English Language JAMB, WAEC, NECO AND NABTEB Official Past Questions

The land was ready and ploughed, waiting for the crops. At night, the earth was alive with insects singing and rustling about in search of food. But suddenly, by mid-November, the rain fled away: the rain-clouds fled away and left the sky bare. The sun danced dizzily in the sky, with a strange cruelty. Each day the land was covered in a haze of mist as the sun sucked up the drop of moisture out of the earth. The family set down in despair, waiting and waiting,. Their hopes had run so high; the goats has started producing milk, which they had eagerly poured on their porridge, now they ate plain porridge with no milk. It was impossible to plant the corn, maize, pumpkin and water-melon seeds in the dry earth. They sat the whole day in the shadow of the huts and even stopped thinking, for the rain had fled away. Only the children were quite happy in their little girl world. They carried on with their game of making house like their mother and chattered to each other in light, soft tones. They made children from sticks around which they tied rags, and scolded them severely in an exact imitation of their own mother. Their voices could be heard, scolding all day long: ‘You stupid thing, when I send you to draw water, why do you spill half of it out of the bucket? ‘You stupid thing! Can’t you mind the porridge pot without letting the porridge he burn? ‘Then, they would beat the rag-dolls on their bottoms with severe expressions.
The adults paid no attention to this; their nerves were stretched to breaking point waiting for the rain to fall out of the sky. Nothing was important, beyond that. All their animals had been sold during the bad years to purchase food and of all their herd only two goats were left. It was the women of the family who finally broke down under the strain of waiting for rain.

The land was ready and ploughed, waiting for the crops. At night, the earth was alive with insects singing and rustling about in search of food. But suddenly, by mid-November, the rain fled away: the rain-clouds fled away and left the sky bare. The sun danced dizzily in the sky, with a strange cruelty. Each day the land was covered in a haze of mist as the sun sucked up the drop of moisture out of the earth. The family set down in despair, waiting and waiting,. Their hopes had run so high; the goats has started producing milk, which they had eagerly poured on their porridge, now they ate plain porridge with no milk. It was impossible to plant the corn, maize, pumpkin and water-melon seeds in the dry earth. They sat the whole day in the shadow of the huts and even stopped thinking, for the rain had fled away. Only the children were quite happy in their little girl world. They carried on with their game of making house like their mother and chattered to each other in light, soft tones. They made children from sticks around which they tied rags, and scolded them severely in an exact imitation of their own mother. Their voices could be heard, scolding all day long: ‘You stupid thing, when I send you to draw water, why do you spill half of it out of the bucket? ‘You stupid thing! Can’t you mind the porridge pot without letting the porridge he burn? ‘Then, they would beat the rag-dolls on their bottoms with severe expressions.
The adults paid no attention to this; their nerves were stretched to breaking point waiting for the rain to fall out of the sky. Nothing was important, beyond that. All their animals had been sold during the bad years to purchase food and of all their herd only two goats were left. It was the women of the family who finally broke down under the strain of waiting for rain.

The land was ready and ploughed, waiting for the crops. At night, the earth was alive with insects singing and rustling about in search of food. But suddenly, by mid-November, the rain fled away: the rain-clouds fled away and left the sky bare. The sun danced dizzily in the sky, with a strange cruelty. Each day the land was covered in a haze of mist as the sun sucked up the drop of moisture out of the earth. The family set down in despair, waiting and waiting,. Their hopes had run so high; the goats has started producing milk, which they had eagerly poured on their porridge, now they ate plain porridge with no milk. It was impossible to plant the corn, maize, pumpkin and water-melon seeds in the dry earth. They sat the whole day in the shadow of the huts and even stopped thinking, for the rain had fled away. Only the children were quite happy in their little girl world. They carried on with their game of making house like their mother and chattered to each other in light, soft tones. They made children from sticks around which they tied rags, and scolded them severely in an exact imitation of their own mother. Their voices could be heard, scolding all day long: ‘You stupid thing, when I send you to draw water, why do you spill half of it out of the bucket? ‘You stupid thing! Can’t you mind the porridge pot without letting the porridge he burn? ‘Then, they would beat the rag-dolls on their bottoms with severe expressions.
The adults paid no attention to this; their nerves were stretched to breaking point waiting for the rain to fall out of the sky. Nothing was important, beyond that. All their animals had been sold during the bad years to purchase food and of all their herd only two goats were left. It was the women of the family who finally broke down under the strain of waiting for rain.

