BashorunsBlog

The secret of any examination success is hidden in its past questions. You can’t afford to go for any examinations without practicing with their past questions.

MyPastQuestion.com is the #1 examination preparation web platform for students worldwide that are preparing for one exam or the other. It has in stock, all the past questions and answers of the major exams in Sub Saharan Africa, such as JAMB-UTME, WAEC, NECO, NABTEB, London GCE, TOEFL, GRE, SAT, GMAT, ICAN etc. You can also access free Post UTME, Postgraduate past questions and answers, and relevant hints to passing examinations, Exams Time table, Exams fees, Exams Schedule as well as Scholarships.

Are you still wondering why you need to study past questions and answers for examination success?

Like the old saying goes ‘practice makes perfect’

Practicing past questions is a lot more than just reading through the notes you made in class. It simply involves the recognition of the pattern the questions will come and the right approach to answering them.

8 Reasons You Should Visit MyPastQuestion.com: Number 6 Will Surprise You!

1. MyPastQuestion.com makes you know what the examiner demands from you.

2. MyPastQuestion.com helps you test if you are really ready for the examination.

3. Studying along with MyPastQuestion.com makes you know your area of weakness in each subject and how to tackle it.

4. MyPastQuestion.com helps you to manage time properly.

5. Use of MyPastQuestion.com boosts your confidence.

6. MyPastQuestion.com helps you to remember everything in the exam hall since you have solved similar problems.

7. MyPastQuestion.com is trustworthy and affordable.

8. MyPastQuestion.com will make you know what to expect in the examination

Finally, most questions for different sets are repeated questions but they always twist it to confuse you. Most of these organizations that set these questions are simply good at modification of past questions to make you confused.

So what are you waiting for? Go to MyPastQuestion.com and get started

Here are some examples of the benefits you stand to accrue from the website

For scholarship past questions go to https://mypastquestion.com/scholarship-past-questions-and-answers/

For jamb cbt software, go to https://mypastquestion.com/cbt-software/

For post utme past questions go to http://mypastquestion.com/post-utme-past-questions/

For jamb past question, go to http://mypastquestion.com/jamb-past-question-and-answers/

For waec past questions, go to http://mypastquestion.com/waec-past-questions-and-answers-all-subjects-pdf/

This review of MyPastQuestion.com covers everything you will need to know about past questions for JAMB-UTME, WAEC, NECO, NABTEB, London GCE, TOEFL, GRE, SAT, GMAT, ICAN for JSS, SSS students, Jambites, Prospective Postgraduate and so on.

In recent times there has been a real life hero that pulled stunts out of the magic Marvel comics that we have all come to love and that hero comes from the most unlikely place; Africa.

Yes. Mamoudou Gassama is the hero's name from Mali and he has been aptly described as Spiderman. In the viral video which made its rounds across major media newsrooms and can be found at YouTube, the man who was also an immigrant climbs walls while on his way to save a little child who was dangerously dangling on the balcony.

At last, an excellent piece of news headline concerning Africa as found its way to major news platform and the continent is being spoken of in glowing and fond terms. We should make no mistake: Africa has always been a continent which possesses a beautiful illustrious history and even though such beautiful aspects of the continental arts, values and systems have been painted in Artworks and portrayed by award winning authors like Chimamanda Adichie, Nnedi Okorafor, and others. This beautiful side of the continent has also been shown in the recent blockbuster film Black Panther released by Marvel. However the narratives that showcase Africa as a continent filled with hate crimes, poverty, pain and as a hub for intense humanitarian crisis still continues to make waves within western media and that is why the real life Spiderman story made real waves across the world.

Humanity ought to keep uniting in the face of the dangers that keep besetting everyone. Despite the difference in our races and differing experiences that we have passed through the course of our lives, it remains vital that we recognize our uniqueness and work towards removing every dark spot of pain from the earth through acts of kindness. Mamoudou Gassama risked his own life to protect the life of a child which was not his and from there united everyone in praise of his actions. Imagine how much we would all unite when we all engage in acts of kindness that are extended to everyone around our environment. Little drops of kindness will really transition into an ocean of peace if we remain dedicated.

In the legendary words of Bob Marley, "One love keep us together"

Two gentlemen walk into a club. They are immediately assailed by a barge of women of the street who begin to engage in teasing lewd acts with the duo. The younger, bold, stout, bald and always wearing a wickedly grin, glances over at the bartender and at the same time shoos the women away who now hone in their attention on the elderly jacket wearing companion. He salivates, brings out a clean Cuban from his pocket, extends it towards one of the ladies and makes the cigar slither across her back for a short while before making an abrupt stop and extending it to his mate. A metalic cutter is produced from the inner jacket and the butt of the cigar is cut off with a silver coated lighter pumped to emit a ball of air suspended fire which produced a wisp of smoke.

