13/06/2025
I’m a Lawyer… But I Ended Up a Tailor
I never planned it this way.
From the start, law was my dream. My passion. My identity.
Ask anyone who knew me at the University of Jos — they’ll tell you Prince Arthur was “D LAW” himself.
Yes, I had a small hustle selling Aba-made shirts and boxers to survive in school. But that was just for daily bread. My real heart was in the courtroom.
I even contested and won the position of President, Law Students Society. That victory was supposed to mark the beginning of a great legal career.
But life had other plans — plans I didn’t see coming.
As President of the law faculty, I was invited to join student welfare activities on campus. But instead of focusing on just that, I allowed myself to be fired up by the stories of Sankara, Gani Fawehinmi, Charles Oriaku, and other fearless icons.
That was how I became a unionist. An Aluta General. A firebrand comrade.
Then one day, My self, Agada V. Agada, Comrade A. Monday Okotie, Dr. Onugbedo, and a few other brave students led a massive protest against the university authority.
Instead of responding to our demands, the Vice Chancellor unleashed the police and the army on us.
Heavily armed, they came after us.
I was dragged out of the hostel, chained like a criminal, beaten, locked up, and finally rusticated from school.
Just like that, I lost everything — my presidency and my status as a student — all in one day.
Later Agada was arrested and locked up. We were kept in detention for weeks until civil society groups stepped in and insisted that we be charged properly in court. Under pressure, the authorities brought us before a magistrate’s court — with a cooked-up charge of kidnapping and violent demonstration.
To God be the glory, we were granted bail. But the matter didn’t end there.
We had to hire lawyers to defend us in the magistrate court — and also filed our own case in the Federal High Court, challenging the illegal rustication.
For almost a year, we fought for our lives in two courts.
Then one day… Abacha died.
And just like that — fresh air blew across Nigeria.
A new government was formed. The Oputa Panel was set up to investigate human rights abuses. Obasanjo appointed a new Vice Chancellor in our school, and one of the first things he did was to recall us and settle the matter out of court.
That was how I returned to school and graduated.
But just when I thought it was over, another blow came.
I applied to Law School.
They rejected me.
Reason?
“For participating in a violent student demonstration”
“And for having a criminal case of kidnapping still pending.”
Jesus!
I tried everything I could to clear my name before the Council of Legal Education. But I was ignored. Shut out. Rejected again.
And that was how I returned to Aba — broken, ashamed, and feeling like a total failure.
I couldn’t bear the shame. I cut off from people and quietly joined my elder brother who was a tailor.
For one full year, I became an apprentice.
But that one year opened my eyes. I saw something in this tailoring work — that Aba tailors were not seeing.
I told myself, that even if I eventually make it to Law School, one day I must come back to this tailor work and make something big from it.
The next year, I was finally admitted into Law School in Enugu.
Thank God.
I enrolled, passed my exams, served my country… and then returned straight back to my Obioma tailoring life.
In the beginning, it was hard. Guys, the pressure was real. Emotionally, Physically and Financially.
At some point, I began to suffer what Sam Loco would call an “identity crisis.”
How do you throw away a certificate you suffered eight good years to earn — ASUU strikes and rustication inclusive?
How do you explain to your disappointed father that his barrister son has become a tailor?
How do you silence friends mocking you and saying:
“Prince don kolo”?
Ahh! I wished I had big money to launch properly. I wanted to show results instantly. I wanted to "blow one time."
But who dash monkey banana?
But thank God I didn’t give up.
I refused to let other people’s opinions shape my life.
I used their doubt as fuel.
Today, I can finally say:
"Thank you Professor Nenfort Gomwalk for that rustication letter."
Today Beyond Clothing just expanded and we are getting set to employ about 500 people.
Therefore I am very happy to say;
"May the Lord bless you wherever you are and also bless your children, children."
Amen.
I want to end by reflecting on this popular saying:
"Crises in the Chinese language are composed of two words "danger and opportunity ".
What do you see when all your friends have moved abroad and you are left behind in Nigeria because you have no contact and you have no money to Japa?
What do you see when you graduate from school and 4 years after graduation, you are unable to find a job?
What do you see when you lose your husband and you have no one to support you and your four children?
Danger or opportunity.
In my own case, I saw an opportunity in my humiliation, and because I was willing to do whatever I could with whatever was available, I was able to create an industry out of my crises.
I like the way the bible puts it.
" count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptation,... but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that ye may be able to stand".
If you are a Josite please say ;
Great Josite!!!!
One love.
Prince Arthur Uche
