Ufuomanefe (eBook)

A story of child marriage, domestic violence,resilience and courage.

Janet Ovedje (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
240 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
9780000813800 (ISBN)

Infos

The novel delivers a deeply emotional yet inspiring story of survival, generational resilience, and the enduring power of a mother's love. Through its tragic turns and powerful themes, Ufuomanefe reminds readers of the importance of perseverance, community support, and the fight for justice and personal freedom.

Key Themes:
1. The struggles of girl child marriage and early childbirth.
2. Domestic violence and abuse.
3. Self-discovery and empowerment.
4. The clash between tradition and modernity.
5. Motherly love, sacrifice, and legacy.
6. Overcoming adversity and achieving success.

Textauszug

Chapter 14: Law School.

Law school in Abuja was nothing like Ogheneruese had imagined, it was intense, fast-paced, and competitive. The moment she arrived at the Nigerian Law School campus, Bwari, she felt the gravity of her next journey. The department of Criminal Law had not only awarded her a scholarship, but they also sent her off with a letter of recommendation that boosted her confidence.

From the first day, lectures were demanding. Legal drafting, civil and criminal litigation, professional ethics, and property law, each class stretched the limits of her understanding and discipline. Yet, she rose to the challenge.

Her favourite course remained Criminal Law Advocacy, taught by Barrister Akinyemi, a well-respected litigator whose passion for justice echoed through every word he spoke.

“Who can tell me the difference between unlawful carnal knowledge and consensual intercourse under Nigerian law?” he once asked, pacing dramatically at the front of the room.

Ogheneruese stood confidently. “Unlawful carnal knowledge refers to intercourse without consent, often involving coercion, deceit, or incapacity to consent. It is criminalised under both the Criminal Code and Penal Code. Consensual intercourse, on the other hand, is based on mutual agreement without pressure, manipulation, or fear, and must involve persons of legal age.”

“Excellent answer, Ogheneruese,” Barrister Akinyemi said with a satisfied nod. “A future silk in the making.”

One of the most memorable days in class came when Professor Agwu, a guest lecturer with a flair for overcomplicated vocabulary, entered the lecture hall.

“In the context of legal jurisprudence, who can explicate the concomitant liabilities arising from fiduciary breach vis-à-vis equitable restitution?” he asked, his brows arched dramatically.

The class fell silent.

Then, Bassey, a cheerful law graduate from Calabar known for his boldness and thick accent, stood up.

“Sir, if I hear well, you are saying when person carry another person money and chop it without telling, then the person go fit vomit the money back through court. That’s the restitution in the mata.”

The hall burst into laughter. Even Professor Agwu couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“Ah, Mr. Bassey. Your grasp of the concept is unorthodox, but accurate,” he said.

Bassey grinned and bowed. “Thank you, Sir. Na Calabar style we dey use understand book.”

Ogheneruese laughed with the others. These moments gave balance to the intensity of their training.

As the laughter died down, Ogheneruese raised her hand and stood up. Her voice was calm but firm.

“Sir, fiduciary breach occurs when a person in a position of trust acts contrary to the interest of the beneficiary. Under equitable principles, the defaulter is liable to restore any benefit obtained through such breach.

Restitution is the mechanism used to correct the wrong and prevent unjust enrichment. Therefore, concomitant liabilities may include full financial restoration, tracing of assets, and, in some cases, constructive trust.” The class went silent for a moment.

Then came the wave of “Wow!” and applause.

Professor Agwu smiled broadly and nodded. “Now that, my dear students, is how to give a proper answer. Clear, concise, and grounded in legal reasoning. Well done, Miss Ogheneruese. You have the makings of a brilliant mind.”

Bassey leaned over and whispered loudly, “Na you be our real advocate o! If I thief, I go surrender before you catch me.”

The room burst into laughter again, but this time, it was filled with admiration for Ogheneruese’s brilliance.

Law school wasn’t just books and lectures. They had court simulations, where Ogheneruese often played the role of the prosecuting counsel. Her arguments were always precise, her presence firm but calm. She spoke like someone who had seen injustice and wasn’t going to let it go unchallenged.

Halfway through the programme, the school organised a three-month law office attachment, often referred to as the externship. Ogheneruese was posted to a reputable law firm in Abuja that specialised in human rights cases. There, she shadowed senior lawyers, drafted motions, observed real courtroom proceedings, and even attended community legal education sessions where they educated women and girls on their legal rights.

One particular day during her externship, she helped prepare a case involving a young housemaid who had been denied her wages and assaulted by her employer. Sitting with the girl and hearing her story reminded Ogheneruese of her younger self, and she promised silently: No child or woman should go unheard.