The older man keeps flirting with three of the best which the inn had to offer, tugging at their brasseries and at the same time trying to slid his hand further deeper into their loosely fitted gowns. A shot rings out and blood mixed with brain matter splatters across the entire length of the bar which is made of fine acacia wood. The bartender lunges to hug the bare cold floor; a shock-induced reactionary move already perfected from years of evading death from stray bullets ejected from blood thirsty metallic AK, otherwise christened 'street-sweepers' by the OGs who caressed them more than they did their women.

The women in muffled screams scramble into different hideouts already carved out from years of evading murder from gunslingers who have had above the limit alcohol in their system, crazed clients whose beastial appetites had been whet to an overflowing extent but did not have the complete cash to re-enact their crazy fantasies, Pimping dope dealers who usually came looking for their bitches who had mistakenly snuffed the product they were supposed to deliver along with the carnal algebraic lessons they were supposed to teach the clients, and the usual band of drunk college students who occasionally decided to pick on innocently looking Marines which resulted in a free for all brawl where the students would be stretched away with broken limbs, disjointed jaws and a string of slurring curse words still being hurled.

The killer, the younger man, sits with ease and continues taking shots of the fiery scotch to quench the rising fear of the retaliatory war which was bound to break out in the city when the capones see the bloody sprawled body of their leader. With the air of a skilled mortician, he calmly prodded the head of once adored Mafioso who had once, when stark naked in his magnificent suite, declared himself to be more secured than God and more connected than the Pentagon. Tongue projecting loosely from the mouth and the familiar repugnant scent of piss mixed with shit which was plastered to his pants, the older man was truly dead. A confirmation that calmed the younger man who reclined back on the stool and poured himself a fresh round of whisky on the rocks.

A smile.
Calm spread across his shoulders.
Two murders avenged.
Two restless spirits placated.
A good night in all.

The snow storm closed in on her as she furiously skidded like her pa, a old veteran and an Olympian in the sport of rowing, always did when battling the disgruntled sea.
Hail, hard as the granite stones used to pave the streets of her beloved Beirut back in Lebanon, lunged- excited by the velocity of the storm- and hit her squarely on all parts of her body as she kept skidding.
The elusive fear of death, which had rarely threatened her in her 3 year career of skiing across the Alps in preparations for the next Winter Olympics, rose to its highest peak within her: causing her mouth to utter low gasping tones enriched with the tone of fear with her eyes also darting from side to side to identify any sign of the rescue chopper which was always ready to roam the skies in search of skiers to rescue in the event of an ice storm.

Back at a well lit cabin, 15 kilometers from where the skier was battling death, were the two helicopter operators.
Sitting across each other with an ouija board in front of them and a flask containing hot chocolate which they sipped from at intervals.
Ten minutes into the game, the husband offers a sly wink at his wife of four years whose body, despite two heathly twin girls, had failed to drop into the scrapheap where overweight and flabby bodies where regular disposables.
The wife used to the unspoken matters of the heart, got up from her mat, walked on to put two more logs of wood into the hearth (fireplace) and then slithered towards the waiting man who she had nicknamed 'Prince Arthur' ever since he had metaphorically won the battle of the lances over her heart and had given her the keys to his kingdom.
The two became one again under the sheets with the lights dimmed and the skier forgotten.

Her ebb of hope faded out by the second as the nineteen-foot ice storm kept bulldozing every tree in its path while coming dangerously close to her heel.

She remembered.
A death induced reminisce that occurs to folks with one leg already in the great beyond.

She remembered Farooq and his wife, Aisha.
Two Jordanians who had opened up their home to her and sheltered her when the blood thirsty terrorists had kept chasing her through the streets of Raqqa.
She had hidden in their basement and peeped at the weeping couple as the young wannabe terrorists peppered Farooq's face with slaps while threatning to desecrate Aisha nether regions with a huge AK 47 if the duo did not produce the 'bloody Kafir' who, a small child eating cheesecake next door had told them, was hidden in their house.
The couple had stood firm and maintained ignorance until the last minute when a youngin, eager to rise up the echelon of the organization, ripped open the bodies of the couple while screaming the sacred 'Allau Akbar'.

Perhaps she would meet the couple in Al-janah, she thought as her mind thrust further back in reminisce.

