have to remove her uterus to live a normal life, she said, “Tears dropped and then my husband squeezed my hand. It was reassuring there was someone there and it was telling me that this is reality, my reality.” Speaking further, she revealed the ordeal made her fall into depression. “I didn’t think there was any point anymore because my society taught me that I have to be a mother to be appreciated and every time I went online, I would have one troll or two say ‘you never born? But I’m thankful that that didn’t break me. I’m thankful for Nollywood.” Source

A friend of mine said : "Most Nigerian girls are boring in bed, and they have no imagination. All they do is lay down or finger. They can't kiss, eat pussy, or fuck properly. They are allergic to foreplay, and sexual playfulness. Fucking with them is an exercise in patience." What are your thoughts?

The Commercial Executive Director, Tropical General Investment Group, Dr Onyekachi Onubogu, has called on Nigerians to reduce their salt intake, saying too much of salt could contribute to liver damage. Onubogu said this in Lagos during the inauguration of a new seasoning cube known as Terra Cube, adding that seasoning and salt must be consumed moderately to avoid kidney disease, as well as high blood pressure. “I do not think the rise in kidney diseases has anything to do with seasoning, but one of the things Nigerians told us during our research is that they want less salt in their food. We have made sure that the salt content present in the new seasoning is minimal compared to what we already have in the market. “It is not about flavouring your food; it is about bringing out the best in it, health-wise and quality wise,” he said. Source

An insight into the ordeals of an African generation constantly exposed to the trendy western liberal lifestyle in a socio-culturally undynamic society replete with homophobic and patriarchial discrimination . The two central characters, Charles and Amanda are millienials from diverse cultural backgrounds who face severe political, cultural and religious prejudices against their gender and sexual identity in a society where such discriminatory practices are supported by government laws and policies. Charles Oputa is the son of the disciplinarian and moralist. He is also the heir apparent to a multi-million dynasty. Right from childhood he was up against societal backlash against his perceived weird personality. Later in life, he has to take a decision between pursuing self identity or living up to his domineering father's puritan expectations. Belinda Ikeji, is an Afro-American daughter of a Nigerian immigrant whose claim to her late father's fortune is undermined by her paternal relatives' bias against her gender and sexuality. Their paths in life pitches them against morally corrupt hypocritical individuals whom the society celebrates. In a battle that may lead to death or imprisonment, do they back down or follow their hearts in the search for love and self identity. To get the book on Amazon, click here.

