Nigerian Law School Champions Inclusivity with support for Student with illness: The Untold Story of Peter Agbor’s Triumph.

Nigerian Law School Champions Inclusivity with support for Student with illness: The Untold Story of Peter Agbor’s Inspiring Triumph 

By Peter Agbor, Esq

“I Couldn’t Hold a Pen, But I Held On”

I always told myself as a young law student at the University of Calabar that I could never fail a law course. And for years, I kept that vow. Then, everything changed.

The First Signs

In my 400 level, second semester, my world began to shift. One year after losing my mother, just six days before my 300 level exams, I started noticing strange changes in my body. My hands began to shake whenever I tried to write. Holding a pen became a struggle. My voice grew weaker, my legs lost balance. I did not understand what was going on with me, but I did remember that these symptoms began after I had a very serious migraine which caused me to spend over N50, 000 (Fifty Thousand Naira) on drugs. Most of my colleagues observed what was happening and advised that I should not write the exams as I was not mentally stable, coupled with the fact that I was with my mom for about 2 months in the hospital until her death. Despite their misgivings, I wrote the exams and did not have a single carry over.

The next challenge was how to tell my father what was happening to me. How could I tell my dad, who had just buried his wife, that his “star boy” was breaking down? I feared something bad would happen to him if he knew my challenges, and so kept it all to myself, convincing myself that it may just be typhoid or malaria. Even when he would ask me over the phone what was wrong with my voice, I would lie that I just had a bad cough. At this point I began to avoid having conversations with anyone, not even with my close friends.

But by my final year, (2024-2025), it got worse. I could not have a firm grip of the pen to write and my once neat handwriting became something my lecturers could not read. My dream of graduating with a 2:1 slipped through my fingers as my scripts came back with E’s.

“Not With This Writing, You Can’t Pass”

One of my lecturers, Dr. Amarachi Ijiomah was the first to notice. Unable to decipher my handwriting on my script, she sought for my phone number, called me, and asked me if I have any plans of going to Law School. Then she said words that cut deep: “Not with this writing, brother. You can’t pass the Bar exams.”

I explained it was something new, something I couldn’t understand. I even sent her an old notebook where my writing used to be clear. She felt bad for me, encouraged me, and gave me N20,000 to see a neurologist. I did, and was referred to do a brain and spine MRI scan, which tests came back inconclusive. I was however diagnosed with a degenerative ailment, caused maybe from a shock or untreated illness.

I left the hospital with expensive drugs I could barely afford (Rilozule), and a body I no longer recognized. The doctor recommended that I should undergo physiotherapy.

Another lecturer who reached out to me upon seeing my exams script, was Asso. Prof. Udoaka. I met with him and as a father, he encouraged me and prayed for me. My graduation was not without the help and intercession of Dr. Anne Agi, who was examinations officer, and Asso. Prof. Rose Ohiama Ugbe, the Dean of Law at the time. All these people knew about my condition even before my family.

Should I Still Dare Law School?

By the time my mates went to Law School in 2024, I still had carryovers I was re-writing, not because I failed, but because lecturers could barely read my scripts. After my carry-over exams which I passed, I saw an announcement for backlog admission.

“How will I write?” I asked myself. Then I remembered something: during my undergraduate days, I once saw a student write exams with a computer, and I had undertaken a computer program in 2020 during the COVID break. Although I could not type fast, I figured I could work on perfecting that.

That was it. If my hands would fail me, I would use a computer. I told my dad. He reluctantly agreed to let me take the form. Prof. Udoaka was very worried about me. He worried that the programme would be too stressful for my health and pointed out my handwriting challenge. I convinced him that I had a plan: if I didn’t get better, I would apply for a computer-based exam. He was impressed with my plan. He prayed for me and wished me good luck.

Yola, My New Battlefield

I arrived at the Nigerian Law School, Yola Campus, in June 2024, with all my tools (notebooks for plan A and a laptop plus an external keyboard for Plan B). My roommates, Ishaku Umar and Timileyin Samuel, became my brothers. They carried my burdens as though they were their own. These guys would do anything to make sure I was fine.

While I was doing my clearance with my colleague, Jane Agube Esq, who helped me with filling the forms, I was asked if I would like to change campus to any campus close to my home. I informed the authorities I was fine with the Yola campus as I was already settling down pretty well in Yola.

