Growing up, one of the people I admired the most was my uncle. He was my dad’s brother, and for a long time, I saw him as someone I wanted to be like. He was generous, always had money to spend, and never hesitated to give me something whenever I visited him. Back then, as a child, my perspective on people was very simple—if you were nice and had money, then you were a good person. And my uncle checked those boxes. In fact, I liked him so much that I preferred him over my own dad.
Unlike my dad, who was strict and sometimes refused to give me money, my uncle was different. Whenever I was broke, I would visit him, and he would sort me out without asking too many questions. To me, he was the ideal example of what success looked like—he had money, a flashy lifestyle, and a generous heart. But as I grew older, I started to see things differently. Maturity has a way of opening your eyes to things that were once hidden, and for me, it was the realization that my uncle was not exactly the man I thought he was.
The first thing that changed my perspective was how I found out he lived his personal life. He had many wives and concubines, which, at first, I didn’t think much of. But then I heard that he had several children—some of whom he didn’t even take care of—and that hit me differently. I had always thought of him as a responsible man, but how could someone be so rich and yet abandon his own children? It was a hard truth to accept, but it made me start questioning the way I saw him.
Then, there was his drinking habit. I had always known that he drank, but I never really understood the depth of his addiction until I got older. He was an alcoholic, and it wasn’t just something he did socially—he drank excessively, to the point where it affected his health. He had been drinking since his younger years, and later on, his drinking led to kidney problems. If that wasn’t bad enough, he also contracted HIV due to his reckless lifestyle. When I heard about his health issues, I was shocked. But even more painful was realizing that all of it was a direct result of the choices he made.
At that moment, I knew he wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to emulate. I used to admire him because he was rich and generous, but now I saw the bigger picture. He was reckless with his life, irresponsible as a father, and even though he had money, he didn’t use it in a way that truly mattered. Because, really, what’s the point of having wealth if you can’t even take care of your own family? What’s the point of living lavishly if it only leads to a tragic end?
Eventually, he passed away in his early fifties due to his health complications, and his death only confirmed what I had already realized—he was not the role model I once thought he was. It made me even more sure of the kind of life I don’t want to live. I don’t want to be someone who looks successful on the outside but is filled with problems underneath. I want to be the kind of person who takes care of my responsibilities, who stays disciplined, and who doesn’t let bad habits dictate my future.
His story is a lesson for me, and even though he’s gone, the impact of his choices still lingers. His life taught me that money isn’t everything, and being generous doesn’t automatically make you a good person. Character, responsibility, and discipline matter just as much—if not more.
It’s a harsh truth, but sometimes, the people we look up to aren’t as great as we once thought which is okay. What matters is that we learn from their mistakes and use those lessons to shape our own lives for the better.
Thanks for reading.