Hear it from the Horse’s Mouth
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| It’s harder to tell the story of a First Class than to actually make the First Class |
"Do not wash your dirty linen in public is not just a saying, it is an advice a wise man need not hear twice. A great man should work hard in silence and show only the results. Nobody cares about the journey, the process, or the pain—just the outcome. In the end, there is no justification for failure.”
I think I’ve held on to these beliefs for so long, and perhaps that's why it’s been so difficult for me to tell this story—my journey as a First Class Law Graduate. Godstime, the best writer in my class, once wrote, “It is harder to tell the story of a First Class than to actually make the First Class.” And I couldn’t agree more. Telling my story makes me feel vulnerable—exposed, even. Many times, I’ve been asked to share my journey. A few times, I’ve tried. But I often lack the words. My journey isn’t the sweet, inspiring tale people expect. To me, it feels like that “dirty linen” I am reluctant to wash in public. And yet, here I am, proud of my achievement, of graduating with First Class Honours in Law. But truthfully, I am not very proud of my story—the pain and struggles I endured on this journey."
And still—despite it all—the truth remains: the journey to becoming a lawyer is one of the most beautiful a person can ever undertake. Studying Law was the best decision I made for myself, even though it wasn’t part of my childhood dreams. But make no mistake—the path was anything but easy. It was rough, tough, crooked, and very dark.
Law and Financial Struggle
As a child, my dream was never to become a lawyer—I simply wanted to be a graduate. That was the height of my ambition. I attended a community primary school where we were only three in the class. There, the person who came third was last. I always came first, and my teachers called me a one-eyed man in the land of the blind. The fact that we were just three in class was a testament to how little education was valued where I came from—not out of ignorance, but poverty. In my village, university was a distant dream no one could afford. So, after primary school, the path was almost always the same: learn a trade or a craft, usually in Cameroon. That was the norm. That was the future we knew.
In secondary school, I continued to maintain my first position, but even then (until the point of filling the form to write JAMB), I was convinced that Law wasn’t for me. Becoming a university graduate was already a gigantic dream, so I never permitted myself to think of Law. That would have been very unrealistic—almost like reaching for the sky with bare hands. Besides, I had never even seen a real lawyer until I got to the Faculty of Law. So how could a boy like me have dreamt of becoming one?
My greatest fear was that I might never make it to the university at all. My father didn’t have the means, and that reality hovered over me like a shadow even in my brightest moments. To raise money for study materials, I hawked cooked groundnuts from street to street, and from one student lodge to another at the end of every school term. Thankfully, students of Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University lived in my town, so I rarely struggled to find buyers. My father is an electrician—more specifically he repairs radios by the roadside in our village and sometimes dabbles into local politics. My mother is a subsistence farmer who combines farming with gathering and selling firewood. Together, they worked hard, very hard, but even their combined efforts could barely keep us afloat, much less fund a university education.
In 2018, I took the bold step to sit for JAMB, despite all the uncertainties and fears that surrounded me. In my first attempt, I scored 274 and was offered admission into the Faculty of Arts to study Religion and Human Relations (RHR). Studying Religion wasn’t just about learning doctrines—it was about discovering myself. For the first time in my life, I questioned my beliefs. I began to think more critically, and to view the world through an open, objective lens.
My greatest challenge as a fresher was not having an android phone. I would travel back home to use my uncle’s phone—Bro Emeka—to do my assignments. Other times, I would borrow from friends or classmates just to get through.
In 2019, while still studying RHR, I registered for JAMB again with my last savings. This time, I was offered admission on merit to study Law and I had to abandon my CGPA of 4.70. I tried to transfer to Law instead, but my HOD refused to release his best student. It was painful—so painful—I spent a full week indoors, crying. But I had to let it go. I didn’t want UNIZIK to choose a future for me that wasn’t mine. And so, I started again from 100 level.
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| My first day in the university as a law student |
I gained admission into the Faculty of Law with just one shirt and a pair of black trousers. My shoes were the ones I picked during one of my hawking trips. I would return from school in the evening, wash my white shirt, and pray earnestly that it would dry before morning. Most days, I trekked to and fro school. I defied the unwritten code that said a law student should never be seen walking through Ifite road in black and white. Pride couldn’t feed us—and the dream was bigger than the stigma.
During the COVID-19/ASUU strike, I made a firm resolution: I was going to make money for myself. I didn’t want to return to school still unable to meet my basic needs. That was when I took up hard labor—casting concrete at construction sites in my village, fighting daily to earn at least ₦2,000 (two thousand naira). My goal was to save up to ₦30,000 (thirty thousand naira) each month. Around that time, I had just read The Richest Man in Babylon by George Clason and Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. My spirit was on fire, and my motivation soared to a whole new level.
