In the busy, ever-moving streets of Aba, not too long ago, Double Chief Eze was a living legend. A towering man draped in flowing royal robes, adorned with two prestigious chieftaincy titles that commanded reverence. His fleet of cars gleamed under the sun, and his mansion stood tall—filled with laughter, influence, and pride. He was the provider. The protector. The man who rose at 4 AM daily, not for himself, but for his children.
He sold lands. He borrowed heavily. He drained the strength of his youth. While others built empires for themselves, Chief Eze poured everything—his sweat, wealth, and health—into his six children.
“My sons will become doctors and engineers abroad,” he would say with pride. “My daughters will marry kings.”
He gave them the best—elite schools in Nigeria, then opportunities overseas. Even when malaria nearly took his life, he refused proper treatment just to send the last funds for their visas and tuition.
“Papa, thank you,” they would say sweetly over the phone.
He believed them. He smiled through the pain. He thought their success was his reward.
Then everything changed.
Today, Chief Eze is a broken shadow of the man he once was, wandering like a ghost near the same mansion he built in Aba. His once-powerful frame is now frail—reduced to skin and bones, clothed in worn-out wrappers. The royal beads are gone. The respect has vanished. His eyes, once sharp and commanding, are now sunken—filled with endless sorrow.
He now sleeps on a thin mat inside a leaking zinc room behind the compound. The mansion? Locked. His children changed the keys.
They now live in comfort—abroad and in Lagos—posting pictures of luxury, vacations, and champagne on social media, while their father survives on the kindness of neighbors, sometimes eating just once a day.
The most painful part?
When he became critically ill—battling prostate issues, high blood pressure, and a body worn down by years of sacrifice—not one of them came.
Not one.
His eldest son, now a respected doctor in America, sent only a message:
“Papa, manage small money, I’m very busy.”
His daughters, married into wealth, blocked his number.
The ones still in Nigeria? One day, they drove past him. Windows rolled up. Eyes straight ahead. Pretending not to recognize the man who gave them everything.
A once-revered Double Chief—now begging by the roadside, calling their names until his voice gave way.
In a viral video circulating online, the old man sat on the bare ground, shaking, tears streaming down his wrinkled face:
“I did everything for them… everything. Why have they abandoned me like this? Is this what children do? God, please take me… I don’t want to suffer like this anymore.”
His voice cracked. His pain was unbearable.
Men who watched the video wept. Women cried out in anger. The sorrow cut too deep.
Brothers, hear this truth before it’s too late.
Stop believing your children are your retirement plan.
Stop pouring every kobo into them while leaving nothing for yourself.
Stop trusting that “blood is thicker than water” when wealth and distance can change hearts.
Many children, once they succeed, forget the struggle. Forget the sacrifices. Forget you.
Start now:
• Save aggressively for your own future
• Build a home no one can take from you
• Invest in your health—insurance, treatment, rest
• Create something that sustains you beyond your working years
• Teach your children values—but never at the cost of your own survival
Chief Eze’s story is more than tragic—it’s a warning echoing across Aba and beyond.
Don’t wait until old age finds you weak, alone, and forgotten… while others enjoy the life you built with your sweat.
May God comfort Double Chief Eze and touch the hearts of his children.
But for every man reading this—let his tears speak to you.
