Mohbad, Herbert Wigwe, and the Entitlement of African Parents
“My father wanted me to be an engineer, even though I was never good at science.”
“I hate the sight of blood, but my parents said it was medicine or nothing else.”
“Because I was really smart, my father insisted I study science. But I loved literature.”
These statements are often used in jokes by young men and women who, after being compelled to study courses they had no interest in, are beginning to figure out life outside the direct influence of their parents.
But are they truly free from their parents’ shadow, or do they continue living their lives — even in their absence — fulfilling the dreams imposed upon them?
The recent report that Pastor Shyngle Wigwe, the father of the late Chief Executive Officer of Access Holdings, Herbert Wigwe, filed a caveat at the Probate Registry, seeking to challenge the distribution of his son’s estate, highlights a troubling trend: the imposing nature of African parents on their children and their sense of entitlement toward the wealth of their adult offspring.
Reports that the 90-year-old Wigwe was seeking 20 percent of his late son’s estate — allegedly to cover age-related medical expenses — were swiftly debunked by the family.
“To clarify, at no point has Pastor Shyngle Wigwe requested 20 percent of the estate of the late Herbert Wigwe,” the family said in a statement.
But was Pastor Wigwe right to make such a demand, as claimed? The answers would undoubtedly vary — and likely shift with the age and experience of the person answering. However, the more pertinent question remains: Why should a parent demand a portion of their child’s wealth?
In Nigeria, as in much of Africa, respect for elders is a core cultural value. But what constitutes respect for an African parent?
In a typical African home, a “well-raised” child is one who stays silent when elders speak. A child who questions why only daddy and mummy get to eat eggs is labeled rude and greedy. A “good” child knows what to do without needing to ask questions, or even be taught.
For example:
“Mummy, where should I keep it?” asks a well-meaning child.
“Keep it on my head,” responds the mother — often accompanied by a slap.
This popular joke, now widely circulated on social media and amplified by skit makers, reflects the realities of many African children.
Since African elders are believed to “see further sitting down than a child on top of an iroko tree,” children’s opinions are often dismissed, their dreams squashed.
A 2018 study by Modupe Adefeso-Olateju, PhD, and Akinwunmi Akowonjo revealed that nearly a third of Nigerian young adults claimed their parents influenced their choice of study at tertiary institutions.
Adefeso-Olateju and Akowonjo hinted at this trend that needs to be quickly reversed. They wrote;
“Of concern is the finding that interest, passion, and natural inclination are not strong predictors of course selection. This suggests a society where young people lack the agency to pursue their own desires and instead prioritise parental and societal choices.”
Thus, African children, silenced and with their feelings dismissed as trivial, often live out their parents’ dreams throughout adulthood — unchallenged and unquestioned.
This misinterpreted notion of respect breeds self-doubt, low self-esteem, and a culture of unquestioning acceptance. The result is a generation that hesitates to challenge authority figures, whether in the workplace or the political arena.
Parents fail to recognise that each generation faces unique challenges. While children strive to fulfill their parents’ dreams, parents — having shaped their children’s choices, from career paths to marriage partners — often feel entitled to their children’s success.
Joseph Aloba, the father of Ilerioluwa ‘Mohbad’ Aloba, a Nigerian musician whose death in 2023 sparked controversy, provides a troubling example. He repeatedly made demands for justice following his son’s passing but also faced allegations of seeking control over his son’s properties.
Actress Iyabo Ojo revealed after visiting Mohbad’s parents that the dispute between his father and mother revolved around property.
“He (Aloba) wanted me to ask Mohbad’s wife’s mother some personal questions, mostly about money and property,” Ojo said. “He asked why Mohbad bought his property in his son’s name when he had bought his own property in his own name. He found it suspicious.”
Though Aloba described his relationship with Mohbad as close, justifying wearing his son’s clothes after his death, his actions reflect a deeper obsession among parents who feel entitled to their children’s wealth.
In a recent article, a young Nigerian named Daniel shared how he was emotionally blackmailed into paying unsustainable sums to his father, leading him to sever ties with his family.
“Imagine this man once asked for ₦250k because he found land in the village he wanted to buy. Anytime I complained to my mum, she’d say, ‘He’s still your father, and you have to honor him,’” Daniel recounted.
This experience — known as “black tax” — is a reality for many Nigerians. Entitled parents emotionally manipulate their children into providing regular financial support, regardless of the children’s capacity or well-being.
This is not to suggest that the African tradition of caring for aged parents should be abandoned or that the Western practice of leaving elderly parents in care homes should become the norm.
However, African parents must understand that their children never asked to be born. While children may have a moral obligation to care for their parents, there is no law mandating them to will their properties to them or fully fund their retirement.
For young parents, it’s important to know that while you have the legal responsibility to provide for your children, the investment you make in their education or lives, in general, is not a guarantee that they owe you or that their future wealth belongs to you.
As you invest in things like education to give your offspring a better chance in life, also invest in your retirement, so you don’t spend your later years constantly seeking their financial support. Life might happen, and they may not even have anything to give you. Why bet on them?