But life was not easy. I couldn’t take notes because of the hand tremors, so I began to record lectures on my phone, even though it was banned. I tripled my workload: exercise, practice typing, read, and rest so I wouldn’t collapse.

The voice of Dr. Anne Agi, my lecturer back in Calabar, kept ringing in my ears after she prayed for me before I left: “I may not have money now to give to you, but please, when you go there, try not to procrastinate. Read every day.”

Her words became my lifeline.

The Breaking Point

By the time I got back to Calabar in September for my externship program, walking was almost impossible. But I managed to finish it through the help of my friend and colleague Ojo Bassey.

My law office attachment was with Prof. Dada, Okey & Opara Chambers. I enjoyed proper mentorship, guidance, advice, financial support and constant prayers from my principals. In fact Prof. Dada was always so kind and supportive and Barr. Oke Jumbo specifically prayed for me to have a federal government job when I graduate. I also enjoyed the assistance from my friend, and co-extern Oringo Bamidele.

Back to Yola

At the end of my externship, as I prepared to go back to Yola for my final term, my health deteriorated further. My family begged me to quit. But I wouldn’t. My family saw the resilient spirit in me, they had no choice but to give in. The price of my drug had skyrocketed to N500, 000 per pack and the scarcity of it was even the most scary part. I had to return to campus with a half pack.

I undertook a 20 hour trip by road back to Yola. Upon arrival, I could barely stand on my own without falling. That’s when real fear crept into me. Questions started popping up in my head - Maybe I should have stayed back home as my family advised; what if I am sent back home?

Then I remembered I had not exercised or undergone any physiotherapy for a couple of weeks prior to my trip and asked my friends to register me at a gym facility. They did, but I could not continue for a variety of reasons. My friend, Thankgod Nweke, then took it upon himself to always arrange with his other friends Barr. Melody and another lady to assist me by driving me in their car after lectures.

Once I settled in, through the office of the Dean of student affairs, Mr. Balla Bello, I applied officially for a Computer-Based Bar Finals with my medical reports from the University of Calabar Teaching Hospital. After a few days, I was told to redraft it using the office of the Deputy Director General, (DDG) Nigerian Law School, Yola campus. As usual, Thankgod came through, he re-drafted and submitted my application and followed up on my behalf since it was pretty difficult and stressful for me to go there. A couple of weeks later, I was told to go to the campus medical center for assessment and a report was written to the DDG.

At this point I would walk just a few steps and my legs would be very weak. The only things I enjoyed doing was spending long hours reading my books (even though I was still not certain if my application will be granted), and using the gym.

I shared my story with the Campus Chaplain, Dr. Yakakusak Aduak who would often pray for me, check on me often, and encourage me.

On a certain day while in class, my name was announced that the DDG, Barr. Salmanu Rilwana had summoned me to his office. What followed was one of the scariest days of my life. I feared that my application had been rejected and I was to be sent home.

I was assisted there by my classmates, Egbe Mathew Esq and Moshood Abilola Esq. We met a full panel waiting: the DDG, Dean of Students Affairs, the campus medical doctor and his staff, and other office assistants. My heart sank. This full panel just for me? Were they about to send me home?

At this point, I began to shake. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but all that didn’t seem to help.

The DDG asked me how I intended to write my exams. I managed to tell him I would prefer a CBT bar finals. He then asked me how I want to shade the MCQ given how small those boxes are and how any little mistakes can ruin the exams. I didn’t have an answer to that question.

At this point I almost started crying but the man in me kept saying it is not over yet. At least I had been fasting and praying so I knew God would not just abandon me like that.

He handed me his laptop and asked me to type some words written on a piece of paper. My hands shook uncontrollably. I tried but I was really nervous and one leg trembled so badly an office assistant burst into tears and ran out. Egbe Mathew Esq kept on encouraging me to be calm so I could type the words, but all that wasn’t helping at all. I kept making mistakes.

The DDG shook his head. I felt finished.

He then informed me that the reason he called for the meeting was because my application had reached the Director-General of the Nigerian Law School, Professor Isa Hayatu Chiroma, SAN, who had reached him from Abuja, asked about my condition and wondered if I would be able to use a computer to write the bar finals, considering the limited time. So he thought to test me and get back to the DG and from what he had seen, I was not capable.

He then handed us over to Barr. Arthur Chukwu, in what I would term as a constructive dismissal. Mr. Chukwu then tried to kindly convince me to consider deferring my admission to the following year, but I insisted I was ready to write my Bar finals, if only the school can provide me a system and an external keyboard. I begged for just one more chance.