Novelist, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who has lived in Lagos on and off for a decade has written an essay for Esquire's new Travel & Adventure issue, in which she reflected on life in Nigeria's biggest city, Lagos. Read below: Lagos will not court you. It is a city that is what it is. I have lived part-time in Lagos for 10 years and I complain about it each time I return from my home in the US — its allergy to order, its stultifying traffic, its power cuts. I like, though, that nothing about Lagos was crafted for the tourist, nothing done to appeal to the visitor. Tourism has its uses, but it can mangle a city, especially a developing city, and flatten it into a permanent shape of service: the city’s default becomes a simpering bow, and its people turn the greyest parts of themselves into colourful props. In this sense, Lagos has a certain authenticity because it is indifferent to ingratiating itself; it will treat your love with an embrace, and your hate with a shrug. What you see in Lagos is what Lagos truly is. And what do you see? A city in a state of shifting impermanence. A place still becoming. In newer Lagos, houses sprout up on land reclaimed from the sea, and in older Lagos, buildings are knocked down so that ambitious new ones might live. A street last seen six months ago is different today, sometimes imperceptibly so — a tiny store has appeared at a corner — and sometimes baldly so, with a structure gone, or shuttered, or expanded. Shops come and go. Today, a boutique’s slender mannequin in a tightly pinned dress; tomorrow, a home accessories shop with gilt-edged furniture on display. Admiralty Road is cluttered, pulsing, optimistic. It is the business heart of Lekki, in the highbrow part of Lagos called The Island. Twenty years ago, Lekki was swampland and today the houses in its estates cost millions of dollars. It was supposed to be mostly residential but now it is undecided, as though partly trying to fend off the relentless encroachment of commerce, and partly revelling in its ever-growing restaurants, nightclubs and shops. I live in Lekki, but not in its most expensive centre, Phase 1. My house is farther away, close to the behemoth that is the oil company Chevron’s headquarters. A modest house, by Lekki standards. “It will be under water in 30 years,” a European acquaintance, a diplomat in Lagos, said sourly when I told him, years ago, that I was building a house there. He hated Lagos, and spoke of Lagosians with the resentment of a person who disliked the popular kids in the playground but still wanted to be their friend. I half-shared his apocalyptic vision; he was speaking to something unheeding in Lagos’s development. Something almost reckless. So forward-looking is Lagos, headlong, rushing, dissatisfied in its own frenzy, that in its haste it might very well sacrifice long-term planning or the possibility of permanence. Or the faith of its citizens. One wonders always: have things been done properly? Eko Atlantic City, the new ultra-expensive slice of land reclaimed from the Atlantic Ocean, has already been mostly sold to developers, and promises Dubai-like infrastructure, but my reaction remains one of scepticism. I cannot stop imagining the ocean one day re-taking its own. My house had required some arcane engineering, sand-filling, levelling, to prevent the possibility of sinking. And during the construction, my relatives stopped by often to check on things. If you’re building a house you must be present, otherwise the builders will slap-dash your tiling and roughen your finishing. This is a city in a rush and corners must be cut. "Nigeria is to Africa what the US is to the Americas: it dominates Africa’ s cultural imagination " Lagos has an estimated population of 23.5m — estimated because Nigeria has not had a proper census in decades. Population numbers determine how much resources states receive from the federal government, and census-taking is always contested and politicised. Lagos is expected to become, in the next 10 years, one of the world’s mega-cities, a term that conceals in its almost triumphant preface the chaos of overpopulation. Nigeria is Africa’s most populous country — one-in-five Africans is Nigerian — and Lagos is Nigeria’s commercial centre, its cultural centre, the aspirational axis where dreams will live or die. And so people come. From other parts of Nigeria, from other West African countries, from other African countries, they come. Skilled workers come from countries as far away as South Africa while less-skilled workers are more likely to come from the countries that share a border with Nigeria. My gate man, Abdul, who has worked with me for six years, is a striking young Muslim man from the Republic of Niger, Nigeria’s northern neighbour. In his small ancestral village, Lagos was seen as the city of shining lights. He longed to leave and find work in Lagos. To live in Lagos and return twice a year with the sparkle of Lagos on his skin. Nigeria is to Africa what the United States is to the Americas: it dominates Africa’s cultural imagination in a mix of admiration, resentment, affection and distrust. And the best of Nigeria’s contemporary culture — music, film, fashion, literature and art — is tied in some way to Lagos. If Lagos has a theme it is the hustle — the striving and trying. The working class does the impossible to scrape a living. The middle class has a side hustle. The banker sews clothes. The telecommunications analyst sells nappies. The school teacher organises private home lessons. Commerce rules. Enterprising people scrawl their advertisements on public walls, in chalk: “Call for affordable generator”. “I am buying condemned inverter”. “Need a washerman?” Perhaps this is why corporations are not viewed with the knowing suspicion so common in the West. “Branding” is a word entirely free of irony, and people use it to refer even to themselves. “I want to become a big brand,” young people brazenly say. Big companies adopt state schools and refurbish them, they organise deworming exercises in poor areas, they award prizes to journalists. Even the too-few green spaces in public areas are branded, a burst of beautiful shrubs and plants defaced with the logo of whatever bank or telecommunications company is paying for its upkeep. This is a city of blurred boundaries. Religion and commerce are intertwined. Lagos has a Muslim population but, like all of Southern Nigeria, it is a predominantly Christian city. Drive past a gleaming modern building and it might be a bank or a church. Huge signboards advertise church programmes with photos of nicely dressed pastors, and on Sundays the city is as close as it can get to being traffic-free, because Lagosians are at