Snus (/ˈsnuːs/; Swedish pronunciation: [snʉːs]) is a moist powder tobacco product originating from a variant of dry snuff in early 18th-century Sweden. It is placed under the upper lip for extended periods. Snus is not fermented and contains no added sugar. Although used similarly to American dipping tobacco, snus does not typically result in the need for spitting and, unlike naswar, snus is steam-pasteurized.
The sale of snus is illegal in the European Union (except for Sweden, where it is legal), Belarus, and Russia. Local varieties of snus, growing in popularity in the United States, have been seen as an alternative to smoking, chewing, and dipping tobacco. However, as US-manufactured snus does not have the same production standards or ingredients as Swedish snus (the use of significant amounts of sugar in US products being one major difference), some believe that it should not be called "snus."
In the 16th century, snuff (pulverized tobacco), the precursor of snus (moist snuff), was introduced to France by French diplomat Jean Nicot, who worked at the court of King Henry II of France. He recommended snuff to Catherine de' Medici as a migraine remedy. When she became a regular user of snuff, it became a fashion among the court and upper class citizens of France, especially among females, as it was deemed more socially acceptable than other forms of tobacco.
The Swaziland National Union of Students is a membership-based organisation of students in all higher institutions of learning in Swaziland. It seeks to create a student movement and geared to confront the socio economic and political challenges of the country. The organisation also advocates an education policy that is informed by the economic demands faced by the country and the democratisation of Swazi society.
The Union's President, Njabulo Mazibuko, was elected in November 2014.
I'll hold my heart and cry with my faith
Forgotten, From destiny by my pain
The only sin that has no birth
Her beauty has gone, Left burning brains
Stealing the sound of hopeless creation
Feeding their pain with a frozen stone
That punches the blood of impure imagination
With the black rose of sepulcher cone
The roots of dark are on her grave
The sins of perdition are on her waves
The story of death is on her nave
Shall blaze tonight in a choky cave
Her beauty, Her skin, Her eyes, Her lips