The land was ready and ploughed, waiting for the crops. At night, the earth was alive with insects singing and rustling about in search of food. But suddenly, by mid-November, the rain fled away: the rain-clouds fled away and left the sky bare. The sun danced dizzily in the sky, with a strange cruelty. Each day the land was covered in a haze of mist as the sun sucked up the drop of moisture out of the earth. The family set down in despair, waiting and waiting,. Their hopes had run so high; the goats has started producing milk, which they had eagerly poured on their porridge, now they ate plain porridge with no milk. It was impossible to plant the corn, maize, pumpkin and water-melon seeds in the dry earth. They sat the whole day in the shadow of the huts and even stopped thinking, for the rain had fled away. Only the children were quite happy in their little girl world. They carried on with their game of making house like their mother and chattered to each other in light, soft tones. They made children from sticks around which they tied rags, and scolded them severely in an exact imitation of their own mother. Their voices could be heard, scolding all day long: ‘You stupid thing, when I send you to draw water, why do you spill half of it out of the bucket? ‘You stupid thing! Can’t you mind the porridge pot without letting the porridge he burn? ‘Then, they would beat the rag-dolls on their bottoms with severe expressions.
The adults paid no attention to this; their nerves were stretched to breaking point waiting for the rain to fall out of the sky. Nothing was important, beyond that. All their animals had been sold during the bad years to purchase food and of all their herd only two goats were left. It was the women of the family who finally broke down under the strain of waiting for rain.

My good people I come before you this evening as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned. Now, the usual political thing to do when charges are levelled against you is either to ignore them or to deny them without giving details, But before I answer any of your questions, let me state categorically that I have not touched a kobo of the #50,000 we contributed. Every kobo of it has been used in defraying political campaign expenses.

As a matter of fact, during one of my ‘meet the press’ conferences, Tony Agiwa accosted me and said, ‘Honourable Senator what about this fund we hear about?’ I told him there was no secret about the fund and that he should meet Abu O. Abu to get details of the fund. I told him, ‘You will find that the purpose of the fund was primarily to defray political expenses’. In answer to another one of his questions, I said that neither contributors to this fund, nor contributors to any of my campaigns have ever received any special consideration that he would not have received as an ordinary constituent. And I can say that never, since I became a Senator, have I made a telephone call for them to an agency or have I gone down to an agency on their behalf. Records will show that, and these records are in the hands of the  Administrator.

My good people I come before you this evening as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned. Now, the usual political thing to do when charges are levelled against you is either to ignore them or to deny them without giving details, But before I answer any of your questions, let me state categorically that I have not touched a kobo of the #50,000 we contributed. Every kobo of it has been used in defraying political campaign expenses.

As a matter of fact, during one of my ‘meet the press’ conferences, Tony Agiwa accosted me and said, ‘Honourable Senator what about this fund we hear about?’ I told him there was no secret about the fund and that he should meet Abu O. Abu to get details of the fund. I told him, ‘You will find that the purpose of the fund was primarily to defray political expenses’. In answer to another one of his questions, I said that neither contributors to this fund, nor contributors to any of my campaigns have ever received any special consideration that he would not have received as an ordinary constituent. And I can say that never, since I became a Senator, have I made a telephone call for them to an agency or have I gone down to an agency on their behalf. Records will show that, and these records are in the hands of the  Administrator.

My good people I come before you this evening as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned. Now, the usual political thing to do when charges are levelled against you is either to ignore them or to deny them without giving details, But before I answer any of your questions, let me state categorically that I have not touched a kobo of the #50,000 we contributed. Every kobo of it has been used in defraying political campaign expenses.

As a matter of fact, during one of my ‘meet the press’ conferences, Tony Agiwa accosted me and said, ‘Honourable Senator what about this fund we hear about?’ I told him there was no secret about the fund and that he should meet Abu O. Abu to get details of the fund. I told him, ‘You will find that the purpose of the fund was primarily to defray political expenses’. In answer to another one of his questions, I said that neither contributors to this fund, nor contributors to any of my campaigns have ever received any special consideration that he would not have received as an ordinary constituent. And I can say that never, since I became a Senator, have I made a telephone call for them to an agency or have I gone down to an agency on their behalf. Records will show that, and these records are in the hands of the  Administrator.

