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Constant Asabia
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Constant Asabia

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Success is failure turned inside out... Just go check it out... Be curious, be successful... Failure is a mindset, Success is a mindset... What do u set your mind on? Terrifically CONSTANT...
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http://www.aboutondostate.com/ First class News about our New Ondo State, Nigeria... follow us here..
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Why I said NO to BonVoyage
Dear CONSTANT,

This is why I said NO to BonVoyage!

I have actually tried my best not to comment about this for 1yr and a few months now. I have learnt by experience to mind my own business and not talk down another person's business. I have learnt that mudslinging only dirties the participants. Many times however, I have seen people who love and respect me make blunders because in the moments of their error, I was silent. While I certainly am not responsible for the world, I am at least responsible for some people who trust my judgement, who can benefit from my experience and who don't need to make the same mistakes I have made in the past. If you fall into any of these categories, then this little piece of mine should be instructive. If you are however ahead of me or don't value my opinion, please kindly ignore.



I said no because of the following reasons, sorry if they sound brief, I expect this to only be valuable for people who want to be shown the right direction, not people who are already lost.



1. I have been involved in my days of ignorance in a number of board based network marketing companies. I even dared developing a model myself. I learnt the hard sad way, that network marketing companies with boards or forced matrix are a time bomb. The systems will congeal after 18 months, the boards will grind to a halt!



2. I have learnt by experience, that the profit margin for the owners of the company is so slim that they depend on those who will never make it to earn. All those stuck in the boards are known as breakage, and these money's cannot be spent until you are sure the boards have become relatively frozen. Once the owner takes profit, the businesses either getaway, or the owners say bonvoyage. At this time, the pay out options reduce and the only way you can get any money is by using the vouchers you earn to pay for new people.



3. Board based Network Marketing companies have another fundamental flaw, they allow for cheating. Well, if you run your life by true north principles this would be difficult for you. How? Many of the first movers buy 10, 20, 50 positions (of course you don't need 2 of the products being sold, one is enough). They buy these multiple accounts so that when they market their friends, they can "cycle out" about 10 times before things get warmed up. Many have realized that the hope of one account earning more than 5 times in the entire lifespan of the business is a pipe dream. The boards are flawed and allow for gaming and cheating.



4. Some people say, "I know it will crash, but I will make my money first". I am sorry, I cannot live my life knowing that I am putting other people into jeopardy. In the time of Ignorance God winks at. Now that I know for sure it will crash, I can't be a part of it.



5. I saw the beginning and end of getawayclub, diamond cash club, six star travel, eplatinum club, family home club and travel access club. I literally knew when they started and when they ended. Boards don't last, they are not built to.



6. The earning potential is good in the beginning, you earn $1000 in the case of Bonvoyage which is simply identical to Travel Access Club for doing very little, but if you have one account and earned on it more than 5 times, it means you already have a team nearing 30,000 or you have been conning your downlines out of their referrals. As time goes and the company grows you realize there is no residual income value from these businesses, once you stop being active, in a maximum of 2-3 months you totally stop earning. The early birds realize that they can no longer earn without a lot of personal effort, their zeal to help new comers reduce and they are all stuck... until another program shows up, and they begin to tell this same people to come to something more exciting.



7. Finally, if not for the grace of God, and the fact that I wear my heart in my sleeves and genuinely am interested in people. I would have by now earned an irreparable reputation for just my strong participation in one of these companies. Because these companies sell products that people can't fall back on when the system crashes, there is really nothing for those who paid and didn't get money back. The lack of value of the product only goes to further show that these are not even network marketing companies in the real sense.



These are 7 reasons why I said no! I still get called by people who believe if they can get me, they will get thousands of others, well, I'm sorry, you cannot get me. If I didn't know what I know, I would have been the first person in many companies in Nigeria... the company owners know who to approach. I have learnt to decline. There are opportunities that are not worth it on the long run.



What do I suggest



1. If you are in already, don't bother to invite your friends to get you out. Leave it, and consider it a business loss. It's better to lose N63,000 than lose the trust link that can make you positioned for greater things.



2. If you are considering it, don't. It's almost 18 months and the end is nearer than you think.


Adeolu Akinyemi
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Constant Asabia

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Without strength from within, you will never have respect from without... Any achievement starts from the mind as a "thought"... As a man thinks so is he..." The strength within keeps you going even when the forces without resist... Be strong & be CONSTANTLY courageous.. Have a gd day...
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It's important for good person to know how to listen as well as to talk. We often forget that communication is an exchange. Looking for d solution without listening to d problem is working in d dark. God still speaks to those who take time to listen. Gd am
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You Lazy (Intellectual) African Scum! - Written by Field Ruwe


If you haven't read this article yet, do so...some serious stuff! Written by Field Ruwe, a Zambian journalist and author...
They call the Third World the lazy man’s purview; the sluggishly slothful and languorous prefecture. In this realm people are sleepy, dreamy, torpid, lethargic, and therefore indigent—totally penniless, needy, destitute, poverty-stricken, disfavored, and impoverished. In this demesne, as they call it, there are hardly any discoveries, inventions, and innovations. Africa is the trailblazer. Some still call it “the dark continent” for the light that flickers under the tunnel is not that of hope, but an approaching train. And because countless keep waiting in the way of the train, millions die and many more remain decapitated by the day.
Please continue...



