@PatrickRugaba @hrw @HRF @amnesty @LantosFndn @UNHumanRights This is a porn actor. She willingly went there and started acting porn. We have evidence. Her name is Noleen Norubega aka Lexi Luv
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Weissmann
10.1K posts
Weissmann
@Weissmann96
Developer and Vibe Coding
Nairobi, Kenya انضم Aralık 2018
3.8K يتبع4.2K المتابعون
A Rwandan woman reported being a victim of human trafficking, yet her cries for justice have allegedly been ignored by the authorities. Every victim deserves to be heard, protected, and treated with dignity.
#EndHumanTrafficking
@hrw @HRF @amnesty @LantosFndn @UNHumanRights @UN_Women @UN_HRC
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Yaani the impeached Sonko who used to drug and sodomise MCAs in Nairobi is someone to take seriously?
He will continue to run mad and it shows in how desperate he is to have convoys even when he has been impeached.
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@Wagmi_forever @elonmusk your farm and forest animals mean nothing to me
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@Naomikibandi Kuna ngombe ya kikale inaamini hii ujinga. Sad sana
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George Ruto-There are times huwa nasota mpaka nakosa bundles.
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@Kalshi_Finance Some things happening in this Trump era are just unreal lol
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BREAKING: SpaceX reached a $3 trillion valuation in after-hours trading
The company's revenue in 2025 was $18.7 billion
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Work hard until your doubters start asking for advice.
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BREAKING: Trump says 'if it weren't for the United States of America' then 'Israel would not exist right now'
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Private Carlton Barrett was possibly the smallest man in his regiment.
5 feet 4 inches tall. 125 pounds.
On the morning of June 6, 1944, he landed at Omaha Beach in neck-deep water, machine gun fire cutting the surface all around him. He made it to shore.
Then he turned around and went back in.
A soldier was drowning. Barrett pulled him out. Then another. Then another. For hours, under constant fire, this 125-pound man waded back into the surf again and again, pulling drowning men to safety and physically carrying the wounded to evacuation boats offshore.
But he didn't stop there.
He ran dispatches the full length of the fire-swept beach. He found soldiers paralyzed by shock and calmed them back into action. He appeared wherever the crisis was worst, doing whatever needed doing, treating rank and personal safety as irrelevant details.
He did this for hours without stopping.
His Medal of Honor citation says his courage had "an inestimable effect on his comrades." That is military understatement for: this small, anonymous man held that section of beach together through sheer force of will.
He survived the war.
His comrades later said his life darkened after he came home. He lived quietly and died in 1986 in California, largely unknown outside of military history circles.
5 feet 4 inches. 125 pounds. He went back in.
Remember him.
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@KijanayaKabras Should we start celebrating? Ju wueh nezapiga sherehe kubwa sana. This guy is the one paying goons to terrorize the country and 2027 chaos will be half solved if he dies. Mungu baba chukua huyu @kipmurkomen
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The Dyatlov Pass Incident
They never came back alive. A story of 1959 trainedz young hikers incident who went for a hike and never came back.
When rescuers finally reached their campsite, something immediately felt wrong. The tent was still there..but it had been torn open from the inside. Not cut carefully. Not opened. Ripped apart from within, as if whatever was inside panicked so badly it chose the freezing night over staying put.
Footprints led away into the snow. Bare feet. Some were half-dressed. No logical survival gear, no direction, no cohesion, just scattered paths into darkness and subzero wind.
And then the bodies started appearing.
Some were found beneath trees, as if they had tried to climb for shelter and simply… stopped. Others were deeper in the forest, far from the camp, in conditions so brutal that even survival instincts should have failed long before they reached that distance. A few had injuries that didn’t match any known accident...crushed force, internal damage, but no obvious external trauma.
It was as if something had hit them, but left no clear signature of what.
The strangest part wasn’t just the deaths, it was the confusion they left behind. No struggle at the tent. No organized escape. No clear enemy. Just sudden, absolute chaos in one of the most remote, silent places on Earth.
Even today, theories try to fill the gap: avalanche, military testing, rare natural forces. But none of them fully explain the terror in that final decisio, to tear open a shelter from the inside and run barefoot into a frozen mountain night.
And that’s what makes it stick in your mind.
Because whatever happened there… it didn’t just kill them.
It made them leave the only place that was keeping them alive.
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Amityville House
In 1974, the house became the scene of a brutal family murder. The kind of event that stains a place so deeply people later swear the air feels different when they stand too long in one spot.
A year later, another family moved in. At first, everything seemed normal—just settling noises, old-house groans, the usual discomfort of a new place.
Then the details started piling up.
