The Northrop B-2 Spirit, also known as the Stealth Bomber, is an American heavy strategic bomber, featuring low-observable stealth technology designed to penetrate dense anti-aircraft defenses. A subsonic flying wing with a crew of two, the plane was designed by Northrop (later Northrop Grumman) as the prime contractor, with Boeing, Hughes, and Vought as principal subcontractors, and was produced from 1988 to 2000. The bomber can drop conventional and thermonuclear weapons, such as up to eighty 500-pound class (230 kg) Mk 82 JDAM GPS-guided bombs, or sixteen 2,400-pound (1,100 kg) B83 nuclear bombs. The B-2 is the only acknowledged in-service aircraft that can carry large air-to-surface standoff weapons in a stealth configuration.

The Ceasefire Between Israel And Iran Has Just Gone Into Effect.

It’s hard to swallow after the events of this morning but we must not forget what was accomplished in this military operation and we also must not forget Trump's support in the peace negotiations.

He asked that both side don’t violate the ceasefire and despite how difficult it is, he has earned the right to make that request and for both parties to honor it.

Here is why.

Israel/Iran Results In 12 Days Of War:

Eliminated the entire chain of command of Iranian regime and multiple key nuclear scientists.

Eliminated Iranian air defense systems across the entire country

Severely damaged Iranian ballistic missiles program

Severely damaged Iranian nuclear program

Establish itself as the most dominant military force in the region

Move focus away from the Gaza situation to a war it easily won against a much bigger opponent

Brought back the Saudi Abraham accords deal

Exhibited the strength of US Israel partnership to everyone in its neighbourhood.

Iran: “Succeeded in killing 30 civilians” and destroyed a cancer research center and damaged a refinery.

Iran successfully rained missiles on structures damaging buildings in Tel-aviv , Including Airport And Hospital .

Nothing wey Musa no go see for gate ...fear who no fear this gender . wetin be this? Abu Osman Kamara

IS NIGERIA WORTH DIEING FOR ?

She Kept Sending Voice Notes… But He Was Already Gone.

Esther Uduak, just 24, married her best friend, lance corporal Bassey, 2 years after his passing-out parade from Nigerian army Depot zaria. Their love was young, loud, and full of promise. They texted like teenagers. Called each other “babe” every ten minutes. He made her laugh even from the war front.

When Bassey was deployed to Gwoza, Borno State, Esther made a simple vow:

“No matter how far you go, I’ll talk to you every Friday night.”

So she did. Through voice notes. Every week.

“Baby, Iniobong now has two teeth. She looks so much like you when she smiles.”

“I made your afang soup today and just cried. It doesn’t taste the same without you here.”

“The bed feels colder. Even the baby keeps turning, as if looking for you in her sleep.”

But what Esther didn’t know was this: Bassey had already died in combat.
An ambush.
A silent night.
No chance to say goodbye.

The military needed time for confirmation. So, for weeks, no one told her.

But she kept sending the voice notes. Eleven of them in total.

Sometimes pleading.
Sometimes angry.
Sometimes whispering his name like a prayer.

“You dey vex for me? At least just reply. Or call me with another phone na. I’m tired, Bassey. Just say something... anything.”

The ticks never turned blue. But she hoped. She believed. After all, soldiers don’t die like that, right?

Then on a quiet Sunday morning at 6:43 AM, two soldiers knocked, They said...
“Madam… lance corporal Bassey fell in the line of duty on February 17th. He was a brave man. We’re truly sorry.”

Esther dropped to her knees, screaming so loud the baby woke up crying too.

She played all 11 voice notes that night
Alone.

To a phone that would never ring back.

Her last one was never even sent:

“Iniobong called you ‘Daddy’ today. I cried. Not because I’m happy… but because I don’t know how to tell her that you’re not coming home.”

Now, every Friday, she still records a voice note.

But now… she doesn’t send them.
She plays them to his photo on the wall, next to the flag, next to his boots, still muddy from his last patrol.

“Rest well, Bassey. You are my hero. Our daughter will never forget your name.”

Iran Destroy American Fighter Jet B-2 Spirit Bumber Bunker busters

Nnamdi Kanu's court case is concluded but as we are patiently awaiting the judicial verdict and not a political supremacist advantage, it is important that we remind you that the IPOB leader is still languishing in DSS custody for no just cause.

Fulani terrorists are roaming about k!lling innocent citizens in Nigeria and none of them is standing trial in any Nigerian court today. But Nnamdi Kanu, an innocent man who saw the doom while it was still pending and revealed it to his people for caution was arrested, attempted to be mỤ®dered but luckily escaped before he was abducted in Kenya and currently facing trial in the country. This is to say that terrorists have the will power to roam about in Nigeria and kill Nigerians but a potential savior of Nigerians has no authority to save the people.
Enugu State is bleeding while Benue State is soaked in the blood of it's own people buried in the ashes. These are the things Nnamdi Kanu warned but no one cared to listen.
May the law take it's cause in Nnamdi Kanu's case and deal with everyone involved in his unlawful detention and trial.

THE DAY A STUDENT HELD MY SHIRT AND DARED ME TO SL.AP HIM…

It happened in one of the “top schools” I once worked in.
A school with beautiful buildings.
A school that had zero respect for teachers.

Here, students were gods.
Teachers were servants.
The rule?
No fl0gging. No discipline. No puni$hment.
Just smile and teach—even if you’re disrespected.

From the first day I resumed, I had already heard the stories.
Stories of how students in$ulted teachers.
Stories of teachers being humiliated, m0cked, and even reported to the school owners for simply trying to do their jobs.

So I knew I had to draw the line.
I told them clearly:

“In my class, there is no room for noise, indiscipline, or disrespect.”

And somehow, most of them loved and respected me.
We built a bond… until that day in SS1.

I was teaching modular arithmetic when a new student entered the class.
He didn’t greet.
He didn’t sit.
He just stood there, bouncing a small red tennis ball, disrupting the lesson.

I told him calmly,

“Young man, stop that.”

He looked me in the face and said:

“No. I’m enjoying it.”

I walked up to him, took the ball.
Suddenly, he rushed at me, grabbed my shirt and shouted:

“Give me my tennis ball!”

I tried to keep calm.
I said,

“After class, I’ll give it back. Go and sit.”

But he stood his ground. Still holding me.
Still shouting.

I looked into his eyes.
This boy… a student… was challenging me in front of the entire class.
I was boiling.
I said with a raised voice:

“Leave me now. Or I’ll give you a $laap you’ll never forget.”

He looked at me, eyes wild, and screamed:

“$lap me! You will go! I will report you to the principal! You will be $acked!”

Something in me snapped.

I gave him a s$ap.
Then another.
Then one more.
He br0ke down in tea.r$.

He ran out of the class—headed straight to the principal’s office.
But two students ran after him… they held him.
They begged him.

And I heard a voice from the back of the class say:

“Please, don’t report Mr. Esomnofu. He’s a good man.”

I stood there… not knowing whether to cr¥ or just pack my things and leave.
I thought of my certificate. My hard work. My dreams.
And how they all almost ended in that moment—because I chose to correct a child.

This is what some schools have turned teachers into.
Powerless.
Defenseless.
Expendable.

In this country, some schools don’t want teachers.
They want robots.
They want $laves in shirts and ties.
They want babysitters with degrees.

For how long will this continue?

To every teacher who’s ever been insulted by a child…
To every teacher who’s been silenced by a system that protects students more than educators…
To every teacher who has walked out of a school gate in tears—questioning their worth…

You are not alone.

If this touched you…
If you believe this madn.e$$ must stop…
Please, share this.

As a visitor will you sit on this couch