My good people I come before you this evening as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned. Now, the usual political thing to do when charges are levelled against you is either to ignore them or to deny them without giving details, But before I answer any of your questions, let me state categorically that I have not touched a kobo of the #50,000 we contributed. Every kobo of it has been used in defraying political campaign expenses.

As a matter of fact, during one of my ‘meet the press’ conferences, Tony Agiwa accosted me and said, ‘Honourable Senator what about this fund we hear about?’ I told him there was no secret about the fund and that he should meet Abu O. Abu to get details of the fund. I told him, ‘You will find that the purpose of the fund was primarily to defray political expenses’. In answer to another one of his questions, I said that neither contributors to this fund, nor contributors to any of my campaigns have ever received any special consideration that he would not have received as an ordinary constituent. And I can say that never, since I became a Senator, have I made a telephone call for them to an agency or have I gone down to an agency on their behalf. Records will show that, and these records are in the hands of the  Administrator.

My good people I come before you this evening as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned. Now, the usual political thing to do when charges are levelled against you is either to ignore them or to deny them without giving details, But before I answer any of your questions, let me state categorically that I have not touched a kobo of the #50,000 we contributed. Every kobo of it has been used in defraying political campaign expenses.

As a matter of fact, during one of my ‘meet the press’ conferences, Tony Agiwa accosted me and said, ‘Honourable Senator what about this fund we hear about?’ I told him there was no secret about the fund and that he should meet Abu O. Abu to get details of the fund. I told him, ‘You will find that the purpose of the fund was primarily to defray political expenses’. In answer to another one of his questions, I said that neither contributors to this fund, nor contributors to any of my campaigns have ever received any special consideration that he would not have received as an ordinary constituent. And I can say that never, since I became a Senator, have I made a telephone call for them to an agency or have I gone down to an agency on their behalf. Records will show that, and these records are in the hands of the  Administrator.

Mathematics is the language in which the Book of Nature is written: Mathematics is the queen of the Sciences. It is universally agreed that Mathematics is the backbone of Science and Technology. For without Mathematics the engineer is but an artist or sculptor. He can build his bridge, attest to its from and beauty, but without Mathematics he cannot guarantee its reliability to serve the purpose for which it is built. Mathematics is indeed the science of sciences. It is also art of all arts. It is right, legitimate and defensible to consider Mathematics as an Art. The poet, the musician, the artist and the Mathematician have a lot in common. Fundamental to all their studies and works is their common interest in the logical study of related concepts and objects from patterns which will produce beauty, harmony and order. Thus the poet arranges words to produce a pattern called poetry: the musician arranges sounds to produce a pattern called music, the artist arranges colours to produce pattern called painting and the Mathematician arranges abstract ideas into a pattern, using symbols, to produce equations. Each of these patterns- the poem, the music, the painting and the equation must stand up to the test of some order, harmony and beauty. So if Mathematics is not an art what is art?

Mathematics is the language in which the Book of Nature is written: Mathematics is the queen of the Sciences. It is universally agreed that Mathematics is the backbone of Science and Technology. For without Mathematics the engineer is but an artist or sculptor. He can build his bridge, attest to its from and beauty, but without Mathematics he cannot guarantee its reliability to serve the purpose for which it is built. Mathematics is indeed the science of sciences. It is also art of all arts. It is right, legitimate and defensible to consider Mathematics as an Art. The poet, the musician, the artist and the Mathematician have a lot in common. Fundamental to all their studies and works is their common interest in the logical study of related concepts and objects from patterns which will produce beauty, harmony and order. Thus the poet arranges words to produce a pattern called poetry: the musician arranges sounds to produce a pattern called music, the artist arranges colours to produce pattern called painting and the Mathematician arranges abstract ideas into a pattern, using symbols, to produce equations. Each of these patterns- the poem, the music, the painting and the equation must stand up to the test of some order, harmony and beauty. So if Mathematics is not an art what is art?

Mathematics is the language in which the Book of Nature is written: Mathematics is the queen of the Sciences. It is universally agreed that Mathematics is the backbone of Science and Technology. For without Mathematics the engineer is but an artist or sculptor. He can build his bridge, attest to its from and beauty, but without Mathematics he cannot guarantee its reliability to serve the purpose for which it is built. Mathematics is indeed the science of sciences. It is also art of all arts. It is right, legitimate and defensible to consider Mathematics as an Art. The poet, the musician, the artist and the Mathematician have a lot in common. Fundamental to all their studies and works is their common interest in the logical study of related concepts and objects from patterns which will produce beauty, harmony and order. Thus the poet arranges words to produce a pattern called poetry: the musician arranges sounds to produce a pattern called music, the artist arranges colours to produce pattern called painting and the Mathematician arranges abstract ideas into a pattern, using symbols, to produce equations. Each of these patterns- the poem, the music, the painting and the equation must stand up to the test of some order, harmony and beauty. So if Mathematics is not an art what is art?

