Dear Younger Me,
You were so full of fire when you stepped out of law school head high, robe pressed, and dreams bigger than the courtroom itself. You thought the world would stand still the moment you introduced yourself as “Counsel.” But life had its own lessons, ones no professor ever mentioned.
You were going to learn that the law is not only about cases, citations, and judgments it’s about people. Broken people. Lost people. People who don’t know where else to turn.
Lesson One: The Client Who Couldn’t Pay
You’ll never forget your first client. A woman in her fifties, eyes tired but hopeful. She sat across your desk, clutching a file with trembling hands.
“My husband’s brothers took everything after his death,” she whispered. “They said I had no right.”
You took her case with all the zeal of a new lawyer. You quoted statutes, you cited precedents, you drafted affidavits late into the night. But when the judgment finally came, she lost.
You didn’t sleep that night. Not because of the law but because you saw how the system could crush the very people it was meant to protect. That day you learned something law school never taught: justice is not always legal, and legal is not always just.
Lesson Two: The Law Is a Mirror
There was the man accused of theft who swore his innocence. You believed him, even when no one else did. During trial, you watched the prosecutor tear him apart. Facts were bent, evidence disappeared, and by the time judgment was passed, you could almost hear his heart breaking.
You stood outside the courtroom, robe in your hand, wondering if the law was worth it. Then, an older lawyer, one you admired, walked up to you and said,
“The law is a mirror, my son. It reflects who we are not what we pretend to be.”
That line stayed with you. Every case after that, you tried to see the human being behind the client, not just the file.
Lesson Three: The Cost of Winning
You’ll win cases that feel like losses.
One day you’ll defend a wealthy client who was clearly wrong but had all the evidence, all the witnesses, all the power. You’ll win the case, walk out with a fat cheque, and feel empty inside.
That’s the day you’ll begin to redefine success. It won’t be about the applause or the courtroom victories anymore. It will be about sleeping at night with a clear conscience.
Lesson Four: The Weight of a Name
You’ll carry the burden of your name “Counsel.” People will assume you have all the answers. Some will fear you, others will adore you, but few will know the sleepless nights, the deadlines, the silent tears.
You’ll learn to smile in the courtroom even when your world outside is falling apart. You’ll learn that mental health is not a weakness, but a form of discipline. And when burnout comes as it will you’ll learn to rest, not quit.
Lesson Five: The Joy of Giving Back
Then one day, you’ll meet a young law student who reminds you of yourself. He’ll come to your office, notebook in hand, eyes filled with dreams. He’ll ask you what makes a great lawyer.
You’ll pause, smile, and say,
“It’s not how much law you know, it’s how much humanity you carry.”
You’ll realize that mentorship isn’t about teaching someone how to win it’s about teaching them how to stand for what’s right even when it’s not popular.
Letter to the Future
Dear Younger Me, you will not become the lawyer you dreamed of you will become something better.
You will lose cases and still win lives.
You will be misunderstood but still stand tall.
You will serve people who can’t pay you and find joy money could never buy.
In the end, you’ll discover that law is not a profession it’s a calling.
Reflection
Many young African lawyers today walk the same path chasing justice through systems that are slow, underfunded, and sometimes unfair. But each one carries the same spark: the belief that the law can still heal a broken society.
This is our story the story of becoming.
The story of lawyers who still believe that one human act of fairness can change everything.
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