rest, back home from morning service. Pentecostal Christianity is fashionable, prayers are held before corporate board meetings, and “We thank God” is an appropriate response to a compliment, or even merely to the question, “How are you?” This Christianity is selectively conservative, it glances away from government corruption, preaches prosperity, casts ostentatious wealth as a blessing, and disapproves of socially progressive norms. Women are to submit to their husbands. Hierarchies matter. God wants you to be rich. But it also unites Lagosians; people who attend the same church become surrogate families, and together they attend large vigil services more exciting than music concerts, where urbane men and glamorous women sing praise-songs deep into the night and in the morning return to their well-paid jobs in the high rises of The Island. In Lagos, ethnicity both matters and doesn’t matter. Lagos is ancestral Yoruba land and Yoruba is spoken widely, but it is also Nigeria’s polyglot centre, and the dream-seekers who have come from all parts of the country communicate by Nigeria’s official language of English and unofficial lingua franca of Pidgin English. Some areas are known as ethnic — the Hausa sector where working-class Northern Muslims live, the areas with large markets run by people from my own southeastern Igbo ethnic group — but none of them are affluent. With wealth, overt appeals to ethnicity retreat. One of the ubiquitous yellow ’danfo’ buses that cruise the clogged city Always Ready, Monochrome Lagos / Logo Oluwamuyiwa My cousin lives in a lower middle class area, heavily populated by Igbo traders. Once, on my way to visit her, the car stuck in traffic, a hawker pressing his packs of chewing gum against my window. Gabriel my driver of 10 years said to me, “Ma, your bag.” A simple reminder. I swiftly moved my handbag from the back seat to the floor, pushed it under my seat. My cousin was robbed in traffic on her way home from work, a gun to her head, her bag and phone taken, and beside her people kept slow-driving, face-forward. And now she has a fake bag and a fake phone that she leaves on display in her front seat whenever she drives home, because robbers target women driving alone, and if she has nothing to give them they might shoot her. My brother-in-law was also robbed not far from here. He was in traffic on a bright afternoon, his windows down, and someone shouted from the outside, something about his car, and he looked out of the window and back to the road and in that brief sliver of time a hand slid through the other window and his phone was gone. He told the story, later, with a tinge of admiring defeat. "To live in Lagos is to live on distrust. You assume you will be cheated" He, a real Lagosian who had lived in Lagos for 40 years and knew its wiles and its corners, and yet they had managed to fool him. He had fallen for the seamless ingenuity of Lagos’s thieves. To live in Lagos is to live on distrust. You assume you will be cheated, and what matters is that you avert it, that you will not be taken in by it. Lagosians will speak of this with something close to pride, as though their survival is a testament to their fortitude, because Lagos is Lagos. It does not have the tame amiability of Accra. It is not like Nairobi where flowers are sold in traffic. In other parts of Lagos, especially the wealthy areas on The Island, I wouldn’t hide my handbag in traffic, because I would assume myself to be safe. Here, security is status. Lagos is a city of estates; groups of houses, each individually walled off, are enclosed in yet another walled fence, with a central gate and a level of security proportional to the residents’ privilege. The estates not blessed with wealth lock their gates before midnight, to keep out armed robbers. Nightclub-goers living there know not to return home until 5am when the gates are opened. Expensive estates have elaborate set-ups at their entrances: you park your car and wait for the security guards to call whomever you’re visiting, or you are given a visitor’s card as identification, or you are asked to open your boot, or a jaunty guard walks around your car with a mirror lest you have a bomb strapped underneath. In a city like Mumbai, which is as complicated as Lagos, it is easy to understand why the expensive parts are expensive just by driving through them, but in Lagos one might be confused. Mansions sit Buddha-like behind high gates but the streets still have potholes, and are still half-sunken in puddles during the rainy season and still have the ramshackle kiosk in a corner where drivers buy their lunch. High-end estates still have about them an air of the unfinished. Next to a perfectly landscaped compound with ornate gates might sit an empty lot, astonishingly expensive, and overgrown with weeds and grass. live in Lekki and dream of Old Ikoyi. British colonial government officers lived in Old Ikoyi starting in the Twenties, a time of mild apartheid when Africans could not live there and could not go to the “white” hospital, and could not apply for high-profile jobs. Today, Old Ikoyi has about it that stubborn, undeniable beauty that is the troubled legacy of injustice. With its leafy grounds, and trees leaning across the streets, it reminds me a little of my childhood in the small university town of Nsukka, an eight-hour drive from Lagos: quiet, restful, frangipani trees dotting the compound, purple bougainvillea climbing the walls. And so I find myself wishing I lived in Old Ikoyi and mourning its slow disappearance. Gracious columned houses are being knocked down for tall apartment buildings and large homes with unintentionally baroque facades. “Beware of Lagos”, I heard often while growing up on the other side of Nigeria. Lagos was said to be a city of shallowness and phony people. There were many shimmering, mythical examples of this, stories repeated in various permutations, with the characters from different ethnic groups, and small details changed: the suave man who drives a Range Rover but is penniless and lives on the couches of friends; the beautiful woman who parades herself as an accomplished business person but is really a con artist. And who would blame them, those self-reinventors so firmly invested in their own burnished surfaces? "You can talk your way into almost any space in Lagos if you look the part and drive the right car" Here, appearance matters. You can talk your way into almost any space in Lagos if you look the part and drive the right car. In many estates, the guards fling open the gates when the latest model of a particular brand of car drives up, the questions they have been trained to ask promptly forgotten. But approach in an old Toyota and they will