They say the court is the last hope of the common man,
but today, if an ordinary person runs there for help,
he comes back carrying an empty bag
and a lesson in how money talks louder than truth.
The judge’s robe, once white like fresh morning,
now carries the smell of the marketplace,
stitched not with threads of fairness
but with the fine fabric of fat envelopes.
Once, justice stood tall like a stubborn palm tree,
refusing to bend for the storm.
Now it bends quickly,
not for wind, but for the warm handshake of greed.
The gavel that used to roar like thunder,
now nods politely to money bag politicians
as if saying, “Welcome, my master.”
In today’s courtroom, truth is measured like tomatoes—
the richer you are, the bigger your share.
A clever lawyer can turn a cow into a mosquito
if the bench is well-fed.
Politicians arrive with cash that sings,
and the gavel becomes a happy drumstick,
beating to the rhythm of their pocket songs.
During elections, the court is the busiest stall in town,
selling verdicts to whoever drops the heaviest bag.
The judges, once feared for their firmness,
now dance like invited guests at a big wedding,
taking instructions from their rich hosts,
freeing guilty friends
and locking up innocent strangers.
Yes, justice is blind,
but now it wears a blindfold made from crisp naira notes.
Without honest courts,
a nation is like a boat without a paddle,
spinning in the middle of the river.
No investor trusts a place
where judgments are decided in private dining rooms
before the case even begins.
Why plant a farm
if the harvest will go straight into a thief’s barn?
Court orders now fly away like kites in the wind.
The rule of law is just another song for official events,
sweet on paper but tasteless in reality.
Behind certain closed doors,
politicians keep the judges on short leashes,
whispering secrets that can pull them like goats.
And when greed shakes hands with justice,
truth stands outside holding its shoes—
because it was asked to leave quietly.
If this country is serious about growing,
fairness has to matter more than political friendship.
But here, greed plays the loudest drum,
and those meant to guard justice
move their feet to its sound.
Today, the courts do not just smell of corruption,
they cook it, season it, and serve it hot.
Instead of saving the nation from bad leaders,
they crown them, shield them,
and help them build stronger walls against honesty.
We live in a place
where the scales of justice tip toward the heavier pocket,
where truth is sold by the kilo,
and hope is beaten into comedy.
Until our judges decide that God’s fear
is worth more than a politician’s handshake,
Nigeria will keep marching like a donkey tied to a post,
burning the sun, but not moving forward.
And justice, that proud symbol of fairness,
will keep smiling politely,
while shaking hands with greed.
EBIKABOWEI KEDIKUMO - writes from Ayakoromo Town, Delta State