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| During the COVID-19/ASUU strike, I made a firm resolution: I was going to make money for myself. I didn’t want to return to school still unable to meet my basic needs. |
Working was... fun but also excruciatingly painful. I broke my waist the first time I tried casting concrete. I fell from ladders and got injured more times than I could count. Cement bite is one of the worst injuries you would experience on site—and I suffered it several times. (Can cement bite? Yes. Once it mixes with water and touches your skin, just a few minutes of minimal friction is enough to leave a deep, burning wound.) The pain creeps into your brain and lingers. Your ability to work with minimal bites is the real proof that you’re becoming a pro. But here’s the truth: you never truly escape them completely. My shovel and bucket became my most prized possessions. I defended them fiercely and fought anyone who took them for granted. My friends at work even joked that they would gift me a bucket and shovel on my Call to Bar day. Hahaha.
By the time the ASUU strike was called off in 2021, I was ready to face school. I bought myself an Android phone (Infinix Hot 10 lite), a sharp suit, sturdy shoes, and proper corporate wear. That same year, I studied for four semesters back-to-back (100 and 200 level), wrote four different exams, and progressed straight into my 300 level. But I didn’t stop working. Not until the 9th of November, 2024, after my graduation.
Typically, I resumed classes about two months after school reopened. Once my savings ran out, I would return home during the week to hustle for my upkeep. I hardly travelled during the weekends because of my commitment in church. I missed most of my classes. I memorized my statutory authorities while mixing cement and sand, and recited case laws while carrying loads of concrete. Some of my friends mistook my absence as me locking myself up in my room to study. I mean, I did that too—but not always, especially in my 400 level and 500 level when things became more difficult.
The real secret of my success? God's grace—and the ability to stay awake and study for long hours. Sometimes, I read for 48 hours straight with little or no sleep. I also built the habit of reading every day, no matter how tired I was—even if it was just for 10 minutes—so long as school was in session. I rarely read law books during the holidays. I taught myself most of the topics. And when I couldn’t, I asked for help. Thankfully, I had great friends that were always willing to help. Muna would send me audio recordings of classes I missed. Peace would give me her notes and Ebube would guide me on what to read and what to skip.
In my list, survival comes right after the goal to graduate with a First Class. I was strong, fast, and fierce—yet calm and gentle. At construction sites, I was known as Chiemerie, the strong boy. I approached labour with the same passion Godstime has for writing. I travelled across states—Delta and Enugu—and even rejected an offer to work in Port Harcourt. I worked in every nook and cranny of Anambra State. Most times, I worked at Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University; there’s always a construction site in the university. I was never afraid of people’s opinions or criticism, especially working in a school environment where some of the students were my friends. I considered myself lucky to have a source of income. God didn’t only bless me with intelligence, he gifted me with physical strength and vigour. Like Napoleon Hill wrote, I truly believed that being poor was a blessing—an added advantage for me. I never complained or felt sorry for myself; I didn’t have that luxury. But deep down, I battled with a quiet war: low self-esteem, the echo of doubt planted by my circumstance. Still, I believed in myself: that I could rise. That I was more than the labels, the silence, and the struggles.
Tailoring
Of course, I pride myself on being very creative. I have always had the natural ability to learn fast. I taught myself how to sew (the basics) in JSS 2. In 2021, I bought myself a sewing machine from my savings from concrete work. I wasn't so good then, but I could sew my native wears and my sisters' school uniforms. In 2022, I spent only one month in a tailor’s workshop. I was neither being paid nor did I have the money to buy the materials I needed to advance my learning. It was worsened by the fact that I had a lot of bills to pay as a student. So I ran away. It was around that time that I made up my mind to start saving seriously for Law School. My greatest fear as a law student wasn’t failing; it was graduating and being unable to afford Law School fees. Law school is extremely expensive. By then, I had heard stories of students that had to wait for years before going to law school. I didn’t want it to be mine. Concrete work, though tough, always brought in the papers (money). So I dug deeper and worked even harder. Today, I am a self-taught, refined tailor—thanks to YouTube. The world is so far advanced that anyone can learn just about any skill online whether for free or for a little fee. And I’m living proof of that.
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| I sew robes, suits, corporate shirts and trousers, waistcoats, native wears (senator, vintage, danshiki, Agbada), female gowns, and graduation gowns. |
Personal Growth
I was deeply committed to my personal growth and development. I read books—lots of them. Brian Tracy was my biggest coach. Through his teachings—especially his books Goals, Eat That Frog, and No Excuses: The Power of Self-Discipline—I came to believe I could achieve any goal. Robert Kiyosaki helped me sharpen my financial intelligence. With Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People and Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power, I excelled in leadership. I deliberately sought out mentors and chose my friends with intention and wisdom. I participated in as many competitions—writing and mooting—as my time could allow me. I didn’t just show up, I won. I was awarded Best Counsel in the Veritas Chambers Intra-Chamber Moot Competition, won the Advocacy Pitch on LinkedIn organized by the NAULawReview, emerged as the winner of the Learned Writers Essay Competition, among others.
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| I didn’t just show up, I won |
Law and Politics
Out of passion for service, I was deeply involved in faculty politics in my 100 and 200 levels, serving as a senator in the faculty. However, when things grew more burdensome for me, I stepped back. In 400 level, I decided to run again. I lost so badly that I was openly called a "failure." But I didn’t give up. Eventually, I became the Senate President of the Law Students’ Association (LAWSA), and to this day, I say it with boldness: I was the best Senate President LAWSA ever had. Tomorrow, I will become one of the most influential politicians in Nigeria—unless God has a different plan.