unleash their petty power. Snobbery here is unsubtle. Western designer logos are so common among elite Lagosians that style journalists write of Gucci and Chanel as though they were easily affordable by a majority of the people. Still, style is democratic. Young working-class women are the most original: they shop in open markets, a mass of secondhand clothes spread on the ground under umbrellas, and they emerge in the perfect pair of skinny jeans, the right flattering dresses. Young working-class men are not left behind, in their long-sleeved tucked-in shirts, their crisp traditional matching tunics and trousers. And so Lagos intimidates with its materialism, its insolence, its beautiful people. A young woman told me that when she was considering entering the Miss Nigeria beauty pageant she decided not to try out in Lagos, even though she lived there. “Too many fine babes in Lagos,” she said. And so she went to Enugu, her ancestral hometown, where she believed her chances were better. Young people complain of the dating scene. Nobody is honest, they say. Men and women perform. Everyone is looking for what is shinier and better. “Why do you choose to live in Lagos, then?” I once asked a young woman. Every time I ask this of a young person dissatisfied with Lagos, they invariably look puzzled to be asked, as though they assumed it to be obvious they would never consider leaving. Everybody complains about Lagos but nobody wants to leave. And why do I live here? Why didn’t I build my house in Enugu, for example, a slow, clean, appealing city in the southeast, close to where I grew up? "Lagos has a dynamism. An absence of pallor . You can feel it in the uncomfortable humid air" It is clichéd to speak of the “energy” of Lagos, and it can sometimes sound like a defensive retort in the face of the city’s many infrastructural challenges. But Lagos does have a quality for which “energy” is the most honest description. A dynamism. An absence of pallor. You can feel it in the uncomfortable humid air — the talent, the ingenuity, the bursting multi-ness of everything, the self-confidence of a city that knows it matters. The only real functioning Nigerian port is in Lagos, and business people from all over the country have no choice but to import their goods through there. Nigerian business is headquartered in Lagos; not only the banks, and the telecommunications and oil and advertising companies, but also the emerging creative industries. Art galleries have frequent exhibitions of Nigeria’s best artists. Fashion Week is here. The concerts are the biggest and noisiest. Nollywood stars might not shoot their films in Lagos — it’s too expensive — but they premiere them in Lagos. The production of culture works in service to Lagos’s unassailable cool. There are some things of conventional touristic appeal. The last gasp of Brazilian architecture in the oldest parts of Lagos, houses built by formerly enslaved Africans who, starting in the 1830s, returned from Brazil and settled in Lagos. The Lekki market, where beautiful sculptures and ornaments blend with kitsch, and where the sellers speak that brand of English reserved for foreigners. The National Museum with its carefully tended flowers outside the building and inside an air of exquisite abandon. The Lekki Conservation Centre, a small nature reserve, with bounteous greenery and some small animals. The first time I visited, with a friend, I asked the ticketing person what we might hope to see. “No lions or elephants,” she said archly. The highlights are the gorgeous birds, and the monkeys, and the sheer surprise of an oasis of nature in the middle of Lagos’s bustle. The nearby beaches are dirty and overcrowded but the beaches one reaches by taking a speedboat across the waters are clean, dotted with beach houses, and flanked by palms. The restaurants in Lagos are owned by a Lebanese “mafia”, a friend once told me, only half-joking. Nigeria has a significant Lebanese presence. They very rarely inter-marry with Nigerians, and I sense in some Lebanese employers a unique scorn for their Nigerian staff, but their roots in Nigeria are firm. They are Lebanese-Nigerians. And they own many restaurants, and their mark is obvious in the ubiquity of the shawarma. Young people go out for a shawarma. Kids ask for shawarmas as treats. There are, of course, Nigerian-owned restaurants. The chains with basic, not untasty food, the mid-level restaurants that dispense with frills and serve the jollof rice one might have cooked at home, and the high-end restaurants that labour under the weight of their own pretensions. There are quirky shops that cater mostly to a new Lagos tribe, the returnees: young people who have returned from schooling in the US or Europe with new ideas, and might for example suggest that a thing being “handmade” were remarkable, as though hand-making things were not the Nigerian norm. They represent a new globalised Nigerian, situated in Nigeria, au fait about the world. It is the breathing human architecture of Lagos that thrills me most. For a novelist, no city is better for observing human beings. On Sundays, when the roads are not clogged up, I like to be driven around Lagos, headed nowhere, watching the city. Past bus stops full of people with earphones stuck in their ears. A roadside market with colourful bras swinging from a balcony, wheelbarrows filled with carrots, a table laid out with wigs. Fat, glorious watermelons piled high. Hawkers selling onions, eggs, bread. In gutters clogged with sludgy, green water and cans and plastic bags, I imagine the possibility of a clean city. Lagos is full of notices. “This house is not for sale” is the most common, scrawled on walls, a warning to those who might be duped by real estate shysters. Near a mosque, where a fashionable young woman in jeans and a headscarf walks past, is this in green letters: “Chief Imam of Lagos Says No Parking Here”. From a bridge, I look across at shirtless men fishing on flimsy canoes. The secondhand books spread on low tables have curled covers, copies of Mastering Mathematics beside How to Win Friends and Influence People. On these drives, I think of how quickly fights and friendships are formed in Lagos. A yellow danfo bus has hit another and both conductors have leapt out for a swift fight. People make friends while queuing — at banks, airports, bus stops — and they unite over obvious jokes and shared complaints. At night, there are swathes of Lagos that are a gloomy grey from power cuts, lit only by a few generator-borne lights, and there are areas that are bright and glittering. And in both one sees the promise of this city: that you will find your kin, where you fit, that there is a space somewhere in Lagos for you. Source