She remembered the coptic Cardinal Gerald and his loyal doberman Toby.
A clergyman who had truly understood the depth of sin which weighed heavily on her and had shown her a single scripture which had lifted the burden.
She remembered always sitting in his office while he was engaged in his pastoral duties to the congregation; her hand firmly clutching a little brown rubber ball which the eyes of the doberman followed studiously.
Then she would open the backdoor to the church field and throw the ball while yelling 'fetch boy!' to the delight of the dog who would work himself into a frenzy of slobbering and tail wagging before bursting forward to catch the ball.

That day she received that cold call sprang before her memory.
Walking leisurely, hands clutched, with Ben a Harvard student she had met at a café in Paris, her phone had rang out and she quickly flashed a quick smile to two ballerinas who waved to her from their makeshift dance gym at the corner of the street.

"Padre Gerald is gone. He was blown to pieces by a Turk sucide bomber who attached the church. I am deeply sorry for your loss"
Reality had dampened after her ears had picked up the first sentence. Her brand new Samsung had slipped out of her fingers and hit the brick street while the fireworks that Ben had been pointing out to her while reminding her of the grandiose Fourth of July celebrations usually held in the States suddenly did not hold any beauty for her to behold.
The tears had flowed non-stop from her point of departure at the Bordeaux airport to her short chauffeured inside the Benz and more floodgates had been unleashed when the shovel was placed in her hands in at the cementary in Venice where the Cardinal had asked to be buried alongside his pa.

Padre Gerald had told her about heaven.
And she offered a quick thanks to her Jesus before kissing the little silver coated cross she kept in her pockets.
The ice storm finally caught up with the runner; lifting her frail body and tossing it wide like a baseball player batting the ball.
While her bones crunched and her neck snapped, she muttered a quick 'Hallelujah' before her spirit stepped into eternity.
#Isaiah50:4

Perhaps I am mad.
Maybe a screwbolt is loose in my head and that causes me to dance strange.
Maybe a loony bat has bitten me and infected me with that fever that manifests through wild dance.
Maybe my village people have finally located my 'loco' button and maybe their one year old child is pressing it incessantly like a male child does to a barbie doll.
Or maybe the spirit of David has possessed a willing host and started manifesting.
Either way, the personal victories I get would determine the real truth of the matter.

Perhaps I am a big fool.
Maybe I have big dumb drooly ears that refuse to listen to any advice that I should become 'sharp'
Maybe the spirit of poverty has so held on to me that I am not willing to pass through any other 'fast' route to making money.
Maybe my wife is a very mellow 'nkita' (dog) that has refused to bark daily into my ears; reminding me of the need to be like my friends and add a couple of zeros to every cheque book.
Maybe I am stuck in the old ways, refusing to upgrade to the 'Ebuka' kind of tailor and still remaining dead serious in my deals.
Or maybe I have chosen to stick to the principles of the one who has called me into His marvellous light.
Either way, His words to me on that last day as well as the crowns I would get would determine if I was indeed smart or very stupid.

Perhaps I am a gross failure
Maybe I have chosen to ignore other pursuits and stuck my guns to saving the lost.
Maybe the angel that shares riches decided to skip visiting my abode and I refused to chase intensely after him, instead choosing to chase the lost souls.
Maybe I have forgotten that it would be easier to give my cash and then allow others to go and face the guns while preaching the goodnews.
Maybe my brain is leaking and has failed to process the information that my destination is an evil forest where twin babies are left to die and evil gnomes with two hundred and sixteen penises roam around naked.
Or maybe I have decided that to live and die in the service of Christ is gain.
Either way, the kind of ovation which would welcome me when I reach that eternal city would determine if it was all worth it.

Perhaps, I am a big he goat with no sense residing in my skull.
Maybe I am very stupid for not realizing that science is king and that miracles are not real.
Maybe the ant of pain has eaten the softest parts of my brain and that has made me a zombie that believes wholeheartedly in the power of faith.
Maybe the thing they said about me falling on my head when I was a child is correct and I am expecting a miracle when the situation looks dead.
Maybe I do not understand that the laws of the universe remain the same and nothing can just cause my broken spinal cord to repair suddenly.
Or maybe I have decided to plant my mustard seed of faith into the ground while expecting a rain.
Either way, my testimonies would determine if I am a mad man for believing or they are the mad ones for not believing.
#Bashorun

Hello friends.
This is a particularly wonderful guest post from a mentor of mine Ilo Unuigbe who blogs at peoplewhoroll.blogspot.com.

Trust me: Her healing verses are straight from the throne of grace. Be blessed as you read.

I stared at the mirror and tears rolled down my swollen cheeks.

