(A Cautionary Tale from the Trenches of Nigerian Divorce Law)
By MzAgams
There are moments in a lawyer’s career that test the soul. For surgeons, it’s the first time a patient codes. For pilots, it’s turbulence. For divorce lawyers in Nigeria, it’s when your client forgets she’s been collecting child support for nine years.
Yes, nine years. Every. Single. Month.
Let me explain.
The Setup
Mrs. T came to my office like many women do — tired, furious, and ready to burn her marriage certificate in a bonfire. She said her husband had abandoned her and their two children. No support. No visits. Just silence and suffering.
I, being the champion of justice (and possibly caffeine), took the case. I drafted a powerful petition that could make even a hardened judge sniffle. It had everything — cruelty, neglect, and economic abuse. The works.
We marched into court, heads high, moral compass glowing, ready to serve justice hot and spicy.
Then the husband’s lawyer stood up.
He was one of those men who smile too much — the kind of smile that says, “I’m about to ruin your day politely.”
He opened his file and started pulling out papers. Not one, not two, but a stack — a neat, horrifying stack — of receipts.
The Horror
“Your Honour,” he said with a grin, “my client has been paying ₦30,000 every month for the past nine years.”
Silence.
I turned slowly to Mrs. T. She smiled nervously. You know that smile people give you right before they confess something terrible?
I whispered, “What are these?”
She said, “Oh… those… well, yes, he did send ₦30,000. But ₦30,000 can’t even feed one child. So technically… I wasn’t lying.”
Technically.
The Courtroom Equivalent of a Car Crash
I wanted to disappear. I wanted the ceiling fan to detach itself and knock me unconscious.
The judge was not amused.
“Counsel,” he said, “your client received consistent payments for nine years. That is support.”
And that was that.
Mrs. T lost the case. She lost custody. I lost my appetite.
We appealed, of course, but I’d already learned my lesson: always ask your client twice, in three different tones, and with raised eyebrows — “Are you sure he never sent a kobo?”
Postscript: The Philosophy of ₦30,000
To be fair, ₦30,000 is a cosmic joke. It’s not child support; it’s pocket change for two teenagers with appetites like construction workers. But in the eyes of the court, ₦30,000 times nine years is consistency — and consistency beats morality every time.
The law doesn’t care how far ₦30,000 stretches in a Lagos supermarket. It only cares that receipts exist.
Moral of the Story
- Always tell your lawyer the truth. Especially the inconvenient parts.
- Document everything. If you’re the one paying, keep receipts. If you’re the one receiving, don’t “forget.”
- Don’t underestimate ₦30,000. It can’t feed two children, but it can destroy your credibility.
Final Thoughts
Family law in Nigeria is a bit like Nigerian soup — thick, spicy, and full of unexpected bones. You bite, you chew, you survive.
And as for Mrs. T, she told me later, “I just didn’t think it counted.”
It counted. It really counted.
Some cases you win. Some you lose.
And some you remember forever — especially the ones that teach you that the truth, no matter how small or annoying, is always cheaper than a good appeal.
MzAgams 