Huh? Anyone ever experienced this?

Get in here GOT fans. What are you looking forward to this season? Sucks that the show is ending!

The founder of Jesus Intervention Household Ministry, Ejigbo, Lagos, Chizemdere Ezuma has been arrested for allegedly sodomising, prostituting and infecting underage boys with HIV virus. According to The Nation, he was arrested at his residence after an informant notified the police he had resurfaced, three months after he was declared wanted. It was gathered that the suspect climbed his ceiling where he hid for over two hours to evade arrest when detectives stormed his home few days ago. The suspect was declared wanted after an alleged male prostitute, Prince Chinecherem, was arrested and charged to court after a 16-year-old victim, Anthony Ikem, made revelations that implicated them. Ikem, who was found sneaking out of the suspect’s home with a polythene bag containing used condoms and other items, was accosted by neighbours and he confessed he was one of several sex partners of the pastor. Ikem also confirmed that the Ezuma usually gave them to service some of his male clients including VIPs. The teenager was taken to the hospital for checks and it was discovered he was HIV+. It was gathered that some residents of the community were worried he was corrupting their male children and initiating them into the club, hence, their keen interest to see that he was arrested and prosecuted. Findings revealed that Ezuma was moved to the Gender Section at the Police Command Ikeja, yesterday afternoon, following pressure from certain quarters in the division to release him. In his confessional statement to the police, Ezuma claimed he usually paid the boys N2,000 for sex. Investigation showed that he brought about 15 boys into his apartment where he forcefully penetrated them all through the anus. “The reverend confirmed he is HIV+ and has been receiving treatment for over three years. So, he knew he was HIV positive and still infected his victims and clients with it,” said a source. Source

What is your favourite podcast?

People in polyamorous relationships may or may not be married, although people who identify as polyamorous tend to be rejecting of the restrictions of the social convention of marriage, and particularly, the limitation to one partner. Polyamory is not the same as an "open" relationship, which involves a committed couple agreeing that one or both partners are permitted to have sex with other people, without necessarily sharing information on the other partners, although polyamorous couples may also have open relationships. ~ Culled from google I was having a discussion with my friend the other day on the rise of polyamorous relationships in the queer community. What is your take on this? Will you give polyamory a go?

Hunter’s Pursuit, by Kim Baldwin \ I think Kim Baldwin specializes in using the cold to bring lovers together in peril. This one is so exciting: Kat is a mercenary contemplating retirement in her hillside hideaway when a super babe with memory problems and assassins on her tail shows up at her door. Kat has to decide what to do about this woman, who may or may not be deadly, and what to do when she starts falling for this woman, which may or may not be sexy (it is, it’s very sexy). It’s one of those “oh no we are stuck in close quarters together, whatever shall we do” situations that only gets hotter with the threat of death or dismemberment lurking outside. Source

If this was your Thanksgiving table, what would you do?

