T̲h̲e̲ b̲i̲g̲g̲e̲s̲t̲ b̲u̲b̲b̲l̲e̲ i̲n̲ 8̲0̲0̲ y̲e̲a̲r̲s̲ 💥

“𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨… 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘮𝘺” — 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘬 [Main logotype Expert Modern Advice](   Dear Reader, I wish this message was bringing brighter news… But after years of sitting on the sidelines, watching, I can't wait another minute. In perhaps the most shocking betrayal of the American public in history… the Federal Reserve, the Treasury, the FDIC… even Washington itself… has set into motion an [economic 'Endgame']( for Main Street Americans. And it starts with what the Ваnk of England has dubbed the largest bubble in 800 years. Meaning we haven't seen something of this caliber since the Black Death was rampant… wiping out a third of Europe's population. Unfortunately, the media is trying to downplay the crisis… But [aІІ my research]( shows we're looking at a 💲16 trіllіоn blow to household wealth over the next 12-24 months… A tripling of unemployment… Skyrocketing food prісеs… And a string of personal and corporate bankruptcies unlike any we've seen since the 2008 crisis. In fact, bankruptcies have already hit a 12 year high… and consumer dеbt has hit an aІІ-time high period. The Endgame is in motion… But there is a way through. We've identified [three particular 'impact zones']( Americans can reinforce right nоw to secure themselves against the Endgame crisis. I've laid out the full story of what's happening… why it will worsen… and how to insulate yourself against the incoming mayhem at this link hеrе. Feel free to share this with friends, family, and loved ones. I believe time is of the essence - especially as investors are lulled into a sense of safety with a Fed fueled bear rally. [СІісk thіs lіnk hеrе nоw to see EXACTLY what's going on...]( To your fіnаnсіаl suссеss, You must be waiting for somebody, Olanna said to him in Igbo. Yes, nwanne m, my brother is coming back from overseas after four years reading t. His Owerri dialect had a strong rural accent. Eh! Olanna said. She wanted to ask him w exactly his brother was coming back from and what he had studied, but she didn’t. He might not k. The grandmother turned to Olanna. He is the first in our village to go overseas, and our people have prepared a dance for him. The dance troupe will meet us in Ikeduru. She smiled proudly to show brown teeth. Her accent was even thicker; it was difficult to make out everything she said. My fellow women are jealous, but is it my fault that their sons have empty brains and my own son the white people’s scholarship? Another flight arrival was announced and the father said, C! It’s him? It’s him! The children stood up and the father asked them to sit down and then stood up himself. The grandmother clutched her handbag to her belly. Olanna watched the plane descend. It touched down, and just as it began to taxi on the tarmac, the grandmother screamed and dropped her handbag. Olanna was startled. What is it? What is it? Mama! the father said. Why does it not ? The grandmother asked, both hands placed on her head in despair. Chi m! My God! I am in trouble! W is it taking my son ? Have you people deceived me? Mama, it will , Olanna said. This is what it does when it lands. She picked up the handbag and then took the older used hand in hers. It will , she said again. She didn’t let go until the plane ped and the grandmother slipped her hand away and muttered something about foolish people who could not build planes well. Olanna watched the family hurry to the arrivals gate. As she walked toward her own gate minutes later, she looked back often, hoping to catch a glimpse of the son from overseas. But she didn’t. Her flight was bumpy. The man seated next to her was eating bitter kola, crunching loudly, and when he turned to make conversation she slowly shifted away until she was pressed against the airplane w. I just have to tell you, you are so beautiful, he said. She smiled and said thank you and kept her eyes on her spaper. O denigbo would be amused when she told him about this man, the way he always laughed at her admirers, with his unquestioning confidence. It was what had first attracted her to him that June day two years ago in Ibadan, the kind of rainy day that wore the indigo color of dusk although it was noon. She was on holiday from England. She was in a relationship with Mohammed. She did not notice Odenigbo at first, standing ahead of her in line to a ticket outside the university theater. She might have noticed him if a white man with silver hair had not stood behind her and if the ticket seller had not signaled to the white man to come forward. Let me help you , sir, the ticket seller said, in that comiy contrived white accent that uneducated people liked to put on. Olanna was annoyed but mildly, because she k the line moved anyway. So she was surprised at the outburst that followed, from a man wearing a brown safari suit and clutching a book: