By Oyekunle Olalekan

That fragile moment when the body relaxes before the journey ends. When the mind moves ahead of the plane, stepping already into tomorrow. Below them, the land unfolded – wet, familiar, waiting. Port Harcourt breathed under the rain, unaware of how many stories were descending toward it.

They were aboard Sosoliso Airline Flight 1145, traveling from Abuja, descending toward Port Harcourt.
A routine journey. A trusted path.

Among them were students. Young voices carrying laughter from Abuja back to the places that shaped them. Schoolbags tucked beneath seats, futures folded carefully inside. The cabin filled with normal sounds. Seatbelts fastened. A familiar announcement.

But they were not alone.

There were parents too, travelling with quiet endurance. Strangers bound together briefly by chance and shared air. Lives intersecting for only a few hours, never knowing how closely their fates had aligned. Each seat held a history. Each name carried someone else’s heart.

The cabin was filled with normalcy. Seatbelts clicked. The familiar announcement was made. Almost there. No one prepares for loss while preparing to land.

Rain followed them in silence. It fell steadily, blurring sky and earth, erasing certainty. The city below dimmed, and in that narrowing space between cloud and ground, time faltered. What happened next came without permission, without mercy.

And then… impact.
And then… absence.

What remained was not only twisted metal, but waiting. Phones that rang into nothing. Families pacing airport floors long after arrival time had passed. Names repeated until they lost their shape.

They were students.
They were parents.
They were individuals whose lives did not deserve to end as headlines.

Twenty years have passed. Twenty years of birthdays uncelebrated. Of classrooms that never felt quite full again. Of parents who learned how to live with a silence that does not heal. Time moved forward, as it always does, but grief did not dissolve; it only changed shape.

A nation mourned not just what was lost, but what was unfinished, the futures that never unfolded, the questions that lingered about responsibility, about safety, about whether this loss could have been prevented.

Grief does not discriminate. It visits the young and the old alike. It settles into uniforms never worn again, into meals cooked for those who will never return.

They were almost home. That is what makes the loss unbearable. Not the distance, but the nearness. Not the journey, but the promise of arrival.

This is more than the story of a crash that happened twenty years ago. It is a reminder that every passenger matters, that safety is a responsibility, not a suggestion, that memory must outlive negligence.

They were almost home.

And now, two decades later, they live in remembrance.

RIP to the 107 lives lost that day.
Gone from sight, but never from memory.

By Foluso Ojo Sylvanus

When Donald Trump sneezes, the political world catches a cold. Love him or loathe him, one thing you can’t deny is his brutal honesty or, to put it more bluntly, his lack of diplomatic restraint. And that, precisely, is what makes his recent action toward Nigeria all the more revealing.

For years, detractors have tried to stain the image of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu with every imaginable accusation from certificate forgery to phantom drug links in the United States. The propaganda was relentless, and many began to wonder if there might be a grain of truth somewhere in the noise. But Trump’s recent behavior has made something crystal clear to me: those allegations are nothing but lies from the pit of hell.

Let’s think about it. As a president of the United States, Trump has access to some of the most classified information in the world. If there were any credible evidence tying Tinubu to those allegations, Trump would know. And knowing his fiery, unfiltered style, he would have wasted no time spilling it to the world especially now that he seems desperate for opportunities to discredit Nigeria and ridicule Tinubu’s government.

But he hasn’t. Not a word. Not a whisper.

That silence speaks louder than a thousand tweets. It tells me that there’s simply nothing there no hidden file, no scandal, no secret waiting to explode. Because if there were, Trump would have been the first to weaponize it.

This is the same Trump who has insulted world leaders without blinking, who has mocked allies and enemies alike, who once called entire nations “shitholes.” Are we to believe that such a man would quietly hold on to damning information about Nigeria’s president out of respect or restraint? Certainly not.

His silence, therefore, becomes an unintended testimony a silent vindication of Tinubu’s integrity.

What this moment reveals is deeper than politics. It exposes how easily falsehood can masquerade as fact in our social media-driven age. For too long, we’ve allowed political opponents to define the narratives that shape our national image abroad. But now, even the world’s most outspoken leader has unintentionally confirmed what many of us have always believed: Tinubu’s story is not one of scandal but of survival, strategy, and statesmanship.

In a strange twist of irony, Donald Trump a man not exactly known for diplomacy may have just done more to clear President Tinubu’s name than all the press conferences in Abuja combined.

By Huldah Shado

Mould is a type of fungus found naturally both indoors and outdoors. While it plays a vital role in breaking down organic matter in nature, its presence in homes and workplaces can cause serious health and structural problems.

Mould spreads through microscopic spores that thrive in warm, damp environments, forming colonies on walls, ceilings, fabrics, and furniture.

Moisture is the leading cause of mould growth. Leaking roofs, broken pipes, flooding, or poor ventilation create ideal conditions for it to thrive.

Materials like paper, wood, and textiles easily absorb moisture, becoming breeding grounds for mould.

In humid regions like Nigeria, the risk is higher, particularly in buildings with poor ventilation or drainage.

Prolonged exposure to mould can trigger coughing, sneezing, eye irritation, and skin rashes. For people with asthma, allergies, or weak immune systems, the effects can be severe, leading to respiratory complications.

Some moulds even produce toxic mycotoxins, which can cause chronic illness if inhaled or ingested over time.

Beyond health concerns, mould weakens surfaces, causes discolouration, peeling paint, and unpleasant odours, and can lead to costly structural damage if ignored.

Early detection and prompt action are essential. Prevention remains the best defense.

Fix leaks quickly, dry wet areas, and ensure proper ventilation, especially in kitchens and bathrooms. Regular cleaning and inspection of hidden areas can also help.

Ultimately, controlling moisture is key. A clean, dry, and well-ventilated home is not only healthier, it safeguards comfort, property, and peace of mind.