Doors that weren’t left open were suddenly wide ajar. Cold drafts would move through locked rooms like something passing through them. A strange smell would appear in the hallway and vanish without explanation. The family began waking up at the same hour every night—exactly 3:15 a.m.—without alarms, without reason, just a feeling that something had pulled them awake.
And then there were the moments they didn’t talk about loudly. Standing in a doorway and feeling like the room was already occupied. Hearing movement where no one should be. Seeing the house at night, in total darkness, feeling less like a building and more like something watching back.
They left after just 28 days.
Even now, people still argue about what was real and what wasn’t. But the house remains the same on the outside quiet, ordinary, unchanged.
And that’s the part that lingers.
Because if nothing happened there… then why did everyone who stayed long enough feel like something was waiting for them too?
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At 75 miles per hour, Casey Jones saw three red lights materialize in the fog. Ahead of Locomotive 382 was a stopped freight train, positioned squarely on the main line.
In the cab, it was 3:52 a.m. on April 30, 1900. Heavy rain was pouring, the tracks slippery, visibility almost zero. Behind him, a hundred passengers slept, unaware they were seconds away from death.
Casey was famous on the Illinois Central Railroad: tall, precise, fast, capable of squeezing every horsepower from a locomotive. That night, he was racing to catch up, and Locomotive 382 was at its limit. Beside him, stoker Sim Webb stoked the furnace tirelessly. They worked as one.
Then, the Vaughan Curve revealed the disaster. Sim saw the lights and screamed. Casey understood immediately: at that speed, with heavy cars and wet tracks, the impact would destroy everything. The wooden carriages would have been crushed, the passengers would have died instantly.
In that moment, the choice was simple and terrible: jump and save themselves, or stay and try to slow down enough to give those sleeping in the back a chance.
Casey stayed.
He applied the emergency brakes, reversed the train to turn the wheels against the train's forward motion, and ordered Sim to jump. Sim obeyed and leaped into the darkness. Casey, however, remained with one hand on the brake lever and the other on the whistle, warning anyone near the freight train.
The 382 struck the rear car and crumpled against the wagons loaded with corn and hay. The noise was enormous. When rescuers arrived, they found the passenger cars still standing. The passengers were injured, frightened, but alive. No one was dead.
Then they reached the locomotive. Casey was still in his seat, one hand on the whistle rope, the other on the brake lever. He had slowed from seventy-five to thirty-five miles per hour: enough to transform a massacre into a survivable collision.
He was the only victim.
He was thirty-seven years old, with a wife and three children. His funeral attracted thousands of people. Within weeks, a ballad was born that spread across America, transforming him into a legend. But behind the legend was a simple fact: in two seconds, Casey Jones chose to die to save one hundred strangers.
Today, the whistle of the 382 is preserved in a museum in Jackson, Tennessee. The bell is on display outside. The twisted remains of the locomotive are still visible. But the true memory lies elsewhere: in the lives of the descendants of those passengers, people who exist because one man decided to stay at the controls instead of jumping.
Casey Jones was not a hero by accident. He became one because, when the time came, he chose others. And he didn't let go of the lever, not even in the final moment.
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Scary!
Having settled into her new residence and satisfied with her accommodation, one evening, while watching a true crime documentary on serial killers on television, she had a shocking revelation. The house she moved into was the same one shown in the images of the documentary, at the time owned by Maury Travis, a waiter convicted of the murder of seventeen women although there are supposedly more than twenty victims, some still alive today. not identified. The house had remained as it was during the period in which the man had tortured and killed those women in the area, the wooden dining table that Travis had used to torture and mutilate had been left intact and in the same place, also visible in the footage and in the photos that Travis himself took of his murderous actions, just as the basement where Travis used to tie women to a beam was left exactly as it was at the time of the events. Upon discovering the history of the house, McGhaw asked the owner Sandra Travis, the serial killer's mother, to terminate the contract but was unsuccessful. She appealed to the state offices of St. Louis and later managed to get rid of the house and move elsewhere. In the United States, most states have a law that requires landlords to disclose to prospective tenants if a violent crime has been committed in the home.
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In March 1945, during World War II, the Japanese army executed several French engineers and civilians, whose graves are now located in the military square of the Poissy cemetery.
A year later, on March 21, 1946, the town of Thakhek, Laos, was reportedly the site of a massacre perpetrated by the French army. After retaking the city from Vietminh-backed Pathet Lao communist fighters, French forces reportedly killed between 1,500 and 3,000 civilians, mostly Vietnamese. According to Laotian reports, many of these victims were thrown into a well.
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Good morning Kenyans.
Just a reminder that William Samoei Arap Ruto. Whose X account is @WilliamsRuto and his humble wife is @MamaRachelRuto , his useless ugly daughter @charlruto is a ONE TERM hypocritical president of Kenya.
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