In the year 2000, when Dr. Nelson Mandela and his wife, Dr. Graça Machel, launched the Global Movement for Children, I was deeply inspired. I believed wholeheartedly in the ten thematic areas that formed the foundation of the campaign. The question burning in my heart was simple yet profound: How do I express this belief? How do I show my support?

I decided to do what I knew best, write.
I poured myself into a series of essays and poems, crafting one or two pieces on each of the ten themes. Every word carried my conviction that children’s rights were not abstract ideals but living principles demanding attention, advocacy, and action.

When I completed my work, eighteen poems and twenty essays in all, I felt I had produced something of both artistic and moral worth. I wanted the world to see it. Naturally, I thought of UNICEF, the global voice for children. I imagined they might help publish the collection, perhaps even with a foreword by Nelson Mandela himself.

With youthful confidence and great expectation, I neatly typed and bound the pieces and took them to the UNICEF office in Lagos. I was ushered into the office of a senior official. She received me politely, flipped through my manuscript without much expression, then looked up and said the words that would sting for years:

“UNICEF does not sponsor projects it has not commissioned. Have a good day.”

Her tone was final, cold, almost dismissive. I left her office that afternoon feeling crushed. But in that disappointment, I made a silent vow: if UNICEF would not commission my work, I would commission myself.

Three years later, in 2003, I began writing a weekly column in the Law Page of the Daily Independent newspaper, edited by veteran journalist, now a legal practitioner Onyema Omenuwa focusing on child rights, particularly the newly enacted Child’s Rights Act of 2003, a legislation I had personally advocated for. My contribution to its passage was formally acknowledged by the National Assembly in an official letter addressed to me.

It was the first attempt by any legal practitioner in Nigeria to dissect the law for the purpose of enlightenment, both for members of the legal profession and the general public.

For fifty-two consecutive weeks, one full year, I wrote without missing a single edition, until the newspaper discontinued the column. Each article was an act of faith, discipline, and quiet defiance. Unknown to me, someone was reading.

In 2005, I received an unexpected email from a UNICEF senior staff member in Abuja, Dr. Geoffrey Njoku. He introduced himself as a follower of my column. He asked, “Do you work for Daily Independent?” I said no. “Are you being paid for these articles?” Again, I said no. Then came the line that changed everything:

“I have read your work for fifty-two weeks, and I believe you are the kind of person we would like to work with.”

That email marked the beginning of a professional relationship that has endured ever since. My first UNICEF assignment was to train leading journalists and editors across Nigeria on how to report the rights of children as guaranteed under the Child’s Rights Act 2003.

From rejection to partnership, what a divine irony!

Today, as I look back, I see how rejection was only redirection. The same organization whose door once closed in my face later opened its heart to my work. But the real lesson was not about UNICEF. It was about purpose.

When people reject you, the work of your hands will not.

When the world turns away, diligence will turn destiny toward you.

When you stay true to your calling, rejection becomes refinement.

As Scripture reminds us, “Do you see a man diligent in his work? He shall stand before kings and not obscure men.” (Proverbs 22:29)

So, to anyone who has faced rejection, hold your ground. Keep sowing your seed. When the heavens are full, the rain will surely fall.

The stone the builders once rejected can, and often does, become the chief cornerstone.

Have an INSPIRED weekend with the family