“ideas come from everything” Alfred Hitchcock.
If it was mine to define, I would have called an idea the smallest form any constructive thought could possess within the depths of our mind.
What I Just wrote is open to debate because u am aware of the variety of our thought pattern even in respect to the topic. But allow me say here that an idea us as great a thought as a thought is an idea both in relative terms and even in contrast.
In relative; that an idea is a thought and in abstract; that a thought may necessarily not be an idea.
Being abstractly oriented, I tend to draw inspiration from knowledge that all things were brought to be by the power of imagination which alternatively means thoughts. As such, existence is a great function of the mind.
Let me then call a thought an idea and…

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Crawling out of Poverty and underdevelopment has been our holy grail as a nation, Nigeria a country blessed with abundant natural resourses and 6th largest producer of crude oil in the world has remained largely underdeveloped with an estimated 65% of its 160million population living below the poverty line, a serious infrastructural deficit,high unemployement rate, insecurity, corruption and impunity the country seems to be sitting on a keg of gunpowder waiting to explode. The team of hope is my own way of trying to solve this myriad of challenges, and I will tell you how it all started. Few years agobarely 18 and leaving home for the first time in pursuit of a university education, I found myself in Jos, a restive Nigerian city in the throes of an internecine crisis. Although the storm had been gathering in the land for a long period of time, a deep resentment had formed between the Muslim Hausa/Fulani immigrants, and the predominantly Christian tribes of Jos, Plateau State. During my first months in Jos, posterity brought me in contact with some young boys within the age bracket of 7 to about 15 years old. The Angwan-Rogo boys as I will latter name them. Angwan-Rogo was one of the many slum communities in jos and strategically situated between the university of Jos campus and the city centre. The Angwan-Rogo boys had no education,or parental care.They survived by begging for food on the streets. During my frequent passage through angwan-rogo I became friends with this children because they regularly engage in a sport I love so much football and particularly I took a special liking for one of them named Umar. Umar like every other child had a dream,he wanted to be a doctor,a decision he made after watching some of his childhood friends die from typhoid and malaria. On November 28, 2008, I witnessed the university town of Jos being thrown into a bloody unrest. Like an explosion able to effect large-scale destruction within a breath of time, thousands of women, children and properties worth millions of Naira (Nigeria’s local currency) were destroyed. It was chilling to witness young men being cut down on side streets, their blood staining the dirt roads. I watched as youths I shook hands with the previous night went on berserk, marking a trail of destruction in their wake. It was for me a moment of discovery, of epiphany. Standing with my heart thrombosed with shock and fright, I could see through the root of the crisis, the subterranean devils rousing the rubble. It was, I could see, growing frustration, impunity and poverty that have rubbed my people of the last vestiges of human civilization.just like Peter Cunliffe-Jones wrote here in an article 2010/mar/08/nigeria-jos-christian-muslim-killings . I made a pledge that whatever it would cost me, wherever it would take me, I was going to devote my life to helping my country find a solution. After the bloody violence of November 28,Jos was partitioned into two,as a Christian it became a suicide to visit a Muslim community like Angwan-Rogo and also dangerous for a Muslim to go to Christian dominated settlements even up till today.I never got to see my friend Umar again until I graduated from college and left Jos in 2012. I had wanted to return to Angwan-Rogo to merge the Angwan-Rogo boys with some other boys from an orphanage home I worked in as a volunteer named ‘gidan bege’ meaning home of hope in hausa the predominant language spoken in Jos after English. I wanted to form a “Team of Hope”. But that was never to be,i could’nt go back to Angwan-Rogo,it was a deadly mission -one that would have cost me the ultimate price -my life. Years later,i look back ar the consequences of my action or in-action, what would have a team of hope achieved? would it have united the two striving communities? what has become of Umar and the other footballers? . I ask myself these questions everyday. But now I have a second chance to build my team of hope,and even a bigger one with the #TeamOfHopeInitiative and am not building it alone I urge you to be part of the movement that will touch lives, help communities and change Nigeria forever. join my tean #theteamofhope

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