“It’s amazing how you all sit there and watch yourselves die,” the man next to me said. “Get up and do something about it.”
Brawny, fully bald-headed, with intense, steely eyes, he was as cold as they come. When I first discovered I was going to spend my New Year’s Eve next to him on a non-stop JetBlue flight from Los Angeles to Boston I was angst-ridden. I associate marble-shaven Caucasians with iconoclastic skin-heads, most of who are racist.
“My name is Walter,” he extended his hand as soon as I settled in my seat.
I told him mine with a precautious smile.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Zambia.”
“Zambia!” he exclaimed, “Kaunda’s country.”
“Yes,” I said, “Now Sata’s.”
“But of course,” he responded. “You just elected King Cobra as your president.”
My face lit up at the mention of Sata’s moniker. Walter smiled, and in those cold eyes I saw an amenable fellow, one of those American highbrows who shuttle between Africa and the U.S.
“I spent three years in Zambia in the 1980s,” he continued. “I wined and dined with Luke Mwananshiku, Willa Mungomba, Dr. Siteke Mwale, and many other highly intelligent Zambians.” He lowered his voice. “I was part of the IMF group that came to rip you guys off.” He smirked. “Your government put me in a million dollar mansion overlooking a shanty called Kalingalinga. From my patio I saw it all—the rich and the poor, the ailing, the dead, and the healthy.”
“Are you still with the IMF?” I asked.
“I have since moved to yet another group with similar intentions. In the next few months my colleagues and I will be in Lusaka to hypnotize the cobra. I work for the broker that has acquired a chunk of your debt. Your government owes not the World Bank, but us millions of dollars. We’ll be in Lusaka to offer your president a couple of millions and fly back with a check twenty times greater.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “King Cobra is incorruptible. He is …”
He was laughing. “Says who? Give me an African president, just one, who has not fallen for the carrot and stick.”
Quett Masire’s name popped up.
“Oh, him, well, we never got to him because he turned down the IMF and the World Bank. It was perhaps the smartest thing for him to do.”
At midnight we were airborne. The captain wished us a happy 2012 and urged us to watch the fireworks across Los Angeles.
“Isn’t that beautiful,” Walter said looking down.
From my middle seat, I took a glance and nodded admirably.
“That’s white man’s country,” he said. “We came here on Mayflower and turned Indian land into a paradise and now the most powerful nation on earth. We discovered the bulb, and built this aircraft to fly us to pleasure resorts like Lake Zambia.”
I grinned. “There is no Lake Zambia.”
He curled his lips into a smug smile. “That’s what we call your country. You guys are as stagnant as the water in the lake. We come in with our large boats and fish your minerals and your wildlife and leave morsels—crumbs. That’s your staple food, crumbs. That corn-meal you eat, that’s crumbs, the small Tilapia fish you call Kapenta is crumbs. We the Bwanas (whites) take the cat fish. I am the Bwana and you are the Muntu. I get what I want and you get what you deserve, crumbs. That’s what lazy people get—Zambians, Africans, the entire Third World.”
The smile vanished from my face.
“I see you are getting pissed off,” Walter said and lowered his voice. “You are thinking this Bwana is a racist. That’s how most Zambians respond when I tell them the truth. They go ballistic. Okay. Let’s for a moment put our skin pigmentations, this black and white crap, aside. Tell me, my friend, what is the difference between you and me?”
“There’s no difference.”
“Absolutely none,” he exclaimed. “Scientists in the Human Genome Project have proved that. It took them thirteen years to determine the complete sequence of the three billion DNA subunits. After they
were all done it was clear that 99.9% nucleotide bases were exactly the same in you and me. We are the same people. All white, Asian, Latino, and black people on this aircraft are the same.”
I gladly nodded.
“And yet I feel superior,” he smiled fatalistically. “Every white person on this plane feels superior to a black person. The white guy who picks up garbage, the homeless white trash on drugs, feels superior to you no matter his status or education. I can pick up a nincompoop from the New York streets, clean him up, and take him to Lusaka and you all be crowding around him chanting muzungu, muzungu and yet he’s a riffraff. Tell me why my angry friend.”
For a moment I was wordless.
“Please don’t blame it on slavery like the African Americans do, or colonialism, or some psychological impact or some kind of stigmatization. And don’t give me the brainwash poppycock. Give me a better answer.”
I was thinking.
He continued. “Excuse what I am about to say. Please do not take offense.”
I felt a slap of blood rush to my head and prepared for the worst.
“You my friend flying with me and all your kind are lazy,” he said. “When you rest your head on the pillow you don’t dream big. You and other so-called African intellectuals are damn lazy, each one of you. It is you, and not those poor starving people, who is the reason Africa is in such a deplorable state.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say,” I protested.
He was implacable. “Oh yes it is and I will say it again, you are lazy. Poor and uneducated Africans are the most hardworking people on earth. I saw them in the Lusaka markets and on the street selling merchandise. I saw them in villages toiling away. I saw women on Kafue Road crushing stones for sell and I wept. I said to myself where are the Zambian intellectuals? Are the Zambian engineers so imperceptive they cannot invent a simple stone crusher, or a simple water filter to purify well water for those poor villagers? Are you telling me that after thirty-seven years of independence your university school of engineering has not produced a scientist or an engineer who can make simple small machines for mass use? What is the school there for?”
