The Day I Became a Lawyer (Alone, Outside the Supreme Court)

I remember the exact moment it dawned on me that I had become a lawyer.

I was standing outside the Supreme Court in Abuja, still processing what had just happened. I was 22 years old. And I was completely alone.

Let me back up a bit.

I had just come from the Call to Bar ceremony. The pageantry, the photos in our wigs and gowns. Everyone was excited. I was excited too, but not about the ceremony itself. I was excited about what came next.

Because here is what most people do not know: the ceremony is just theater. The real moment you become a lawyer in Nigeria is when you run, literally run, to the Supreme Court to get your name enrolled in this ancient book. That is when it becomes official.

So there I was at the Supreme Court, watching my colleagues arrive with their families. Mothers beaming with pride. Fathers taking photos. Siblings cheering. Everyone had someone.

I was alone.

Not because I did not have people who loved me. My mum had begged me to let her come. But I told her no. I was worried about her traveling on Nigerian roads. I wanted her safe more than I wanted her there.

I walked into the Supreme Court and joined the queue. After what felt like forever, it was finally my turn. I approached the desk, filled out my name in that ancient enrollment book.

Then the attendant looked up at me, smiled, and said: "You can leave."

If you are Nigerian, you understand my confusion. There is always something else. "Oh, you need to go to this office." "You have not paid this fee yet." "Come back tomorrow." "You need one more signature."

But she just smiled again. "That is all. You are a lawyer now."

I walked out of that Supreme Court in a daze.

Seven years. Seven years of school, uni, COVID, law school, exams, sleepless nights, doubt, fear, determination. Seven years of wondering if I would make it. Seven years of sacrifice.

And it all came down to one moment. One signature. One name in an ancient book.

I stood outside, alone, and let it sink in.

I am a lawyer.

It felt surreal. It felt anticlimactic. It felt everything.

I was 22 years old, standing alone outside the Supreme Court of Nigeria, and I was proud of myself. So incredibly proud.

Not because of the title. Not because of the ceremony. But because I had done it. Against all odds, through all the challenges, I had become exactly who I set out to be.

I am a lawyer. And I am proud of myself.