The Generational Curse of First-Generation Wealth

On Friday, May 15, 2026, at around 1 in the morning, a young man returned to his father's luxury home in Abuja's Guzape district. He had two women with him. He had been out at a nightclub. He was 21 years old, a corps member serving his country, entrusted with managing real estate worth millions. His father, Chief Godwin Chinedu Adimike, was there waiting. What happened next left Nigeria's business community in shock and posed a question that every wealthy family must eventually face: When you give your children everything you never had, what exactly are you giving them? Chief Adimike was a self-made man. Born in Awka-Etiti, Anambra State, he built his empire from the ground up. He became one of the most respected merchants at Alaba International Market in Lagos, Nigeria's largest electronics market. He owned properties across the country—in Lekki, in Maitama, in Guzape. He shuttled between Lagos and Abuja like a man who had conquered the world. He was generous. During the pandemic, he distributed millions in food and cash to his community. He supported widows. He empowered youth. His name echoed through Awka-Etiti as a man who made it, and made it matter. He had a son. He gave that son everything—education, a business role, an upscale address, responsibility well before most boys would have earned it. The son inherited the lifestyle. He had not inherited the discipline. There is a saying that travels through Nigeria's business community like a warning: "First generation makes it, second generation maintains it, third generation destroys it." Chief Adimike was first generation. His son was supposed to be second.