When the three-month practice ended, her supervisor, Barrister Falade, gave her glowing feedback.

“You have the makings of a fearless advocate,” he told her. “Stay focused, Ogheneruese. Nigeria needs you.”

One evening, as the dusty breeze of Abuja rustled through the open window of her law school hostel room, Ogheneruese’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen. The name made her chest tighten: “Ovie.” Her father.

She hesitated, then picked up.

“Hello my pikin, how you dey?” came the gruff, weathered voice from the other end.

From the faint tremble in his voice and the slow drawl, Ogheneruese could tell he was getting older. But age didn’t soften the bitterness she felt.

“I dey fine, sir,” she replied coolly.

“I just say make I hear your voice. Na your aunt tell me say you don graduate finish law school soon. Na God o. But… things no easy for here. I dey manage, but small thing fit help. If you fit send something… e go go a long way.”

Ogheneruese flared. She sat upright, her voice sharp but composed.

“Oh, you suddenly remembered I exist? After years of abandonment and pain? Now that I’ve climbed this ladder with bleeding knuckles, you want to cash in?”

“Ah ah, no talk like that. I still be your papa”

“Sir,” she interrupted firmly, switching to polished English. “Fatherhood is not a title one claims by biology. It’s earned through responsibility, guidance, and care. You relinquished that right the moment you sold me off and vanished into self-interest. Now, your sudden paternal instincts are neither welcomed nor honoured.”

There was silence on the line for a moment. Then came Ovie’s confused voice, “Wetin you dey speak sef? All this grammar…”

Ogheneruese let out a short laugh, mocking, tinged with pain. “It’s called growth, sir. A language you never taught me to speak. Good evening.”

With that, she ended the call and stared at the phone, heart pounding. There was no triumph in her chest only a deep, aching mixture of release and sorrow.

She sighed deeply, then looked out the window, whispering, “Mummy, I wish you were here to see this. I’m no longer that girl you left behind.”

One quiet Saturday afternoon, after a long morning spent reviewing case files and preparing for mock trials, Ogheneruese’s phone buzzed. A group video call from Esosa and Damilola lit up her screen. She smiled immediately and answered, adjusting her glasses as both familiar faces appeared.

“My girls!” Ogheneruese beamed. “How una dey?”

“See as you fresh for Abuja o!” Esosa teased, adjusting her scarf as she grinned from her room at Lagos Campus.

Damilola laughed from her end at Enugu Campus, sipping a drink. “Ogheneruese, if person no know you, dem go think say you never open book since you enter law school.”

“Abeg o, I don read tire,” Ogheneruese said, chuckling. “Criminal litigation is draining my soul.”

“Tell me about it!” Damilola exclaimed. “Evidence law wants to finish me. I almost wrote ‘res ipsa loquitur’ as a defense to murder!” All three burst into laughter.

Esosa added, “My lecturer used grammar that shook my destiny. He said, ‘The conundrum of prosecutorial discretion juxtaposes the intricacies of constitutional protection.’ I just dey nod like lizard. I no understand anything.”

Ogheneruese laughed so hard, she had to hold her stomach. “That’s how one guy in my class answered a question with confidence, quoting the Penal Code for a question on the Criminal Code. The lecturer asked him if he missed his way to the wrong law school!” They all cracked up again.

Damilola said between giggles, “Ladies, how are we feeling about these upcoming exams?”

“Stressed but hopeful,” Esosa replied. “I’ve been pulling all-nighters. My eye don red pass tomato.”

“I’ve been practising for the mock trials,” Ogheneruese added. “You know Criminal Law Advocacy is my best class. Professor Elo doesn’t play.” “Ah, that man and real-life examples,” Esosa said. “Na so he use one kidnapping case teach us, I no sleep that night!”

Damilola leaned in closer on her screen. “But honestly, I’m proud of us. Three small-town girls from Delta State. Look at where we are now.”

There was a quiet moment as the truth of her words settled between them.

“Ufuomanefe’s spirit go dey dance,” Esosa said softly. Ogheneruese nodded, eyes moist. “She’s with me. Every step.” They all smiled.

“After bar final, we’re meeting in Abuja, right?” Esosa said.

“Yes! That call to bar day, we go paint town red,” Damilola cheered.

“I can’t wait to hug you both in person,” Ogheneruese said. “Let’s promise, no matter how busy life gets, we’ll always have each other.” “Forever,” they all said at the same time, laughing...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater
• ISBN-13: 9780000813800 / 9780000813800