THE JOURNEY TO JUSTICE

"So, why do you want to become a Lawyer?" the only female on the panel asked. Her demeanor askance, her tone firm and inquisitive. It seemed like my admission into the prestigious faculty of Law would be determined by my response. There wasn't enough time to think of a response. I had almost been intimidated from attempting the first post-UME in my country at my first choice University, because of how young I was. I had only clocked 16 some months prior. I met a mammoth crowd at the Faculty of Law building and the adjourning car park. I had seen men and ladies old enough to be my parents in the queue, longing for the same outcome with me "admission". I had eavesdropped needlessly into conversations by former Diploma in Law Students who were now UME prospects. I wish I hadn't, because the little courage I had left, all but vanished. I admired their neat black suits, crisp white shirts, matching black ties and shiny black shoes. I fell helplessly in love with the way they punctuated every sentence with some Latin maxim. Boy! was I intimidated? There wasn't enough time to reflect on the glamorous regalia I had seen the Chief Justice of Nigeria wear at inauguration ceremonies. I did not remember the many advocates whose mastery of oral submissions and arguments had made a disciple and loyal fan of me. I had overcome too many scary stories intended to dissuade me from being a Lawyer. Things like, "Man, but do you know they bury Lawyers upside down?", some more religious folk I met even theorized that Lawyers could never make it to heaven, reason for the upside-down burial. I was not sure the reason, but one thing I was sure of was that this boy was very much alive and had no plans of dying soon, why should he care how they bury him. Seeing I was adamant, some relatives had lost hope on convincing me and tagged me "stubborn". My dad, on the other hand was a fan of the idea, and so was my mom. That was enough.

I wished I could say I had a predetermined answer, unfortunately I didn't. I am not sure I took long enough a moment to ponder before responding in the most formal tone I could muster "to ensure justice is given to all and sundry".

Could it be the muse in me coming to the rescue? Could it be my unconscious mind taking over with pre-loaded responses I didn't even know existed in my hard disk? Well, whatever it was, it seemed the answer was fitting, because months later, my name was published alongside other admitted candidates in some national newspaper.

The answer might have been a natural consequence of my indignation towards injustice, the resentment I have always had towards oppression, and the subtle thoughts of a utopic society I had romanticized. Whatever the case, I found out with time that a coward's response is often to ponder till the will to challenge the status quo is smothered by indifference.

More than a decade later, my musings still betray me. I wonder, have I helped any if not all and sundry get justice?