Life As It Is

March 6

The project continues to weigh heavily on my mind, even more so today. After spending yesterday immersed in the possibilities of my three topic areas, today brought a new challenge: the lecturers who would eventually serve as supervisors. I had always known that having the “right” supervisor could make the difference between a smooth project and a nightmare, but somehow, seeing the names and imagining who I might end up with made the task feel more real and more nerve-wracking.

The faculty circulated a preliminary list of lecturers and their areas of specialization. For Law and Cybercrime, I would most likely fall under Dr. Ifeanyi Okonkwo, whose research focuses on technology law and digital crimes. For Constitutional Law, there’s Prof. Amina Bello, renowned for her analytical depth and her work on civil liberties. And for Election Law, my possible supervisor would be Mr. Chike Obi, a lecturer whose passion for democratic processes and electoral law is almost contagious.

As I scrolled through the list and read their profiles, my chest tightened a little. Dr. Okonkwo was brilliant no one could deny that. He had published extensively on cybercrime, and his courtroom consults had even made the news once or twice. But I had always found him… intimidating, almost unapproachable. There was a certain air about him, a meticulousness bordering on pedantry, that made me feel like every sentence I wrote would be dissected under a microscope. I remembered the few lectures I attended with him in 400L. His voice was precise, his expectations impossibly high, and his critiques… sharp. I had left the hall once, my notes filled with scribbles and questions I was too shy to ask aloud, feeling both enlightened and crushed at the same time.

Prof. Bello, on the other hand, was an enigma. Brilliant, yes, but often so deeply entrenched in theoretical debates that it was easy to get lost in her classes. I appreciated her depth and intellect, but Constitutional Law had never been my first love. I could imagine writing with her, exploring nuances and precedent cases, but my heart wouldn’t fully engage.

Then there was Mr. Chike Obi. Even reading his profile made me feel a spark of excitement. Election Law had always fascinated me, but with him as a potential guide, the subject suddenly seemed more alive. I remembered the few lectures I attended in 300L and 400L where he broke down the complexities of the Electoral Act, the challenges of conducting free and fair elections in Nigeria, and the critical role of the judiciary in resolving disputes. Unlike Dr. Okonkwo, he wasn’t intimidating. Unlike Prof. Bello, he wasn’t abstract to the point of being inaccessible. He had this rare ability to simplify complex ideas without making them feel trivial. I had walked out of his lectures multiple times with my mind buzzing and a smile I couldn’t hide.

I spent the afternoon imagining how it would feel to write my project under each lecturer. With Dr. Okonkwo, the work would be rigorous, technical, and precise, but the thought of his critique made my stomach twist. With Prof. Bello, I would dive deep into constitutional theory, exploring cases and principles with intensity, but the work might feel emotionally distant. And with Mr. Obi… well, I could see myself thriving. I could imagine the discussions, the feedback, the occasional humorous aside in class, and the way he always seemed to recognize when students genuinely understood the material.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized something important: this wasn’t just about choosing a topic anymore. This was about choosing a journey, a guide for the final stretch of law school. And as much as I admired Dr. Okonkwo’s brilliance and respected Prof. Bello’s depth, my mind kept returning to Mr. Obi. There was a comfort in knowing that the lecturer I had always connected with on an intellectual level could help me navigate one of the most important pieces of work in my academic life.

And then there was the topic itself. Election Law had always drawn me in, but now it felt almost inevitable. It wasn’t just the subject it was the way it made me feel. I loved how current it was, how it intersected with society and politics, how the law was tested in real time with every petition and tribunal ruling. And I realized that the reason I was leaning toward it wasn’t just because I enjoyed the cases and statutes it was because of Mr. Obi. He had this uncanny ability to make the law feel alive, to connect the dots between theory and reality, to make even the most procedural court cases feel like part of a larger story. I remembered one lecture where he walked us through a recent gubernatorial election petition. His voice, the way he broke down complex legal arguments into digestible points, the way he encouraged us to question, to think critically I could still hear it in my head. I remembered thinking, I wish I could write my project this way, with this kind of clarity and impact.

I tried to analyze my feelings logically. Was I choosing Election Law solely because of Mr. Obi? Partly, yes. But it wasn’t just him. It was how the subject made sense to me. I had always grasped concepts in the courses he taught effortlessly, while I struggled to feel the same connection in other areas. There was a rhythm to his teaching, a sense of clarity that resonated with my way of thinking. It was practical, it was relevant, it was… energizing.

Even now, sitting at my desk with a cup of tea cooling beside me, I find myself drafting mental outlines for the project. I can see the sections forming: introduction, statutory framework, key court cases, analysis of tribunal decisions, recommendations for reform. I imagine citing recent examples from the news, drawing comparisons between domestic and international election practices, and weaving them together with clear, concise arguments. My mind races with ideas, and for the first time since the project was announced, I feel a sense of certainty, a focus that had eluded me until now.

I also recognize that choosing Election Law aligns with my broader goals. It’s relevant to current events, it engages with societal issues I care about, and it allows me to showcase skills I’ve developed over five years: analytical thinking, attention to detail, and the ability to communicate complex ideas effectively. It feels purposeful. It feels… right.

Of course, there’s still a flicker of anxiety. Will the project be challenging? Absolutely. Will I encounter roadblocks? Almost certainly. Will I doubt my choices along the way? No question. But there’s also excitement. A kind of quiet determination that builds as I plan, outline, and visualize each stage of the work. I feel myself readying for this journey, knowing that while the road will not be easy, it is one I can walk with confidence especially with Mr. Obi guiding the way.

By the end of the day, I have made a mental decision. My three topics are ready, but my heart leans unmistakably toward Election Law. It is both practical and meaningful, a subject I understand deeply thanks to the clarity and inspiration of my potential supervisor. And as I jot down my chosen topic for submission:

“Balancing Democracy and Legislation: Analyzing the Effectiveness of Nigerian Electoral Law in Ensuring Free and Fair Elections”

…my chest feels lighter. There is purpose in the choice, and a sense of direction I haven’t felt in weeks. The project, once daunting and amorphous, now feels like a challenge I am equipped to tackle.

Tonight, as I sit in my apartment, reflecting on the day, I feel a quiet sense of anticipation. The time is indeed near. The final year of law school is pressing forward, one decision at a time. And for the first time in this process, I feel a kind of clarity, a certainty that I am choosing not just a topic, but a path that resonates with my mind, my skills, and my aspirations.