From nuclear bombs to weapons used in war, we take a look at some of the most dangerous weapons ever created.
10. “Valley of Love” —
Lost Wonders of the World
9. Victoria Falls
8. Temple of Artemis
7. Lighthouse of Alexandriag
6. The Hanging Garden of Babylon
5. Hagia Sophia
4. Taj Mehal of Agra
3. Cristo Rendetor Statue.
1. The Great Wall of China
5. Cannibalistic Restaurant
4. El Diablo
3. Tombs Restaurant
2. Condom Restaurant
1. Clothing Optional Dinners
Yacht of the Future? – as part of the travel series by GeoBeats.
Nothing symbolizes a fun, luxurious lifestyle better than a yacht floating in a clear blue ocean.
And the yacht industry is constantly pushing the envelope to redefine a yacht.
Yacht Island Design group based out of the UK has created a Tropical Island Paradise yacht concept which is simply stunning.
As the name suggests, you essentially have a tropical island on the yacht itself. Guest cabanas are laid out around the pool and if you are the lucky owner, your suite is inside a volcano.
A waterfall flows from the volcano into the swimming pool. Inside, there’s a fully equipped spa, library, gym, spa, cinema, game room and multiple lounges.
Want to get closer to water? A deployable beach deck gives you ocean access for various water activities or lounging around in a different setting.
And if you don’t want to leave your helicopter behind or flying a guest over, the deck at the rear end can be used as a helicopter landing pad.
Ever dream of living in a lavish mansion? Maybe one with an indoor pool, basketball courts, and enough rooms to house a small army?The houses on this list are massive and absolutely stunning, which is why they cost so much. These are the top 5 most outrageously expensive homes in the world!
5 Most Expensive Houses in the World
5. Kensington Palace Gardens, UK
4. Fair Field, USA
3. Villa La Leopolda, France
2. Antilia, India
1. Buckingham Palace, UK
*Donald Trump used a question in Thursday night’s GOP Town Hall with CNN’s Anderson Cooper to boast about how close he was to Michael Jackson, and to offer an unsolicited opinion about his career in the years before his death.
Asked what music he listens to, the presidential candidate mentioned Elton John, the Rolling Stones and The Beatles before reserving the most praise for the King of Pop.
He recalled how MJ lived at his Trump Tower in NY, and how the singer got married to Lisa Marie Presley at one of his VIP clubs, the Mar-a-Lago. “He was up there for one week with her and he never came down,” Trump said. “I don’t know what was going on but they got along.”
“He was an unbelievably talented guy. He lost his confidence. He lost tremendous confidence because of, honestly, bad-bad-bad surgery. He had the worst. He had people that did numbers on him that were just unbelievable,” Trump continued. “Facially, you know, the plastic surgeons. He was an unbelievable talent who actually lost his confidence. Believe it or not, when you lose your confidence in something, you can even lose your talent.”
The Philippine Catholic church on Sunday defended boxing hero Manny Pacquiao for his opposition to gay marriage, saying he was only quoting the Bible.
But Father Jerome Secillano also said over radio station DZMM that Pacquiao should respect homosexuals and not judge and condemn them after the eight-division world champion last week described them as worse than animals.
Pacquiao, 37, who converted from Catholicism to an evangelical Protestant faith late in his boxing career, was pilloried by local gay rights groups and celebrities and has lost lucrative commercial endorsements as a result.
Secillano, executive secretary of the Catholic bishops’ public affairs office, said: “This is really in the Bible. There is this quote he (Pacquiao) uses from the Bible and we cannot change that.”
He said it was “unfair” to condemn Pacquiao for echoing what he reads in the Bible when he was asked about same-sex marriage.
But Secillano also said the boxing hero should not have used such offensive language.
“The church… says that if this is your lifestyle, if this is your orientation, then we respect that, we cannot condemn them,” the priest said.
He reiterated that the Catholic church, which counts 80 percent of Filipinos as followers, still opposed legalisation of same-sex marriage.
Church influence has also kept divorce and abortion from being legalised in the Philippines.
However homosexuality is not criminalised and several LGBT figures have become celebrities.
Pacquiao, who intends to retire after his April fight against American Timothy Bradley to pursue a career in politics, issued an apology on social media on Tuesday but later said his apology was qualified.
Nike, Pacquiao’s major global sponsor, cancelled its endorsement deal with him in the past week, describing his comments as “abhorrent”.
