There were few things in life that terrified Ms. Bunmi, and standing before a law court is definitely one of them. It did not matter if she was the plaintiff or defendant, a witness or an observer, or if she had hired the country’s best law firm. She often requested for an out-of-court settlement, if it were possible. She preferred a group of delegated family members sitting down to iron out things – whatever the issues were – to the rigorous, stretched-out procedures of a Nigerian law court.
However, for some strange reason, it seemed like a sizeable chunk of her life was made to be spent in Nigerian courts. No, she didn’t study law in the university, she consciously steered away from that career path to the utter dismay of her parents and their relatives. Ms. Bunmi was certainly a bright child, precocious even, with the instinct of the old. Her first experience in a law court was in her teenage years. A land dispute between her family and that of the Olorundas had occurred with both parties laying ancient claims to the 17-plot land.
Amidst the accusations, counter accusations and finger pointing, what stood out was how each lawyer took their time to tear apart the lives of everyone who took the witness stand. All dirty linen in the family histories were bared in the open air of Ede’s Magistrate Court. No one deserves to be publicly made vulnerable in this manner, she remembered thinking on that day sitting beside her father, who bore the brunt of most of the financial requirements. The court hearings were adjourned and adjourned. Key witnesses died off and were buried, lawyers got really sick or travelled and had to be replaced, which meant the new ones would ask for more time to “acquaint” themselves with the case and by the time they were ready the judge was either on summer leave or sick or simply indisposed.
Four years after her first court experience, Ms. Bunmi was 17 and heading to the University while the family land dispute was still in court. Her parents had hoped that she would study law for the family’s sake and because she had the nose for sniffing out lies and liked to argue a lot. But she had other plans since bearing the pressure of a decade-old family case or even people’s troubles were unappealing to her. Worse so, with a justice system that doesn’t work more often than it does.
Two decades have since passed now and even a ten-year old flourishing career in corporate administration failed to shield her from numerous first-hand encounters with Nigeria’s dysfunctional legal system. One of which was her court appearance in representation of her company when it sued a 22 year old Sales girl for fund misappropriation, even though the said employee was owed 5 months salaries in arrears. The case died a natural death in court and till date she had no idea if there was a ruling or a dismissal.
On the other hand, travel and representation of her firm gave her the opportunity to witness the good, bad, and ugly of justice systems all over the world. A few countries fare better than some while others remain at the lowest rung of the justice ladder.
Years of charity campaigns also took her to prisons in different parts of Nigeria. The facilities were in deplorable states. Prison food was fit for animals. Thousands of accused persons were locked up for years awaiting trials that may never hold.
It was on one of those visits that she made a pivot out of the detour route she’d always taken in a bid to avoid practicing law. She was going to confront the devil in the detail. The need to contribute her quota in the fulfillment of the last line of the second stanza of Nigeria’s anthem became ironed within her. One step at a time. Go back to school. Start a prison reform campaign. Graduate. Go to Law school. Own a pro bono law firm. She knew everyday would be an unending struggle, but yeah, it’s only life and she’ll always find a way to get by.