My hope hung by a thread.

Seeing that I was bent on continuing my studies and writing the Bar exams, the DDG instructed that I present an affidavit from my parents to the effect that they were in support of my decision to stay on and write the exams and that should anything happen while writing the exams, the Law School would be absolved of liability.

Mr. Chukwu then asked me to speak with my group mentor, Barr. Mrs Hope Lifted Haruna, who was the professional ethics lecturer and report back.

I thanked them all and left. There was hope. I informed my father who swore to the said affidavit, absolving the school of liability and sent same to me which I submitted.

The Law School Became Family

With the help of Egbe Matthew, I arranged a meeting with Mrs. Hope Haruna. I explained my predicament and Mathew explained that denying me a chance to write the exams would do more damage to me. Even though she noted that I should not have returned if I was feeling this weak, she was very sympathetic and assured us she will contact a couple of persons and get back to me. She advised that I should be calm.

I must add that Mrs. Haruna was a bit familiar with me as I had answered her questions a couple of times, during our group pre-class tasks, which no one else could answer and the class would always clap for me. These were incentives that kept me pushing. Also I had just written a pre-bar test on criminal litigation and scored 20 over 20. I also scored high grades in other courses; never below 18 over 20. So I felt I was too ready for the exam.

True to her word, Mrs. Haruna reached out to others. The very next morning, I received a message from Dr. Yakakusak Aduak, (the Campus Chaplain) that he would like to see me. Mrs. Haruna had spoken to him and he had also spoken to Mr. Aliyu Hamidu (a former Law School DDG) and another lecturer who all wanted to see me. I met with them and Dr. Yakakusak Aduak, Mr. Aliyu Hamidu and another lecturer, joined the fight for me. Dr. Rebecca Badejobi, Dean of Student Affairs, also fought in my corner.

We had written the Corporate Law pre-bar test and both lecturers were very interested in my results. I scored 18 over 20 and they were impressed with me. Dr. Aduak encouraged me and was even ready to take me to a neurologist who is related to Mr. Aliyu Hamidu whenever I was free.

That evening, after the dinner, Mr. Aliyu Hamidu still looked for me to assure me that everything was under control and that I should continue reading. He further assured me that he was already in contact with the DDG on my case and that every assistance would be provided.

Three days to the exams, the Dean of Student Affairs sent for me. I went to her office with the help of Egbe Mathew. She informed me that the DDG had set up a test for me to check my readiness. While we waited, we read out notes from our phones as the Bar finals was close and at this time, every minute you spent without your books was counting against you.

When it was time, we were ushered into the DDG’s office where a table with a computer and an external keyboard had been prepared for me. As I was assisted to the table, Egbe whispered in my ears: “You can do this bro.” I sat down before the computer and typed with all my heart.

This time, I typed better. I was able to show some proficiency in my typing. I knew because the DDG smiled. “Mr. Agbor, go and prepare. The Law School has added 30 minutes to your time. For multiple choice questions (MCQ), you’ll type your answers like the visually impaired candidates do. Instead of shading, you will type your options A or B which will be printed and attached to your MCQ sheet and submitted”.

I almost cried. For the first time in years, hope returned. I felt relief!

I had been given a chance; now I knew it was my duty to deliver like the Hebrew women. I waited for the Bar finals.

At this point I was already the most popular student on campus, everywhere I was being assisted to, the people would hail me: “Inakwana Barr. Peter”.

From the DDG down to the cleaners, they all know Agbor Peter (the sick guy).

In fact, I was bleeding through the nose while in Yola and I experienced seizures lots of times.

Colleagues who I didn’t know would be looking for me after lectures to drive me back to my hostel.

Bassey Ojo would always come to my room as early as possible to assist me to class room.

The staff in charge of attendance were not left out. They went out of their way to wait for me to arrive to sign the attendance sheet and they were always there, patiently waiting never complaining at my slow pace, just to ensure I signed.

I became an inspiration to many, and on days when I was strong, I would go to class very early and surprise them all, even though I could decide not to go and I will still be pardoned. In fact Glory Sule Esq would always call me her source of inspiration.

Dr. Aduak even invited a missionary who was a trustee of the chapel in campus to come and pray for me.

The students, both Muslims and Christians would always come to my room to pray for me. I received a lot of cash gifts from them, most of them telling me you have come too far to look back, and a few of them marveling at my determination and declaring that if it were them, they won’t return.

