Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been fifteen years since my last confession.
I tried to follow the straight and narrow path, but the cares of this world knocked me off course. I indeed started school at the right age, passed my common entrance in one sitting, and tried to do the will of society by qualifying to be a science student, but that failed. Nonetheless, ubi jus, ibi remedium, I was bound by the second commandment:
Thou shalt become a lawyer if thou canst not be a medical doctor.
I became an art student. Not particularly the elect of society, but I had prospects. The second sin I committed was a failure to pass my WAEC in one sitting, but after the second sitting, I repented and became devoted to the law. Abstaining from worldly pleasures, I studied scripture; from Sagay to Aguda, meditated on the rationes decidendi in UAC v. MacFoy; Carlill v. Carbolic Smoke Ball Co; Madukolu v. Nkemdilim; Josiah v. State, and Doherty v. Doherty, so that I may enter the pearly gates of the noble profession. Deceived by my self-righteousness, I counted myself worthy of the holy grail – a first-class degree. Thankfully, the strong arm of the public university system kept me in my place by putting a flaming sword which turned every way to guard the way to first class, lest I put out my hand to reach for it. Silly me, I forgot the Academic Curve Doctrine:
A remains for the Lord; B for thy lecturers, and C shalt thou receive.
Thankfully my sinful ambition did not preclude me from graduating with a holy second-class upper, which was no mean feat. I should have been grateful for this gift, but I allowed the spirit of ingratitude to consume me to the point that I failed to honour the beatitude:
Blessed are they who read day and night, and night and day, for theirs shall be the certificate of call to the Bar.
Still, grace kept me; I walked through the pearly gates and was ordained a priest in the temple of justice. I looked resplendent in my vestments: the wig of law, the collaret of mercy and the gown of judgment. In my excitement, I saw the beauty of my submission to the will of society. I was now a Barrister.
I was admonished to do justice and intended to as I set my eyes on the empires of corporate practice. It was either the great empires or those small kingdoms that placed tutelage over a living wage, but the tier-ones were too holy for a leprous second-class lower degree holder like me – Law school had sealed my fate. I and my kind have been taken out of the gate, left to pronounce ourselves unclean to those who try to come close. Our lot is to eke a living from scraps, but dignity and fat cheques are for those deemed primus inter pares. Many people claim that as a lawyer, the class of degree you graduate with does not matter, but it is a lie. In this dog-eat-dog world, sandalili, sandalili is the anthem, and the type of honours one graduate with determines their course in life.
Consequently, my grievance is that my banishment means nothing to society. All that society required was to be qualified enough to answer, ‘Barista!’ and to joke about committing crimes they would expect me to defend as I titter. But I am disillusioned and intoxicated with exhaustion from unparalleled devotion to the route society designed as the path to Standard Living. It is the type of exhaustion that sleep cannot cure. My shoulders droop from the weight of the emptiness I carry. I am to be satisfied with being counted worthy of being the second favourite of society, but despair seeps through my veins as I wonder: is this all there is to it?
Father, none desire to answer me honestly, and I think I am losing my mind. Thus, my only recourse has been to ask the God above for answers instead, but He has also chosen to remain silent.
I’m not sure that I’m sorry for these sins.
Joanna Bome Kure 
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