Why every Nigerian needs a will, By Olusoji Daomi

Death is one of life’s certainties. Yet, ironically, it is one of the subjects Nigerians discuss the least.

We talk about weddings.

We talk about naming ceremonies.

We talk about housewarming parties.

We talk about promotions and birthdays.

But mention a will and suddenly faces become serious. People become uncomfortable. Some even whisper.

“God forbid.”

Others conclude that anybody writing a will is inviting death.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In fact, one of the greatest gifts a person can leave behind is not necessarily a mansion in Lekki, a block of flats in Abuja, a cocoa plantation in Ondo, or a thriving business in Aba. It is peace.

The kind of peace that allows family members to mourn a loved one without simultaneously fighting over his property.

Across Nigeria, countless families have been torn apart not because the deceased left too little, but because he left too much uncertainty.

The story is familiar.

A respected businessman dies.

Before the funeral tents are dismantled, brothers stop speaking to brothers.

Children begin to suspect stepmothers.

Widows become targets of intimidation.

Uncles suddenly emerge from nowhere with mysterious claims.

Documents disappear.

Locks are changed.

Bank accounts become battlefields.

What should have been a season of mourning becomes a season of litigation.

The tragedy is that many of these disputes could have been avoided by a simple legal document known as a will.

A will is, quite simply, a person’s final written instruction concerning what should happen to his property after death.

It is the voice of a person speaking from beyond the grave.

It is a declaration that says:

“This house should go to my wife.”

“That land should belong to my children.”

“My younger brother should manage this business.”

“This amount should be given to charity.”

In law, the person who makes a will is called a testator.

The word sounds intimidating, but it simply refers to the owner of the property who decides how that property should be distributed after death.

Many Nigerians wrongly believe that a will only concerns wealthy people.

That is another misconception.

A civil servant can make a will.

A trader can make a will.

A teacher can make a will.

A mechanic can make a will.

A farmer can make a will.

If you own anything of value, however modest, a will concerns you.

The issue is not how much you own.

The issue is deciding who should receive what you own.

Imagine a retired teacher in Akure who owns a modest bungalow and a few plots of land.

He has four children.

He also has a younger brother who assisted him financially during difficult periods of his life.

Without a will, disagreements may arise after his death.

One child may claim the entire property.

Another may argue that family tradition gives him superior rights.

The younger brother may insist that he deserves compensation for his sacrifices.

The result is confusion.

The result is bitterness.

The result is conflict.

A properly drafted will removes much of this uncertainty.

It replaces speculation with instruction.

It replaces assumptions with clarity.

It replaces quarrels with certainty.

One of the most important things Nigerians should understand is that a will only becomes effective after death.

Not before.

This means that while the testator remains alive, he retains complete control over his property.

He can amend the will.

He can replace it.

He can cancel it entirely.

The will has no immediate effect during his lifetime.

A man who writes a will today can wake up tomorrow and change his mind about everything written inside it.

The law permits this flexibility because circumstances change.

Children grow.

Relationships evolve.

Properties are acquired and sold.

Life moves.

The law recognizes this reality.

However, not everybody can validly make a will.

The law requires what lawyers call testamentary capacity.

Again, that expression sounds technical, but the idea is simple.

The person making the will must understand what he is doing.

He must understand the nature of his property.

He must know the people who would ordinarily expect to benefit from his estate.

He must be mentally capable of making rational decisions.

A will signed by a person who lacks mental capacity may be challenged and set aside.

Similarly, a will must be voluntary.

No person should be forced, threatened, manipulated, or deceived into making a will.

Imagine a wealthy old man surrounded by greedy relatives who pressure him into signing documents he does not understand.

The law frowns upon such conduct.

A valid will must be the free expression of the testator’s wishes.

This is where another common Nigerian misunderstanding arises.

Many people believe that writing instructions on a sheet of paper and hiding it under a mattress automatically creates a valid will.

Not necessarily.

The law imposes formal requirements.

The document must generally be signed by the testator and witnessed by competent witnesses.

The purpose is to prevent fraud and ensure authenticity.

The law wants certainty.

The law wants evidence.

The law wants to ensure that the document genuinely reflects the wishes of the deceased.

A will also usually appoints an executor.

This person performs a very important role.

Think of the executor as the manager of the deceased person’s final affairs.

When the testator dies, the executor gathers the assets, pays outstanding debts, settles legitimate expenses, and distributes the remaining property according to the instructions in the will.

Without an executor, the administration of an estate can become unnecessarily complicated.

One of the greatest benefits of a will is that it protects loved ones.

Consider a man with young children.

If he dies unexpectedly without making arrangements, uncertainty may arise regarding who should care for those children.

A will can provide guidance.

A will can identify trusted persons.

A will can help ensure continuity and stability.

In many Nigerian communities, inheritance disputes have destroyed family relationships that took decades to build.

Brothers who once shared meals become enemies.

Sisters stop attending family gatherings.

Children grow up hearing stories of betrayal.

Court cases drag on for years.

Properties deteriorate while litigation continues.

Entire estates become trapped in legal limbo.

The irony is painful.

The deceased may have spent a lifetime building wealth only for that wealth to become the source of division after death.

This is why estate planning is not merely a legal exercise.

It is an act of responsibility.

It is an act of love.

It is an act of foresight.

Perhaps the greatest danger arises when a person dies without leaving a valid will.

The law describes such a person as having died intestate.

When this happens, the deceased loses the opportunity to decide how his property should be distributed.

The law steps in.

The law determines who gets what.

And the law’s distribution may not reflect what the deceased would have wanted.

That is why many experienced lawyers often say that if you do not write a will, you are effectively allowing others to make important decisions on your behalf after your death.

For many Nigerians, the conversation about wills is uncomfortable because it reminds them of mortality.

But refusing to discuss death does not prevent death.

Refusing to prepare does not eliminate uncertainty.

Indeed, wisdom lies not in pretending that tomorrow is guaranteed but in preparing responsibly for every possibility.

The truth is that a will is not a preparation for death.

It is a preparation for peace.

It is a shield against confusion.

It is a roadmap for those left behind.

It is one final opportunity to speak clearly when you are no longer physically present to speak at all.

The question, therefore, is not whether death will come.

It will.

The real question is whether, when it eventually comes, your family will inherit clarity or confusion.