The image staring back at me was the most horrifying thing I had ever seen. My face was disfigured in so many ways that I couldn’t reconcile the image in the mirror with the heart shaped face I had come to know as mine for the past 22years.

I was told it was a minor injury and I would get better in no time. But my face disagreed with everything they said, every part of my body ached and nothing made it better.

My body hurt and I was bruised in many places but the very thing that was broken in that accident was my heart. To be precise the heart break happened months before but that’s another one for another day. But something shattered inside of me when that car crashed, something so deep, I fear words are not enough to describe the depth. I was in so much pain and I was convinced that the pain ran deeper than my muscles and bones. It went straight to my heart.

I stepped away from the mirror and walked back to my bed, wiping my cheeks because I needed to be strong or at least appear to be.

As I lay on my bed, I had so many questions.

“Why?”

“God. Why?”

“You love me, but why am I in so much pain?”

“Where do I go from here?”

I had literally lost everything.

The day before the accident that landed me in the hospital was the most humiliating day of my life. I had lost my job, without any precedence or explanation. Yes, I had little savings but the hospital bill was accumulating so fast and by my calculations if I didn’t get discharged soon, I’d be down to my last five digits soon.

With nowhere and no one to turn to, I closed my eyes and let the hot tears make a soggy mess of my pillow.

You might not understand the depth of pain in those questions, but the woman that lost her fiancé in an accident understands.

The man that lost everything in a fire understands.

The youth that has roamed the streets, jobless and hungry understands.

The mother that lost her baby after nine months of carrying that child and 23hours of painful labour understands.

The woman that was drugged and raped at her best friend’s party understands.

The child that was orphaned as a result of senseless killings understands.

If you understand…wait for the rain. Because when the rain comes, it washes it all away.

The mud caked shoes,

The blood stained sheets,

The broken pieces,

The pain of yesterday,

The regrets,

The tears,

The pain.

It washes it all away.

“Joel 2:23

So rejoice, O sons of Zion, And be glad in the LORD your God; For He has given you the early rain for your vindication And He has poured down for you the rain, The early and latter rain as before.”

Hello friends. This is a feature article from a unique friend who also dubs as an analyst.
Enjoy this piece from Lillpacboi

In an economy where a common Nigerian lives below one dollar per day, buying a unit of aircraft or a piece of defence equipment worth over 200 million dollars look outrageous, but when we examine the negative impacts and catastrophic effects which forces such as Islamic insurgency, civil wars and proxy wars have wrecked stable states around the world, the dire need to shore up our defence is reaffirmed and hence, the need for a level of investment in the outdated Nigerian defence ministry.

Like other African powers such as Egypt, Libya, Ethiopia, and South Africa that boast of Aircrafts such as; F-16, Mig-23, SU-24, SU-25, Jas-39. The Nigerian Air Force (NAF) is the air arm of the Nigerian Armed Forces. It is one of the largest in Africa, consisting of about 10,000 personnel and aircraft including 12 Chinese Chengdu F-7s, and 11 Dassault-Dornier Alpha Jets, armed helicopters, and military transport aircraft.

Nigeria penned a deal for a mixed haul of Mi-35M and Mi-171Sh Terminator helicopters with the Russians in Sept 2014. Mi-35 (Super hind) and its presence in the Sambisa forest does tilt the fight against the Boko haram terrorists on the side of the Nigerian Army. With the war against insurgency being far from over, President Donald Trump’s administration is pushing forward with plans to sell up to a dozen aircrafts to Nigeria’s Air force for the fight against the extremist group ‘Boko Haram’. Sources report that the deal could be worth up to $600 million (about N184 billion).

Former President Barack Obama’s administration originally agreed on the sale, but delayed it after humanitarian crisis incidents, including the Nigerian Air Force’s bombing of a refugee camp in January, a strike that killed 90 to 170 civilians.

A close look at Super Tucano A-29 aircraft, an agile, propeller-driven plane with reconnaissance and surveillance as well as attack capabilities, made by Brazil’s Embraer, is like a backward movement in air warfare technology though the aircrafts are recently produced.

In a country cultured with mismanagement and gross lack of maintenance, a clamour for a fifth generation aircraft in form of technology advancement is like stockpiling our home with open cans of fuel while we walk around, smoking.

A-29 is a turboprop light attack aircraft designed for counter-insurgency (COIN) measures. Its functions include providing close air support, Aerial reconnaissance missions in low-threat environments, as well as providing pilot training. Designed to operate in high temperature and humidity conditions as well as extremely rugged terrain, the Super Tucano is highly maneuverable, has a low heat signature, and incorporates fourth-generation avionics and weapons system to deliver precision-guided munitions.

