The Story Of How I Died

I Was Never Believed in by My Father Until I Became a Barrister at 26

photo by me the writer

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My name is Athanetius Ogwuche Agbo, and this is the story of how I died at 26, shortly after becoming a barrister.

But that sentence makes no sense without understanding where it began.

I was never truly believed in by my father.

From childhood, I lived under a kind of quiet rejection that is difficult to explain unless you’ve felt it. It wasn’t loud abuse. It was absence. Absence of faith. Absence of expectation. Absence of pride.

In our home, I was not seen as someone who would amount to much.

I was my mother’s second child — her first son, born after an older sister, and followed by seven younger sisters and one younger brother, Peter.

But even that position carried no special meaning in my father’s eyes.

He had other children from other wives, and in his world, the sons from those unions seemed to matter more. They were the ones he spoke about with pride. The ones he believed had a future.

I was not one of them.

From early on, I understood something without being told directly: