It was a Saturday morning, around 9:00 a.m. I stood in my kitchen debating breakfast.
Should I settle for a healthy bowl of oats garnished with blueberries, strawberries, nuts, and avocado? Or should I prepare boiled yam with egg whites, tomatoes, onions, and mushrooms lightly fried in avocado oil?
As I weighed my options, my phone rang.
The call displayed “Private Number.”
Ordinarily, I would have ignored it. However, years of practice have taught me that individuals held in immigration detention facilities often call from private numbers when seeking legal assistance. Instinctively, I answered.
“Hello sir, good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you up,” a friendly voice said.
My first thought was: If you were truly sorry, you probably wouldn’t be calling this early. But I matched his warmth.
“Not at all,” I replied. “I’m already up.”
“Excellent, sir. This is ABC. I’m not sure if you remember me. About twenty years ago, you helped my family and me when we were facing deportation. You stopped our removal, and today we are all Canadian citizens. I never properly came back to thank you, and I have always felt bad about that.”
His voice carried a mixture of gratitude and humility.
The truth was that I did not remember him. After decades in practice, countless clients, hearings, and cases, faces and names inevitably blur together.
“I honestly don’t recall the details,” I said, “but I am delighted to hear that you and your family are doing well and are now Canadian citizens. That is wonderful news. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “Apart from saying hello, I also wanted to refer a friend to you. His name is KKD. He is facing deportation, and I told him you are the only Nigerian lawyer I trust. To be honest, I usually don’t use Nigerian professionals, but I told him good things about you. Please help him.”
I smiled.
“I suspect the referral was the primary reason for the call,” I joked. “The compliments were simply the appetizer.”
He laughed.
“I understand why you would think that, sir. But I genuinely wanted to reconnect. I promise I’ll check in from time to time.”
“No problem at all,” I replied. “I would be happy to speak with your friend. Feel free to share my contact information. He can call me in about an hour.”
“Thank you, sir. God bless you richly. Please extend my greetings to your family.”
As he prepared to end the conversation, something he had said earlier lingered in my mind.
“Before you go,” I said, “let’s discuss something important. You mentioned that you don’t trust Nigerian professionals.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I’ve had several bad experiences. So now I avoid them whenever possible.”
“Interesting,” I said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in real estate.”
“So, you’re a professional?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And I assume you have clients?”
“Many of them.”
“Do any of those clients happen to be Nigerians?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me, where is your wife from, and what does she do?”
“She’s Nigerian, and she’s a nurse.”
I paused for a moment.
“When you condemn professionals from an entire nation, are you not also condemning yourself and your wife?”
Silence.
Finally, he responded softly.
“I never looked at it that way.”
“You should,” I replied.
“It is unfair and inaccurate to judge millions of people based on the failures of a few. More importantly, I did not actually consider your statement about me a compliment. You attempted to elevate me by putting down an entire group of people who share my nationality—including yourself and your wife.”
“If I wanted to, I could spend hours telling stories of Nigerians who excel in their professions across the world. Walk into hospitals across Canada and you will find Nigerian doctors, nurses, specialists, and administrators making invaluable contributions. The same can be said of law, engineering, academia, technology, business, and public service.”
“When you dismiss Nigerian professionals as a whole, you are also diminishing your own identity and that of your children. They carry Nigerian names and inherit that heritage whether they like it or not.”
“The next time you need my services, simply ask for them. Don’t try to flatter me with a compliment that succeeds only by demeaning an entire people. That is not a compliment I can appreciate.”
There was another pause.
“You’re right, sir,” he said. “I apologize. I honestly never thought about it that way. One day, I would like to take you out for dinner.”
“No worries,” I replied. “Take care of yourself.”
We exchanged our goodbyes, and the call ended.
As I returned to my breakfast dilemma, I reflected on how often people offer compliments that are not really compliments at all. Sometimes praise is wrapped in prejudice. Sometimes admiration is built on the dismissal of others. And sometimes what appears to be appreciation reveals a deeper misunderstanding that needs correction rather than acceptance.
The conversation reminded me of several important truths.
A compliment that demeans others is not a true compliment. You do not elevate one person by degrading an entire group. Genuine praise stands on its own merit.
It is also dangerous to make broad generalizations about any nationality, profession, race, or culture. Every community has both outstanding individuals and disappointing ones. Among Nigerians, Canadians, Americans, Indians, Chinese, Arabs, Europeans, and every other people group, there are excellent professionals and poor professionals. The same is true in law, medicine, business, politics, education, and every other field. Wisdom requires judging people individually rather than collectively.
Many people unknowingly internalize negative stereotypes about their own communities. Over time, such thinking damages self-worth and collective progress. When we repeatedly speak negatively about our own people and nation, we also speak negatively about our children and future generations who will inherit that identity.
At the same time, the call was a reminder that gratitude matters—even years later. One of the most touching aspects of the conversation was that someone remembered an act of help twenty years later. It is never too late to express appreciation.
And finally, not every misconception requires a heated argument. Sometimes a few thoughtful questions are enough to help someone see the weakness in their own reasoning.
Professional excellence knows no nationality. Competence, integrity, and character are individual qualities, not the exclusive property of any race, nation, or culture. We should resist the temptation to stereotype entire groups because of a few bad experiences. Doing so is unfair, inaccurate, and ultimately harmful to everyone involved.
That morning, the referral was appreciated. The gratitude was welcomed. But the most valuable part of the conversation was neither of those things.
It was the reminder that sometimes our greatest service to people is not solving their problems—it is helping them rethink their assumptions.
Johnson Babalola is a Canada based lawyer.
@jblawpro
@jbdlaw
@jbandthings
@jblifecompass
jblawyer2021@gmail.com