I held my breath.
“Do you know where I found your intellectuals? They were in bars quaffing. They were at the Lusaka Golf Club, Lusaka Central Club, Lusaka Playhouse, and Lusaka Flying Club. I saw with my own eyes a bunch of alcoholic graduates. Zambian intellectuals work from eight to five and spend the evening drinking. We don’t. We reserve the evening for brainstorming.”
He looked me in the eye.
“And you flying to Boston and all of you Zambians in the Diaspora are just as lazy and apathetic to your country. You don’t care about your country and yet your very own parents, brothers and sisters are in Mtendere, Chawama, and in villages, all of them living in squalor. Many have died or are dying of neglect by you. They are dying of AIDS because you cannot come up with your own cure. You are here calling yourselves graduates, researchers and scientists and are fast at articulating your credentials once asked—oh, I have a PhD in this and that—PhD my foot!”
I was deflated.
“Wake up you all!” he exclaimed, attracting the attention of nearby passengers. “You should be busy lifting ideas, formulae, recipes, and diagrams from American manufacturing factories and sending them to your own factories. All those research findings and dissertation papers you compile should be your country’s treasure. Why do you think the Asians are a force to reckon with? They stole our ideas and turned them into their own. Look at Japan, China, India, just look at them.”
He paused. “The Bwana has spoken,” he said and grinned. “As long as you are dependent on my plane, I shall feel superior and you my friend shall remain inferior, how about that? The Chinese, Japanese, Indians, even Latinos are a notch better. You Africans are at the bottom of the totem pole.”
He tempered his voice. “Get over this white skin syndrome and begin to feel confident. Become innovative and make your own stuff for god’s sake.”
At 8 a.m. the plane touched down at Boston’s Logan International Airport. Walter reached for my hand.
“I know I was too strong, but I don’t give it a damn. I have been to Zambia and have seen too much poverty.” He pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something. “Here, read this. It was written by a friend.”
He had written only the title: “Lords of Poverty.”
Thunderstruck, I had a sinking feeling. I watched Walter walk through the airport doors to a waiting car. He had left a huge dust devil twirling in my mind, stirring up sad memories of home. I could see Zambia’s literati—the cognoscente, intelligentsia, academics, highbrows, and scholars in the places he had mentioned guzzling and talking irrelevancies. I remembered some who have since passed—how they got the highest grades in mathematics and the sciences and attained the highest education on the planet. They had been to Harvard, Oxford, Yale, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), only to leave us with not a single invention or discovery. I knew some by name and drunk with them at the Lusaka Playhouse and Central Sports.
Walter is right. It is true that since independence we have failed to nurture creativity and collective orientations. We as a nation lack a workhorse mentality and behave like 13 million civil servants dependent on a government pay cheque. We believe that development is generated 8-to-5 behind a desk wearing a tie with our degrees hanging on the wall. Such a working environment does not offer the opportunity for fellowship, the excitement of competition, and the spectacle of innovative rituals.
But the intelligentsia is not solely, or even mainly, to blame. The larger failure is due to political circumstances over which they have had little control. The past governments failed to create an environment of possibility that fosters camaraderie, rewards innovative ideas and encourages resilience. KK, Chiluba, Mwanawasa, and Banda embraced orthodox ideas and therefore failed to offer many opportunities for drawing outside the line.
I believe King Cobra’s reset has been cast in the same faculties as those of his predecessors. If today I told him that we can build our own car, he would throw me out.
“Naupena? Fuma apa.” (Are you mad? Get out of here)
Knowing well that King Cobra will not embody innovation at Walter’s level let’s begin to look for a technologically active-positive leader who can succeed him after a term or two. That way we can make our own stone crushers, water filters, water pumps, razor blades, and harvesters. Let’s dream big and make tractors, cars, and planes, or, like Walter said, forever remain inferior.
A fundamental transformation of our country from what is essentially non-innovative to a strategic superior African country requires a bold risk-taking educated leader with a triumphalist attitude and we have one in YOU. Don’t be highly strung and feel insulted by Walter. Take a moment and think about our country. Our journey from 1964 has been marked by tears. It has been an emotionally overwhelming experience. Each one of us has lost a loved one to poverty, hunger, and disease. The number of graves is catching up with the population. It’s time to change our political culture. It’s time for Zambian intellectuals to cultivate an active-positive progressive movement that will change our lives forever. Don’t be afraid or dispirited, rise to the challenge and salvage the remaining few of your beloved ones.

Field Ruwe is a US-based Zambian media practitioner and author. He is a PhD candidate with a B.A. in Mass Communication and Journalism, and an M.A. in History.
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The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty
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