Mathematics is the language in which the Book of Nature is written: Mathematics is the queen of the Sciences. It is universally agreed that Mathematics is the backbone of Science and Technology. For without Mathematics the engineer is but an artist or sculptor. He can build his bridge, attest to its from and beauty, but without Mathematics he cannot guarantee its reliability to serve the purpose for which it is built. Mathematics is indeed the science of sciences. It is also art of all arts. It is right, legitimate and defensible to consider Mathematics as an Art. The poet, the musician, the artist and the Mathematician have a lot in common. Fundamental to all their studies and works is their common interest in the logical study of related concepts and objects from patterns which will produce beauty, harmony and order. Thus the poet arranges words to produce a pattern called poetry: the musician arranges sounds to produce a pattern called music, the artist arranges colours to produce pattern called painting and the Mathematician arranges abstract ideas into a pattern, using symbols, to produce equations. Each of these patterns- the poem, the music, the painting and the equation must stand up to the test of some order, harmony and beauty. So if Mathematics is not an art what is art?

Days passed fast for Ntanya and Teresa. They could hardly notice the land getting brown all over kachawanga again, since neither of them noticed any more the sun come up and go down. Ntanya would work very hard in the field hauling in the last harvest and Teresa would stay at home washing, cooking and waiting, waiting for him to come home. She would cook his meal with extra care and when there was little meat she would only give bits to the children and not even touch it herself but use only the smell to get her food down and reserve the whole chunk for her husband. When Ntanya would come home with sweat on his brows she would put the wooden tray on a stool for him and sit down by him watching him eat with great satisfaction: every bolus that went down Ntanya’s throat would also go down her own throat. When Ntanya would insist on sharing the food with her she would always say she had eaten already no matter how hungry she might be. Ntanya would then eat and drink to his satisfaction and rest a while in the sun after saying ‘Thank you mother’

Days passed fast for Ntanya and Teresa. They could hardly notice the land getting brown all over kachawanga again, since neither of them noticed any more the sun come up and go down. Ntanya would work very hard in the field hauling in the last harvest and Teresa would stay at home washing, cooking and waiting, waiting for him to come home. She would cook his meal with extra care and when there was little meat she would only give bits to the children and not even touch it herself but use only the smell to get her food down and reserve the whole chunk for her husband. When Ntanya would come home with sweat on his brows she would put the wooden tray on a stool for him and sit down by him watching him eat with great satisfaction: every bolus that went down Ntanya’s throat would also go down her own throat. When Ntanya would insist on sharing the food with her she would always say she had eaten already no matter how hungry she might be. Ntanya would then eat and drink to his satisfaction and rest a while in the sun after saying ‘Thank you mother’

Days passed fast for Ntanya and Teresa. They could hardly notice the land getting brown all over kachawanga again, since neither of them noticed any more the sun come up and go down. Ntanya would work very hard in the field hauling in the last harvest and Teresa would stay at home washing, cooking and waiting, waiting for him to come home. She would cook his meal with extra care and when there was little meat she would only give bits to the children and not even touch it herself but use only the smell to get her food down and reserve the whole chunk for her husband. When Ntanya would come home with sweat on his brows she would put the wooden tray on a stool for him and sit down by him watching him eat with great satisfaction: every bolus that went down Ntanya’s throat would also go down her own throat. When Ntanya would insist on sharing the food with her she would always say she had eaten already no matter how hungry she might be. Ntanya would then eat and drink to his satisfaction and rest a while in the sun after saying ‘Thank you mother’

Days passed fast for Ntanya and Teresa. They could hardly notice the land getting brown all over kachawanga again, since neither of them noticed any more the sun come up and go down. Ntanya would work very hard in the field hauling in the last harvest and Teresa would stay at home washing, cooking and waiting, waiting for him to come home. She would cook his meal with extra care and when there was little meat she would only give bits to the children and not even touch it herself but use only the smell to get her food down and reserve the whole chunk for her husband. When Ntanya would come home with sweat on his brows she would put the wooden tray on a stool for him and sit down by him watching him eat with great satisfaction: every bolus that went down Ntanya’s throat would also go down her own throat. When Ntanya would insist on sharing the food with her she would always say she had eaten already no matter how hungry she might be. Ntanya would then eat and drink to his satisfaction and rest a while in the sun after saying ‘Thank you mother’