The Bar Finals

On the day Bar Finals began, I was ready. I wrote my examinations in the DDG’s office.

I was supervised by his office assistant, Mr. Abdullahi and the Secretary to the DDG, known as ‘Mama Hassan’ and even by the DDG himself, who would always come in daily to see me how I was doing and to ask if I had submitted my phone before starting.

These people were not just invigilators but spectators who were cheering me up to make them proud.

I would tell them to reduce the Air conditioner when I didn’t feel okay and they would.

I would always go there with a bottle of water and would drink at intervals.

For the duration of the bar finals, the campus ambulance was kept in the administrative block, close to where I wrote my exams, instead of by the classrooms where over 500 students were writing their exams. I did not need a prophet to tell me it was kept there for me.

Of course the bar finals is one of the simplest exams I have ever written.

My most difficult moments in the exams was whenever I had to sign the attendance list and fill in the information like my exam number, name and date on the answer booklet. It was a big deal for me as the rule is that all candidates must fill those areas themselves so that the Council can see that they sat for the exams.

Some days I would condemn up to three or four sheets before getting something a bit legible. The staff were always so patient with me. I thank them and commend the patience they exhibited.

There were my cheerleaders.

And when it was all over, I signed out of the law school knowing I had done my best. I was so grateful to God who despite my very obvious weakness had shown me favour, preserved me and seen me through.

A couple of weeks after I returned home I felt ill and was rushed to the hospital. I was struggling to breathe. I was diagnosed with tuberculosis, I had to commence treatment immediately. Though the medications caused me more numbness and weakness.

The Result That Changed My Life

On August 1st, 2025, results came out, at about 10pm. A few classmates who have checked theirs were already jubilating in the class WhatsApp group.

I didn’t have the courage to check. My heart was pounding. I was filled with so much fear, and questions in my head.

What if I failed?

What if I get a missing script?

What if the marker couldn’t see my exams number I wrote on the attendance sheet?

What if all my friends’ sacrifices were wasted?

My biggest fear about failure was the process involved in applying for a CBT bar resit. Who would assist me the way my friends did in Yola!?

For me, failing would be the end of wearing a wig and gown

I sent my details to a friend, Jane, and waited.

The tension continued to grow, the pressure kept growing each time a message dropped in the class group.

Minutes later, she replied by posting a picture with a caption: “Major…”

Without looking, I just knew I passed. I don’t remember clicking on the screenshot photo but I must have because it opened up and there it was: my results. I passed the Bar exams with a second class.

I screamed!!!!!!

The last time I was this happy was in 2018 when I first gained admission into the Faculty of Law.

Now I had to deal with the congratulations from friends, families and colleagues.

Although one person I would have loved to break this news to is my beautiful late mom.

What’s Next for Me?

I will be called to the Bar soon. But my journey is far from over.

For me it’s just a world filled with so much uncertainties not just because of the unemployment in the country but my health challenges.

My colleagues have proceeded for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) and on our platforms I see them posting pictures of themselves in their various camps and I am happy for them but the thought that I cannot join them for my service year on health grounds, really hurts me.

My drugs, once N38,000 naira, now cost N500, 000 (Five Hundred Thousand Naira) per pack. Walking is still difficult. My health is uncertain. Of course I still believe that I will be fine, one day I will have to walk on my own without the aid of someone’s even though I lack proper medical attention at the moment due to lack of finances. 

Yet amidst all my challenges, I still got big dreams. I want to work and earn like every graduate. I want to further my studies if I can find institutions as accommodating as the Law School. One day, I want to own my own chambers, employ other lawyers, and give back the same way others carried me.

My story is not just mine. It belongs first to God who preserved me by his mercy. Then to my lecturers who refused to give up on me, my friends who carried me, the law school that opened its doors wider to accommodate my weaknesses, and to everyone who believed I could still wear the wig and gown. There are no words worthy and weighty enough to thank them all.

I couldn’t hold a pen. But I held on. And that made all the difference.

This is me sending out my appreciation to God and to all who stood by me from the Law School Director General, the Deputy Director General of the Yola Campus, staff, students and all my friends mentioned above and those I have not mentioned. I remember you all. Thank you.

Peter Agbor, Esq

For media inquiries or to support Peter’s recovery journey, please contact: 09031740863. (Dr. Anne Agi)