Olga Diyachenko, the Russian partner of Super Eagles captain, John Mikel Obi, who is currently in Nigeria with her family took to Instagram to write about Nigerian women. In the candid post, Olga praised Nigerian women for having so much grace, charisma and not a shred of insecurity. Read her post below. Nigeria, what a surprise you've turned out be. ?? But, if I’m to say what impressed me most, it’s The Women. So much; grace, charisma and not a shred of insecurity. Nigerian women walk swaying their beautiful hips with their backs impeccably straight, heads held high, knowing their worth. Their attitude is strong, yet very sensual, regardless whether it’s a wealthy woman walking through a 5 star hotel or a young girl crossing the road at 7 AM rushing to work. Although may I say, Nigerian women do not rush, nor do they fidget, they simply glide. The way Nigerian women preserve their culture and traditions is admirable. They don’t chase international designers or dress according to Vogue, they wear beautiful traditional dresses, dance the traditional dances and do it all with pride! I hope Ava and Mia will inherit the calmness, sense of pride, posture and self worth that I’ve witnessed Nigerian women posses with such ease. Nigerian Women hat off to you. Source

''When it comes to marriages and what a man or woman do, I don't really bother because it is their decision and they are adults and you must take the consequences that come out of it but when you involve your kids in it is where it gets me because these kids did not ask to be born neither did they ask for you to make some stupid decisions in your life. I am sick and tired of all these post people put up of somebody gets beaten up, gets stabbed. You get beaten up, you get killed because you want to. Don't involve your kids in it. When you make stupid decisions that you want to get married because the whole nation is crazy about getting married, don't get your kids involved in it. Please my sisters, if you want to get married, think about it thoroughly. Don't think about just the wedding itself. It's a marriage, a life time decision. It is not just about Asoebi, caterers, slaying or having the best wedding. Please women, if you are not ready for children, do not have them. I don't know why the society is so pressured about people getting married and having children when half of the people that have children are not supposed to. Honeslty, not every woman is supposed to have children and not everyone is supposed to be married. Not every woman who has kids is supposed to be called a mother''. Thoughts?

A pastor in Chicago has come under fire to telling a person in drag to leave the church during a service. Antonio Rocquemore, of Power House International Ministries, can be seen telling the individual to “put on man clothes” in a video shared to Facebook. “Can you leave my church and go put on man clothes? And don’t come here like that no more,” he says in the video. “I hold a standard in here. Whatever you do on the outside is your business, but I will not let drag queens come in here.” The audience can be heard saying “Amen” and “Jesus” and applauding the pastor. Rocquemore says in the video: “I don’t do no bashing, because everybody is struggling with something. The video has been shared thousands of times, with many criticising the pastor’s actions. Afterwards, Rocquemore shared another video to his personal Facebook page, in which he appeared unapologetic. He said the person at the service had been a member of the church for several months. The pastor said: “First of all, anybody that know me … I don’t bash nothing. “The reason why I don’t bash nothing because when you start bashing things then you’re separating them. I don’t separate sin. Sin is sin.” Source

Waconzy who was born in Port Harcourt, gained some popularity with his song “I celebrate” in 2010 and since then, has struggled to make a comeback even after releasing subsequent songs. The musician, whose music career is obviously over, took to Instagram to display his ignorance and homophobia. He posted “Gays & lesbians are bad children wey no gree change. They have nothing to offer to this world but HIV”. Given Nigeria’s increasing homophobia toward homosexuals due to ignorance on the issue, the statement above is capable of further encouraging discrimination and stigma which harms efforts to prevent HIV and care for LGBTQ+ persons living with the virus. Waconzy needs to learn that anyone regardless of their sexual orientation can contract HIV, the virus which causes AIDS and if he really understands the sort of harm that his post can cause to innocent lives, then he won’t wait for too long before taking it down with an apology. Source

Thoughts?

