WEN’S SUICIDE PREVENTION CAMPAIGN

INFORM YOUR LOVED ONES OF A LOOMING AFRICAN GENOCIDE AND THE NEED TO PREVENT

HISTORY FROM HAPPENING AGAIN

Be aware! What Goes on Africa Can Spill Over to America!

Bruce Mayrock, who the family claimed was deeply upset about the killings of Biafrans and had believed that no one was listening to nor doing anything to help them, left an inscription on a cardboard, which was found near him where he collapsed, after being chased around by fire extinguisher-wielding UN Security Guards, read: “You must stop Genocide. Please save 9 million Biafrans”

That’s why given that WEN’s vision is to build upon the core values of our ancestors to address our socio-economic causes, we, at the organization, are drawing the attention of parents to forestall a recurrence of this type of tragedy simply because this event is repeating itself in Nigeria today and pictures of systematic killings and burnings of the Igbos and their churches in Northern Nigeria, and recent slain Igbo youth at the hands of Nigerian’s brutal military has gone viral on social media.

Since the world media seem to be apathetic to the killings in Igboland of Nigeria, we deem it necessary to forewarn parents to be mindful of what is trending in social media with respect to these killings and have parents advice their children not to seek exposure by killing themselves in like manner. If it were at all possible, we encourage parents to ensure their children’s devices have the necessary parental controls.

In this age of instant news through the social media,

such as Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, WhatsApp, etc., it is instructive that, we, in the global community be aware that there might be copycats of the 1969 tragedy. This letter; therefore, serves as a word of caution, which will be made available to various types of schools, private and public workplaces, as well as on the social media.

The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. On her way she met a copy. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand time.

Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. But nothing the copy said could convince her and so it didn’t take long until a few insidious Copy Writers ambushed her, made her drunk with Longe and Parole and dragged her into their agency, where they abused her for their projects again and again. And if she hasn’t been rewritten, then they are still using her.Far far away.

A wonderful serenity has taken possession of my entire soul, like these sweet mornings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart. I am alone, and feel the charm of existence in this spot, which was created for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so happy, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquisite sense of mere tranquil.

I should be incapable of drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I never was a greater artist than now. When, while the lovely valley teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanctuary, I throw myself down among the tall grass by the trickling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth, a thousand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of the little world among the stalks, and grow familiar with the countless indescribable forms of the insects and flies, then I feel the presence of the Almighty, who formed us in his own image, and the breath of that universal love which bears and sustains us.

A wonderful serenity has taken possession of my entire soul, like these sweet mornings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart. I am alone, and feel the charm of existence in this spot, which was created for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so happy, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquisite sense of mere tranquil.

I should be incapable of drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I never was a greater artist than now. When, while the lovely valley teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanctuary, I throw myself down among the tall grass by the trickling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth, a thousand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of the little world among the stalks, and grow familiar with the countless indescribable forms of the insects and flies, then I feel the presence of the Almighty, who formed us in his own image, and the breath of that universal love which bears and sustains us.