According to Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft 2008-9, this is a close air support, manned aircraft with a pilot and sensor operator. It has a flight endurance of more than six hours, carries several sensors, can be armed with a heavy machine gun in each wing and has mounts for bombs, cannon and rocket pods. It can also be landed on an unimproved airstrip such as a road, refueled in minutes and sent right back into the fray.

EMBRAER EMB-314 SUPER TUCANO:

-wingspan 11.14 meters

-wing area 19.4 sq. meters

-length 11.42 meters

-height 3.9 meters

-empty weight 2,420 kg

-MTO weight 3,190 kg

-max speed (alt) 555kph

-take-off run 350 meters

-landing run 550 meters

-service ceiling 10,670m

-range, internal fuel 1,570 kilometers

Mr. Trump’s plan to move ahead with the Nigerian sale was first reported on Monday by the Associated Press.

The U.S. congressional source reported that Human rights concerns remain, despite support for the sale from some lawmakers.

Here are some questions to be asked about the anticipated deal;

1. Will Nigeria will be able to pay the full $600 million for the aircraft, equipment, training and support.

2. Has the Nigerian government and NAF effectively used the equipments they have in hand (resource management).

3. Not doubting the ability of Nigerian Army in combat, has the Nigerian government taken a look into other options in tactics and equipment? And are deals with other world powers and allies considered?

4. According to President Donald Trump, there is no deal as fair deal It’s either good or bad. This raises an immediate question. Are we getting a fair deal with the American since each unit of A-29 cost 10 - 16 million dollars?

There is no doubt that Nigeria needs investment in military and defence ministry much more than civilian population see a sense in it, but we must understand how much judicial are the use of these investments, and how much advancement, in-view both internal and external, we are considering before any large or small scale investment in the defence ministries in particular and for maintaining the security of the citizenry in general.

(Lillpacboi)

Hello esteemed friends.
Here is another powerful article from the pen on Odumosu Oluwafunke Tiwalade. I pray you are blessed as you read.

The thunder roared.
The lightning took different forms.
Even the stars dimmed
The moon seemed to fade out.
The brightness gradually lost its purpose in the midst of the chaos.

Men fears increased.
Living things wondered.

The readers of the clouds and time confirmed it was time.
Time for the whole earth to lose hope.

The demons rejoiced.
Even the serpent bragged of its wit.
Finally the earth is mine !

He came to my abode,
Thinking I could be defeated.

Humans uncertainties increased.
The earth experienced an increased mixture of sadness and joy;

Joy on the part of the devil devotees;
Fear registered in the hearts of the righteous

Decision making process began,
Massive decamping were recorded
So many had forgotten the promises!

In the midst of the darkness,
None noticed the veil being torn .

Those who noticed, attributed it to the devil.
“Alas! he has come to take over the temple too" came the cry.

None noticed the earthquake,
Those who did, attributed it to the end of the world

None noticed the dead coming back to life.
Those who did, attributed it to a zombie outbreak.

From His throne, God roared again,

“why why why are my children not seeing as I see ?
Why can't they see that the darkness is not the beginning of the rule of evil?
But like the beginning, I am working on the waters.

Bringing light where there is darkness;
Order out of confusion;
Life in the place of death;
Substance in the place of void.

Oo Children, you all need to see as I see.
For the death is the beginning of life
And as the beginning commandment to form things that are not ,to things that be

Why can't they see that the death is
Is the beginning of a life?
The ending of separation and the beginning of a reunion

A new creation has been born
With a new mandate
One they can't trade this time.
One which they are immune to the world and the devil

Unlike the beginning
The man has defeated the devil before he is even tempted ,
The man has strength to say no
The woman resists and the devil flees
Unlike the beginning the truth is now accepted on earth

The truth; the confusion didn't birth a BEGINING of the devil rule, however it birthed the SONS OF GOD
We are the SONS, we defy all odds
HE IS ABLE THAT WORKS IN US

For now we know and accept that the death was the beginning of the refining of Priest
One who have defeated even before they are tempted
One who have truly and fully taken the image and likeness of the father

We are defiance
We take our rightful place!

Glory to the KING
Who has ordained us to reign just like the beginning
We make no mistakes now
Glory for the King reigns !

Odumosu Oluwafunke Tiwalade is a lady saved by grace, who loves the Lord and believes in His ability to repair broken walls, through THE WORD AND PRAYERS!

She blogs at ourheartfeltstories.blogspot.com

BashorunsBlog

SPOKEN WORD

CATEGORIES

Popular Posts

Labels

Blog Archive

Pages