Pacquiao, a former street kid with little education, has used his fame and fortune to launch a political career.
Already a two-term congressman, he is campaigning to win a Senate seat in May elections. Surveys published before the controversy indicated he will win.
Pacquiao has said his ultimate ambition is to be president of the Philippines.
Read article below…
Teachers are the most important persons in anyone’s life. Teachers teach us everything that we know. They inspire us. They leave their imprints, almost like genetic imprints in our lives, and those imprints survive forever. They come in different shapes. The teachers in the classrooms, the ones we meet in our life-long journey of searching and probing. The ones who cross our paths and leave indelible marks.
Even more importantly, the ones that do not carry dusters and chalks but whose lives redefine ours, changing us for better, for real. They write and we read their words and thoughts, or we even just hear about them and their works, and we are recruited as disciples for as long as we live. They could be formal teachers or village elders, raconteurs, musicians, dancers, grandmothers and grandfathers or writers and scientists, but they change us all the same, because the truth is that as we grow, we contend with a multiplicity of influences, and we get influenced, re-born, re-made.
All teachers inspire us with words, with methods, with what they say and what they do, and in the process, they help the world to forge ahead, they extend traditions and thoughts, and even if they never get the rewards that they deserve, they remain unforgettable all the same because teaching is one of the most divine of all professions. This then is a tribute to all teachers, all those illuminated souls who give, and nurture, so that others may grow. What has triggered these ruminations is the report of the death in the United Kingdom, this week, of Carol Dawes, a Jamaican-Nigerian mother, teacher, scholar and great influencer, at 84. Nigerian students of the dramatic arts in the 80s and 90s will remember Mama Dawes fondly, particularly her students and colleagues at the Universities of Port Harcourt, Ife and Calabar, and indeed everyone who was privileged to encounter her.
We never know initially, and we may never really know, but we end up knowing as human beings sooner or later, that life is a journey and that every encounter is a potential opportunity for learning, and that teachers are part of that graph. I have, speaking for myself, been through many journeys and like every one else I am a product of many inputs. I started my own journey with a woman called Iya Ayi, who took me from my parents at a tender age of two, and turned me into a rote-learning machine of alphabets and multiplications and everything else by the age of four. The fable as told was that I was so smart she had to tell my parents that I was ripe enough to go to formal school. There was probably some misjudgment there because today, I am still struggling to prove that I am actually smart. Many years later, I indeed recall the day I was taken to school and I kept failing the test, that old test of asking the child to put his hand across his head, to touch his ear.
If you could do that successfully, you were good enough to start school, but if your hand kept falling short, you’d be asked to go back home. It was Mrs Adewale’s class, Duro’s mother, and after every trial, my hand just could not touch my ear. My father had to confess that I was actually under-aged, but he insisted that I was good enough based on Iya Ayi’s recommendations. A quick test was arranged. The purpose was to make me compete with other children in the class. Two different tests, I was told, and I ended up beating the other students, the ones who had in fact spent some time in the class. That was how I started school. I don’t want to report that for the first few years of primary school life, I used to pee in my pants or waste too much time before telling the teacher I needed to go to the toilet often creating an embarrassing situation, but I was tolerated because I could get all the questions right, and lead the class.
Iya Ayi, when I see her these days, looks really elderly and tired, but she could teach me the alphabets at that time and was the instrument that got me going. Once school started, my elder brother, Alexander took over and I was never allowed to have peace. As young as I was, I was forced to learn the difference between various figures of speech and to differentiate between gerund and whatever. Every growing day was a punishment. Between my elder brother and my father, Temidire Coaching Class at Oke Bode got added to the bill, and there was a back up, Etiko Gambia Class. I was not allowed to breathe. I was forced to learn whatever was possible. Watching television was a sin. Football was meant for specially supervised occasions, and only with known children. Etiko Gambia was even a boxer.
The real teachers in every home, I am trying to say, are the parents, the patriarchs and the matriarchs, and as it happens it is God that decides what is best: the children of some of the most prominent people in Nigeria have ended up as charlatans, the children of nobodies have sat on the most important seats in the land. What makes the difference is the luck factor, perhaps, but life as we have seen is even far more than the luck factor. There is something extra and it is the teachers, the encounters we make in and out of our classrooms that make all the difference, the people who surround us, whose breath, whose inputs into our lives define us, the manner of our preparation. Teachers make the person. They create the universe into which we step and which we build into a personal whole.