Sometimes lesbians want to find a wife with whom to run a small sheep farm in Wales; sometimes what we want is a hard wet fuck from a beautiful woman we barely know in the bathroom of a gay bar. We contain multitudes. But how do you make the latter happen? I bring to you cruising tips and casual sex advice built off the years of skanky queer life experience that have solidified me as one of the leading minds in the highly un-scientific field of “Lez Slut-ology.” The Basics What’s cruising? Cruising is going out into the world with the specific intention of finding someone with whom to have casual sex. If you message or approach someone just wanting to hook up, you are cruising. It’s a time-honored gay tradition and a rich part of our cultural history that forgoes respectability politics and homonormative assimilation in favor of radical expressions of queer sexuality. Cruising is knowing what you want and actively pursuing it. The term is thought to have come from queer folks walking or driving around town searching for a casual encounter. Though cruising has gained prominence as practiced by men who have sex with men, it isn’t theirs alone; dyke communities have also engaged in cruising and casual sex for years. Where do you cruise? I would recommend any events or settings where you know lady-loving lady hotties abound as a great place to cruise. This includes: + Dyke nights at your local gay bar + Pride + Dance parties + Brunch + A-Camp + A Hayley Kiyoko/Tegan & Sara/Mirah/Melissa Etheridge concert + BDSM play parties + A gay picnic + A book fair + NaijaLez So my golden rule is: “If there’s a hot gay around and you aren’t at like, a trauma center or a funeral, you can cruise there.” An elegant golden rule, I know. How do you cruise? Feel good about it! We live in a society that indoctrinates us into believing that having desires is predatory and shameful, and that women who desire women are even more so. I think another big part of it is that many of us have experienced predatory behavior and are very scared to replicate it. It’s not predatory to want someone and let them know it. It’s not predatory to desire another woman in a purely sexual manner. It’s only predatory if you are being disrespectful of someone’s boundaries, body, and personhood. So don’t do that. As for fears about being desirable or confident enough, remember that queer desire is complex and multifaceted and lots of types of people are attracted to lots of types of people and bodies; why not you! I suggest wearing something you feel really confident and hot in, that outfit that just makes you feel like the baddest bitch. And when all else fails, fake the confidence because we honestly all do that. Flirting Flirting is the first step of cruising and something I know many queers struggle with. I know many queer folx, especially women, feel frozen by this deep fear of rejection and getting over that is the first step to being a more confident cruiser. Being rejected doesn’t say anything bad about you or them and it doesn’t invalidate your gayness. I fear rejection too, but learning to accept it as a likely possibility has helped me become my best flirt and built my confidence in other aspects of my life. What is important is to not be objectifying in how you interact with them. If they aren’t into it, respect the no, move on, and don’t make it weird. If you’re approached by someone you aren’t into, try to handle it the way you would want to be rejected, say thank you and politely decline. My favorite ways to flirt with or be flirted with by women are to be complimented — find something you think is beautiful, stylish, or attractive about this person and let them know — and then having them get down to it — ask for what you’re interested in, whether it’s a number, a date, or getting fucked in the bathroom. Having Casual Sex How do you actually initiate casual sex? In practice: you’re out and about and have spotted a hottie, and have been flirting by complimenting them and chatting. Maybe this doesn’t go well; either they aren’t into it or upon closer interaction you aren’t as into them as you thought you were. That’s fine; chalk it up to the mysteries of life and move on. If they do seem equally interested in you, you can take the initiative! If it’s a setting like a bar, party or social gathering where you could feasibly say “Do you want to go to my place/the bathroom/my car/anywhere else we can have sex?” you can ask that! If you’re in the middle of a protest or drag queen story hour for kids at 10 am at the public library, maybe you want to ask for their number so you can make a similar suggestion at a more appropriate time — like getting someone’s info to ask them on a date, but focusing more on asking them “I think you’re really hot, do you want to come over Saturday night?” If you are trying to get fisted in your car in the parking lot of the bar — congrats! — maybe wear something you can slip in and out of easily. Once you get to actually having sex, you of course are aware it’s good to communicate basic stuff about boundaries and consent, even if it is casual. There’s no set list of things to discuss before sleeping with a stranger, but if it’s something like a medical condition, a boundary, or testing status, then definitely bring it up. Examples: “Hey just so you know, I have a latex allergy, so finger me with nitrile gloves.” “Please make sure you don’t touch my neck. It’s a trigger for me.” “How recently have you been tested?” “My partner and I have a rule about getting no marks from hookups.” “I don’t like gentle sex.” “I have been tested recently and my results came back positive for gonorrhea.” Source

Sparks fly on Halloween night as Nat faces her demons.