Odenigbo. He walked up to the front, escorted the white man back into the line and then shouted at the ticket seller. You miserable ignoramus! You see a white person and he looks better than your own people? You must apologize to everybody in this line! Right ! Olanna had stared at him, at the arch of his eyebrows behind the glasses, the thickness of his body, already thinking of the least hurtful way to untangle herself from Mohammed. Perhaps she would have kn that Odenigbo was different, even if he had not spoken; his haircut alone said it, standing up in a high halo. But t was an unmistakable grooming about him, too; he was not one of those who used untidiness to substantiate their radicalism. She smiled and said Well done! as he walked past her, and it was the boldest thing she had ever done, the first time she had demanded attention from a man. He ped and introduced himself. My is Odenigbo. I’m Olanna, she said and later, she would tell him that t had been a crackling magic in the air and he would tell her that his desire at that moment was so intense that his groin ached. When she finy felt that desire, she was surprised above everything else. She did not k that a man’s thrusts could suspend memory, that it was possible to be poised in a place w she could not think or remember but feel. The intensity had not abated after two years, nor had her awe at his self-assured eccentricities and his fierce moralities. But she feared that this was because theirs was a relationship consumed in sips: She saw him when she came on holiday; they wrote to each other; they talked on the . that she was back in Nigeria they would live toher, and she did not understand how he could not show some uncertainty. He was too sure. She looked out at the clouds outside her dow, smoky thickets drifting by, and thought how fragile they were. Olanna had not wanted to have dinner with her parents, especiy since they had invited Chief Okonji. But her mother came into her room to ask her to join them; it was not every day that they hosted the minister, and this dinner was even more important because of the building contract her father wanted. Biko, wear something nice. Kainene will be dressing up too, her mother had added, as if mentioning her t sister somehow legitimized everything. , Olanna smoothed the napkin on her lap and smiled at the steward placing a plate of halved avocado next to her. His white uni was starched so stiff his trousers looked as if they had been made out of cardboard. Thank you, Maxwell, she said. Yes, aunty, Maxwell mumbled, and moved on with his tray. Olanna looked around the table. Her parents were focused on Chief Okonji, nodding eagerly as he told a story about a recent meeting with Prime Minister Balewa. Kainene was inspecting her plate with that arch expression of hers, as if she were mocking the avocado. None of them thanked Maxwell. Olanna wished they would; it was such a simple thing to do, to ackledge the ity of the people who served them. She had suggested it once; her father said he paid them good salaries, and her mother said thanking them would give them room to be insulting, while Kainene, as usual, said nothing, a bored expression on her face. This is avocado I have tasted in a long time, Chief Okonji said. It is from one of our farms, her mother said. The one near Asaba. I’ll have the steward put some in a bag , her father said. Excellent, Chief Okonji said. Olanna, I hope you are enjoying yours, eh? You’ve been staring at it as if it is something that bites. He laughed, an over-hearty guffaw, and her parents promptly laughed as well. It’s very good. Olanna looked up. T was something wet about Chief Okonji’s smile. Last week, when he thrust his card into her hand at the Ikoyi Club, she had worried about that smile because it looked as if the movement of his lips made saliva fill his mouth and threaten to trickle down his chin. I hope you’ve thought about coming to join us at the ministry, Olanna. We need first-class brains like yours, Chief Okonji said. How many people ed jobs persony from the minister, her mother said, to nobody in particular, and her smile lit up the oval dark-skinned face that was so nearly , so symmetrical, that friends ed her Art. Olanna placed her spoon down. I’ve decided to go to Nsukka. I’ll be leaving in two weeks. She saw the way her father tightened his lips. Her mother left her hand suspended in the air a moment, as if the s were too tragic to continue sprinkling salt. I thought you had not made up your mind, her mother said. I can’t waste too much time or they will it to somebody else, Olanna said. Nsukka? Is that right? You’ve decided to move to Nsukka? Chief Okonji asked. Yes. I applied for a job as instructor in the Department of Sociology and I just got it, Olanna said. She usuy liked her avocado without salt, but it was bland , almost nauseating. Oh. So you’re leaving us in Lagos, Chief Okonji said. His face seemed to melt, folding in on itself. Then he turned and asked, too brightly, And