Truly, becoming the Senate President was the peak of my experience in the Faculty of Law. It was the most demanding office I had to hold, especially under Maxwell’s tenure, the most productive LAWSA Executive President in recent history. His administration faced many oppositions, especially in its early days. There were constant plots to frustrate his policies and decisions and possibly impeach him; the LAWSA Senate was the only path to make it happen. That atmosphere turned my office into a war room, but it also became a furnace where I was refined. I learned. I grew.
I may have received no financial compensation for my work as Senate President, but the role gave me something far more valuable: access and influence. Today, I have personal relationships with top political and legal icons in Anambra State—men and women who believe in me and sponsored my Law School journey.
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| My humble self with the Honourable Speaker of the Anambra State House of Assembly, Rt. Hon. Somtochukwu N. Udeze, PhD |
Law and Faith.
Through it all, I never lost faith in God. With my whole heart and strength, I remained devoted to Him throughout my time in school. I was privileged to serve as the Pastor’s Warden and Chief Steward at the Chapel of Redemption, UNIZIK. Many Saturdays, I would trek from Ifite to the Main Chapel building in order to prepare and clean the church for Sunday service. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. This consistent dedication and service to God helped me avoid so many mistakes, shielded me from distractions, and kept my heart steady.
God gave me the strength to stand firm. There were semesters when I sat for exams without being able to pay my school fees. In those moments, studying hard became my only escape from the harsh reality—otherwise, my grades would have suffered significantly. I trusted God deeply and believed He would make a way. In the end, he sent me help through Dr. Sylvester Igwilo—a medical doctor in my class whose kindness went beyond friendship. It was the unconditional love of a father.
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| Ps.91.1 - He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. |
One thing I’ll always love about myself is my kind heart. I squatted three of my coursemates at different times in my small apartment without asking for anything in return. I was an Igbo Language tutor under CLASFON and helped fellow law students to pass their Igbo GS exams with ease. I also founded My Dream A Reality (MDEAR) Initiative aimed at helping indigent students survive the financial hurdles of school life. Through the MDEAR Initiative, I have provided study materials to primary school pupils and made efforts—though unsuccessful—to secure school fees for financially handicapped students in my class while serving as a senator in my 200 level.
Today, I’m a graduate. In the class of Firsts—among the top 1% (one percent) of over 8,000 students who graduated from UNIZIK. I have no regrets. But I have had my own share of pain. I was publicly assaulted and humiliated by an anti-cult officer, simply because I couldn’t pay my rent on time. In my final year, my room was broken into. My brand new laptop—bought with sweat and savings from casting concrete—was stolen, along with other valuables. It happened just two weeks before I was to begin my undergraduate thesis. I ended up typing and editing my entire project on my phone, while struggling with depression. That semester, I got a D—for the first time.
Every day, I celebrate—not just the First Class, but every bit of this journey. I celebrate the pain, the struggles—especially the financial struggles and the mistakes. I celebrate the darkness, the pressure, and the choices—good or bad—that shaped me. And I am deeply thankful to every single person who stood by me through the years—my family, friends, mentors, and well-wishers.
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| I am, D’Legal Victor |
My academic journey has been one of hope, resilience, perseverance, diligence, and sheer moxie. I’m sharing my story with the hope that it becomes a source of strength—especially to students navigating the harsh realities of extreme financial hardship. To every student who came from nothing: you are not alone. My experiences have morphed me into a better, stronger, and more responsible individual. And if this is only the beginning of my life’s journey, then I can say that I’m already in the skies.
Like the phoenix, I have risen from the dust. Like Annette always scribbles: “To every rose that rose from concrete; blossom!” I literally rose from concrete. Why shouldn’t I blossom?
I conquered Law. I conquered Law Faculty. I conquered every obstacle to becoming a lawyer.
And that is why I am D’Legal Victor.
Congratulations to me
D’Legal Victor
LL.B First Class.
About the Author
Nnonyelu Nwachinemelu Victor, known as D’Legal Victor, is a First Class Law graduate from Nnamdi Azikiwe University (UNIZIK) and currently a postgraduate student at the Nigerian Law School. He was born and raised in Ezinkwo Village, Awkuzu, in Oyi Local Government Area of Anambra State.
Victor is profoundly passionate about men’s fashion. Beyond a love for style, it is a calling he answers through tailoring. As a fashion designer, he creates clean, distinct pieces that reflect refinement and purpose. His creativity also reflects in his graphic designs, where he crafts bold and compelling concepts entirely from the scratch. Whether working with fabric or digital tools, he is both gifted and committed to delivering excellence through his craft.
Highly goal-driven and relentless in pursuit of his dreams, Victor is known for his discipline and willingness to make sacrifices for long-term impact. He has a strong interest in politics and is drawn to visionary leaders who champion meaningful change.
For Victor, every step forward is a reminder of how far he has come—and how much more is possible. His journey is still unfolding, but his vision is clear: to live with impact, integrity, and intention.
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