Davida Opara graduated with a first-class degree from the Nigerian Law School and was called to the bar this year, yet she has never worked in a law firm. Her only experience with traditional practice was during her externship program, and even then, she knew she wouldn’t be staying.
The courtroom drama, the client meetings, the bragging rights that come with being a hotshot lawyer? She left it all on the table. But here’s the interesting part: she’s making more money than she would have if she had stayed.
“There are several times that I earned more from other things I was doing, than I would have in a non-tier one law firm,” Davida says, describing her work as a development communications professional. Currently, her base income rivals what she would earn at a reputable law firm. But the real difference? The flexibility. It allows for side projects, consulting gigs, grant writing, policy advisory, and content creation. Multiple income streams are flowing in because she has the time to pursue them.
It’s the kind of career move that makes traditional Nigerian parents nervous. Law is supposed to be the dream, the prestige, the security. You don’t just walk away from it, especially not for something as vague-sounding as “Dev Comms.” But Davida did, and she is living proof that the old script about sacrificing money for purpose is outdated.
When the Dream Course Becomes a Nightmare
The wake-up call came early for Davida. She was in her first year, in her first semester at the University of Ibadan. Davida was excelling at everything, particularly her arts and humanities courses. Until she got her Legal Methods results: 46. That was a D; two marks away from failure.
“It just dawned on me: what did I do to myself?” she recalls. That was the moment she knew she was going to pivot, even though she was just getting started. By the time she got to law school, she’d made peace with legal studies enough to graduate with a first class. But the plan to leave traditional practice? That was already set in stone.
The funny thing is that law was never forced on her. Her dad’s first suggestion was actually English Literature. Then communications. The exact thing she’s doing now. “So it’s quite funny that even though I decided on law myself, communication still came back to me,” she says. She’d written her first story at six years old, back when storytelling was just something she did naturally, the way other kids played with toys.
But she’d chosen law because she thought it was the way to make real change in Nigeria. What she discovered in university was that traditional legal practice, with its courtrooms and contracts, wasn’t going to give her the room she needed to actually shift things.
The False Choice Between Purpose and Profit
Here’s where Davida’s story gets interesting for anyone trying to figure out their own career path. She refuses to accept that purpose and money are fighting each other for space in anyone’s life.
“If you are pursuing purpose, so long as you do it diligently, as long as you commit to learning the skill set, you commit to developing the knowledge competencies, technical competencies, you are still going to do well in terms of finances,” she explains. “They are not fighting each other.”
This isn’t just motivational talk. Davida has a strategy, and it’s built on a simple principle. There is money everywhere. The question is whether you have the skills in your area of interest that people are willing to pay for. Program management. Fundraising. Grant writing. Policy advisory. Gender work. Climate communications. Tech policy. Pick your lane, build your expertise, and the money will follow.
Right now, she’s working in development communications, which means she’s essentially marketing development ideas instead of products. She’s worked in climate and green growth, and she’s currently transitioning into tech policy. Her most recent project, the African Privacy Roundup, has her working as communications lead on a continent-wide initiative examining how Africa can take ownership of its digital future, moving beyond the copy and paste of European regulatory frameworks.
“Getting to work on a project that involves multiple researchers across the continent and basically people that on a normal day would have taken me so much to even get in contact with them, and I get to call them team members,” she says. It’s the kind of exposure and network building that rigid law firm schedules wouldn’t allow.
Earlier this year, she was selected as top 20 out of 900 applicants across Africa for a tech policy fellowship with the Africa Centre for Digital Transformation. Three research projects. Continental level work. The kind of opportunity that requires time and flexibility to pursue. “If I were working in a traditional law firm with how rigorous and demanding they are, there is no way I would have been able to participate in that fellowship,” she points out.
The Skill Building Strategy
Davida is frank about one thing she’s noticed with people who say they’re passionate about development. “A lot of them just want to follow noise without getting the skills that will enable them to actually make change.”
This is the part that matters for anyone reading this and wondering if they can afford to chase purpose. The answer, according to Davida, is that you can’t afford not to, but only if you’re serious about building real skills. Technical competencies that organisations will pay for. Knowledge that solves actual problems.
She’s mapping out her financial future with the same precision a corporate lawyer would. She already knows what she wants to earn in the next two years. She knows what skill sets will get her there, and she’s building toward it while doing work that aligns with her values.
“I already know what I’m aiming for in terms of what I want to earn within the next two years, and I already know what that would take,” she says. Her target? An average of $40,000 a year. That’s serious money, and she’s building toward it through purpose-driven work.
The Daily Weight of Choosing Differently
Does she ever feel pressure about proving that non-traditional careers can work?
“Every blessed day,” Davida admits.
“Every single waking day.”
It’s the weight of doing something you haven’t seen many people do. The difficulty of finding mentors. The constant question of whether the risk will pay off. But she finds inspiration in people like Chimamanda Adichie, who left medicine to study creative writing. “It takes a lot of courage to make some kinds of decisions, particularly when you are doing something that is not often done.”
There are things she misses about law. The bragging rights, obviously. But also the technical courtroom knowledge, the client interactions, that specific excitement of a first court appearance that her colleagues talk about. She gets “quite green with jealousy” when she hears their stories. But not enough to go back.
Because at the end of the day, for Davida, it comes down to living a life that feels whole. “My life should be lived in unison,” she explains. “I don’t separate what I believe is my core purpose from what should earn me money.”
For young Nigerians scared of choosing purpose over money, her advice is simple. First, figure out your value system. If money is what makes you feel valuable, chase it. No judgment. But if you’re one of those people who stay awake thinking about how to fix Nigeria’s problems, if that discontent is what keeps you going even when you want to retreat and be lazy, then pursue it. Just make sure you’re building the skills that will let you earn while you’re at it.
“There is money everywhere,” Davida insists. “Just get the skill sets in those areas you are interested in. That should make you the money you’re looking for.”
It’s not purpose over money. It’s purpose and money. And if her story proves anything, it’s that you don’t have to choose.