what about you, Kainene? Kainene looked Chief Okonji right in the eyes, with that stare that was so expressionless, so blank, that it was almost hostile. What about me indeed? She raised her eyebrows. I too will be putting my ly acquired degree to good use. I’m moving to Port Harcourt to manage Daddy’s businesses t. Olanna wished she still had those flashes, moments when she could tell what Kainene was thinking. When they were in primary school, they sometimes looked at each other and laughed, without speaking, because they were thinking the same joke. She doubted that Kainene ever had those flashes , since they talked about such things anymore. They talked about anything anymore. So Kainene will manage the cement factory? Chief Okonji asked, turning to her father. She’ll oversee everything in the east, the factories and our oil interests. She has always had an excellent eye for business. Whoever said you lost out by having t daughters is a liar, Chief Okonji said. Kainene is not just like a son, she is like two, her father said. He glanced at Kainene and Kainene looked away, as if the pride on his face did not matter, and Olanna quickly focused on her plate so that neither would k she had been watching them. The plate was elegant, light green, the same color as the avocado. Why don’t you come to my house this weekend, eh? Chief Okonji asked. If to my cook’s fish pepper soup. The chap is from Nembe; he ks what to do with fresh fish. Her parents cackled loudly. Olanna was not sure how that was funny, but then it was the minister’s joke. That sounds derful, Olanna’s father said. It will be nice for of us to go before Olanna s for Nsukka, her mother said. Olanna felt a slight irritation, a prickly feeling on her skin. I would love to come, but I ’t be this weekend. You ’t be ?? ?? her father asked. She dered if the expression in his eyes was a desperate plea. She dered, too, how her parents had promised Chief Okonji an affair with her in exchange for the contract. Had they stated it verby, plainly, or had it been implied? I have made plans to go to Kano, to see Uncle Mbaezi and the family, and Mohammed as well, she said. Her father stabbed at his avocado. I see. Olanna sipped her water and said nothing. After dinner, they moved to the balcony for liqueurs. Olanna liked this after-dinner ritual and often would move away from her parents and the guests to stand by the railing, looking at the t lamps that lit up the paths below, so bright that the swimming pool looked silver and the hibiscuses and bougainvillea took on an incandescent patina over their reds and pinks. The first and time Odenigbo visited her in Lagos, they had stood looking down at the swimming pool and Odenigbo threw a bottle cork down and watched it plunk into the water. He drank a lot of brandy, and when her father said that the idea of Nsukka University was silly, that Nigeria was not ready for an indigenous university and that receiving support from an American university—rather than a proper university in Britain—was plain daft, he raised his voice in response. Olanna had thought he would realize that her father wanted to g him and show how unimpressed he was by a senior lecturer from Nsukka. She thought he would let her father’s words go. But his voice rose higher and higher as he argued about Nsukka’s being of colonial influence, and she had blinked often to signal him to , although he may not have noticed since the veranda was dim. Finy the rang and the conversation had to end. The look in her parents’ eyes was grudging respect, Olanna could tell, but it did not them from telling her that Odenigbo was crazy and wrong for her, one of those hotheaded university people who talked and talked until everybody had a headache and nobody understood what had been said. Such a cool night, Chief Okonji said behind her. Olanna turned around. She did not k when her parents and Kainene had gone inside. Yes, she said. Chief Okonji stood in front of her. His agbada was embroidered with thread around the collar. She looked at his neck, settled into rolls of fat, and imagined him prying the folds apart as he bathed. What about tomorrow? T’s a cocktail party at Ikoyi Hotel, he said. I want of you to meet some expatriates. They are looking for land and I can arrange for them to from your father at five or six times the . I will be doing a St. Vincent de Paul charity drive tomorrow. Mark Rossano [image in footer dar devider] [small logotype footer Expert Modern Advice]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide individualized fіnancіal advіse. This email is not financial advice and any іnvestment decіsіon you make is solely your responsibility. Feel frее to contact us toll frее Domestic/International: +17072979173 Mon–Fri, 9am–5pm ET, or email us support@expertmodernadvice.com. [Unsubscrіbe]( to stop receiving marketing communication from us. 600 N Broad St Ste 5 PMB 1 Middletown, DE 19709 2023 Inception Media, LLC. AII rights reserved [Unsubscribe]( [Privacy Policy](