One of them in my space just died. Mama Dawes we called her. She was a for many years a teacher at the University of Port Harcourt teaching Creative Arts alongside Ola Rotimi and others who turned the Crab Theatre into one of the most fertile, gestating grounds for many Nigerians who in later life would become star operators in the media, in advertising, political communication, public relations, drama and so on. Students of the performative arts across Nigeria knew Mama Dawes. Her students talked about her. Her colleagues respected her. In those days, every student of the dramatic arts had the opportunity of being taught by foreign experts who came to the country and willingly helped to nurture a Nigerian tradition, from Geoffrey Axworthy to Martin Banham, David Cook, to Dexter and Dani Lyndersay to Orwell Johnson, all the way down.
Mama Dawes soon showed up in my life as one of the readers and assessors of my postgraduate research. My MA thesis was sent to her and Professor Michael O’Neill then of the University of Dublin for independent assessment. Both of them came back with the verdict that the research was good enough to be awarded a Ph.D. Professor O’Neill told my supervisor, the late Professor Dapo Adelugba that he was willing to accept me as a Post-Doctoral Student almost immediately at the University of Dublin. We started processing the applications. But that didn’t go through.
This was in the days of serious minded teachers, and these ones were really serious minded. Professor Femi Osofisan, then Head of Department, and Adelugba were not the best of friends, but they always co-operated when it came to ensuring that every student got the best training possible under their care. They conspired with the external and internal examiners to push me through many extra miles, and get me onto the Ph.D programme. I was like a guinea pig. I discovered in the long run that even the Professors who had been asked to examine my MA thesis were part of the conspiracy. The day I saw the final report for the first time, signed by Professors Adelugba, Osofisan, Dan Izevbaye and Akanji Nasiru, I wept, surprised that these “wicked teachers” didn’t mean any harm after all! On Mama Dawes, here is an instructive obituary written by Dani Lyndersay who, along with another Nigerian legend, Dexter Lyndersay, was my teacher, much earlier, at the University of Calabar:
Carroll Dawes, legendary theatre director, scholar and teacher, who is generally recognised as one of the most influential and innovative theatre directors Jamaica has produced, died early on Monday[08.02.16] (on the eve of her 84th birthday) at her home in London, England, after a long illness. Her daughter, Gwyneth Dawes, was by her side. One of the early directors of studies at the Jamaica School of Drama, Dawes oversaw the building of the School of Drama at its present location, produced its first curriculum, and formed its first student company, the National Festival Theatre of Jamaica.
“A highly celebrated director of what are often cited as definitive stagings of some of the world’s greatest plays (from Shakespeare to Ibsen to Brecht) seen in Jamaica, Dawes directed critically acclaimed productions of plays by, among others, Derek Walcott, Dennis Scott, and Wole Soyinka. She left Jamaica in 1977 and relocated to Nigeria, where she taught at several universities, including Ibadan, Ile-Ife, and Calabar. She retired in 1992 and settled in England, where she lived until her passing. Dawes was born Carroll Cecily Morrison on February 3, 1932, in Hopewell, Hanover, to Cleveland Morrison, an education officer and former vice-president of the Jamaica Union of Teachers (now Jamaica Teachers’ Association), and Vivienne Maud Morrison, a teacher.
After completing her education at the St Hilda’s Diocesan High School in 1950, she won a scholarship to the newly formed University College of the West Indies. In 1955, she married Jamaican poet and novelist Neville Dawes, and the two had a daughter, Gwyneth, before their divorce in 1957. Dawes would go on to secure her Master of Fine Arts in Directing and her Doctor of Fine Arts in Theatre History at the Yale School of Drama in 1971, and even before this, had built an enviable reputation as one of the most innovative and gifted theatre artistes in Jamaica from 1950 onwards. In 1980, she was the recipient of the Institute of Jamaica’s Centenary Medal in Theatre Arts…”
It is a pity they don’t quite make teachers like that anymore. Her likes in various disciplines deserve to be identified and honoured by the Nigerian government or the various institutions they were associated with. There are so many of them, who returned to Africa to make a difference, and whose stories still need to be properly told. Mama Dawes will be greatly missed. Thank you, great teacher. May your soul find peace in the path of eternal illumination.
And so the search began, and it wasn’t long before 27-year-old mother Olajumoke ‘Jumoke Sunday’ Orisaguna was tracked down via word of mouth between locals.