Days passed fast for Ntanya and Teresa. They could hardly notice the land getting brown all over kachawanga again, since neither of them noticed any more the sun come up and go down. Ntanya would work very hard in the field hauling in the last harvest and Teresa would stay at home washing, cooking and waiting, waiting for him to come home. She would cook his meal with extra care and when there was little meat she would only give bits to the children and not even touch it herself but use only the smell to get her food down and reserve the whole chunk for her husband. When Ntanya would come home with sweat on his brows she would put the wooden tray on a stool for him and sit down by him watching him eat with great satisfaction: every bolus that went down Ntanya’s throat would also go down her own throat. When Ntanya would insist on sharing the food with her she would always say she had eaten already no matter how hungry she might be. Ntanya would then eat and drink to his satisfaction and rest a while in the sun after saying ‘Thank you mother’

Read each passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.
Obi: Let’s go to the Sport Club Cafeteria. One naira
per meal is a privilege in this country.
And God knows that I am too broke to afford
anything More

Olu: Got a membership identity card? Don’t forget
the place is for bona fide members
only.

Obi: Forget it. There are other types of
identity cards, remember. Just flash
something before the eyes of those men at the
gate, provided it looks like an identity card.

Olu: Ee…eh, I see. That is why the place is
always congested. I don’t think it
is even worth the trouble. I can’t stand a
queue.
Obi: That shouldn’t bother you. You don’t have to
join the queue. Just walk
straight to the serving point without fear
and be sure you shout your
order.
Olu: But only V.I.Ps have the right to break
queues.
Obi: Sure, but V.I Ps don’t wear badges on their
faces. Post man, pose. After
all this is Nigeria
olu: You mean there are many impostors here?
Obi: Certainly, and many people with privileges
too. If you want to get
along, you must pose, and to get along
means getting what you want
If you choose to term it ‘privileges, it
suits me. It is all a question of
semantics.

Read each passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.
Obi: Let’s go to the Sport Club Cafeteria. One naira
per meal is a privilege in this country.
And God knows that I am too broke to afford
anything More

Olu: Got a membership identity card? Don’t forget
the place is for bona fide members
only.

Obi: Forget it. There are other types of
identity cards, remember. Just flash
something before the eyes of those men at the
gate, provided it looks like an identity card.

Olu: Ee…eh, I see. That is why the place is
always congested. I don’t think it
is even worth the trouble. I can’t stand a
queue.
Obi: That shouldn’t bother you. You don’t have to
join the queue. Just walk
straight to the serving point without fear
and be sure you shout your
order.
Olu: But only V.I.Ps have the right to break
queues.
Obi: Sure, but V.I Ps don’t wear badges on their
faces. Post man, pose. After
all this is Nigeria
olu: You mean there are many impostors here?
Obi: Certainly, and many people with privileges
too. If you want to get
along, you must pose, and to get along
means getting what you want
If you choose to term it ‘privileges, it
suits me. It is all a question of
semantics.

Read each passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.
Obi: Let’s go to the Sport Club Cafeteria. One naira
per meal is a privilege in this country.
And God knows that I am too broke to afford
anything More

Olu: Got a membership identity card? Don’t forget
the place is for bona fide members
only.

Obi: Forget it. There are other types of
identity cards, remember. Just flash
something before the eyes of those men at the
gate, provided it looks like an identity card.

Olu: Ee…eh, I see. That is why the place is
always congested. I don’t think it
is even worth the trouble. I can’t stand a
queue.
Obi: That shouldn’t bother you. You don’t have to
join the queue. Just walk
straight to the serving point without fear
and be sure you shout your
order.
Olu: But only V.I.Ps have the right to break
queues.
Obi: Sure, but V.I Ps don’t wear badges on their
faces. Post man, pose. After
all this is Nigeria
olu: You mean there are many impostors here?
Obi: Certainly, and many people with privileges
too. If you want to get
along, you must pose, and to get along
means getting what you want
If you choose to term it ‘privileges, it
suits me. It is all a question of
semantics.