REALITY-TV MAY YET SAVE THE BAR

I am in love with the movie The King’s Speech. It is the best movie in the world. To be honest though, I have not seen it yet. But every other person has, and they are all in love with it. I love the movie for what it achieved. Overnight; reliving the agonizingly gradual mastery of a royal-stutter becomes a massive global tonic. That is pure genius.

However on a closer look, it can easily move one into a state of introspective stock-taking. How many of what we consider our lives’ highlights would inspire more than a passing interest from outsiders? Let alone, our mundane struggles. How many times have you pushed your exciting photos into the hands of friends and regaled them with explanatory details on each shot, only to have them flee at the slightest leeway? How many people genuinely stay awake as you recount your running battle with ulcer, or your eventual victory over math? Maybe you would need to be a king first, or maybe it just requires publicity, of Hollywood proportions. (Or even Nollywood these days).

Well, deal with it, all ordinary persons. Ordinary persons like me…me? 

No, I am not an ordinary person, I am a lawyer. And for one in a profession desperately needy of crowd attention, I suffer even more.

Like every lawyer, I have read books, useful books. My brain swims in the famed Pierian Spring. There is very little under the sun that I have not encountered in my studious voyages. I consider myself a talker too, the one with all the stories and all the jokes. Well, that was before I observed that the reputation is restricted to the legal fold.

I had ruled my Uncle’s wife an unfortunate nit-wit when I noticed she makes funny faces whenever my back is turned. A detail revealed by the shiny mantel-piece in their living room. Her teenage children are loads smarter; they squeal in glee when I deliver yet another wicked legal punch-line at dinner, their brains match mine, wave length-for-wave-length. Or so I thought…Until a few weeks ago: a carelessly placed Blackberry, no password, my lawyer-inquisitiveness, and I saw the real source of their laughter at my jokes: Pings hastily exchanged under the table “Tell me what bores more than a yam beetle: Uncle Massai!” That was from Sammy, the one they say aspires to be a rap-artiste. And the sister concurs with a big LOL. I no longer go to my uncle’s. Poor man, no wonder he exited so early; who would bear having his pure genes so polluted by a spouse of dubious grey-matter.

Again, I digress. Digression, according to my more cerebral audience, is my best trick. “It injects versatility into a conversation” my colleague Sarah had once enthused as I blushingly handed her a Legal Opinion I had stayed up all night to help her prepare. She will go places, that lady.

But back to the topic, it really saddens me to know that if the movie above had been titled “The Lawyer’s Speech”, it would premiere to halls of vacant seats. The tragedy lies in the fact that, truly, if anybody make speeches worth listening to, Lawyers it should be! But nobody wants to listen when we talk, unless they absolutely have to.

Our cinemas- the courtrooms are bare. Even the litigants stay off. I have a feeling tennis would overtake football for popularity if the use of “court” was minimized. If they must be bought, legal publications are probably useful only in pharmaceutical stores…as sedatives.

Nobody invites us to be Masters of Ceremonies (I hope they still call them that) at colourful events and parties. The core of our social oratory is at funerals- the dead can’t be more asleep of course.

Worse, that obnoxious practice, blogging has pulled the rug further beneath us. Ad hoc Law reporters are now born every day. Not smart, but with access to smart-technology. In half the time it takes to flip through our large volumes, they click the download and tweet a link, spiced with cheap rhetoric and draw the entire crowd. We have fought bravely, but gradually, even the Law is seduced to the I.T. pavilion.

Yes, we have dealt the hand of living off the combative aspects of human nature, but modern life is moving for a checkmate. All the jokes are on us, we are colourless, we are dry, we are lonely. Words may have tried, but they are dying. It is the age of abbreviations. No… abbreviations are even growing outmoded, people now write in pictorials!

Pictures and TV have changed reality. Reality shows (Is there a bigger contradiction in terms!) have come to stay. Sadly, we are barred from their juicy reach (no adverts!). But wait a minute…think Boston Legal, and the rest of them, and voila! 

Therein lies our salvation! Reality TV!

They roll out in their numbers, subtle brand promos: the Scout, the Debater, the Search, the Heir…When you consider the spark they kindle in our huge population, and the stiff competition by professionals to become Apprentices, or even Dragons, it can only go a step worse…The Lawyer.

Procedure: Trigger off a nation-wide search process, sell entry forms, establish a consortium of banks, the media and the Bar (no Silks…please). A huge media-covered selection process (this is where the judges come in); and the Lawyer’s Den is ready to be unveiled.

Two dozen young aspirants. The winner becomes, well…a Lawyer. (The dream prospect of a Law School waiver will sell, trust me). Content should be varied, everything that obtains in the real world would be thrown in. (Lawyers are snubbed because we always appear larger than life). The show will have it all then, arguments, fights, mischief, romance, conspiracies, parties (not dinners!), scandals…yes scandals sell too; they are an admission of humanness.

Now, unlike what obtains in the courts where the slightest whisper attracts a contempt-charge, the audience can vote and freely pass comments. Their ratings will also extend to the judges and eviction is the immediate consequence of unpopularity.

Eight long weeks each edition will last. Five yearly editions; each producing a winner who represents the universal notion of an ideal lawyer. This personna gets integrated into the profession and among other prizes, wins an entitlement to vote out any five existing lawyers from the Roll. 

As the show grows, the viewers can demand that some existing lawyers be invited, nay, compelled to play. These will endure the same audience appraisal, and for every edition, twenty three lawyers will be debarred…democratically.

Many years will roll by before any impact is noticed from this process. But gradually and surely like the King’s stutter, the old stock of dry and boring lawyers will pass away. They will be replaced by substitutes who ooze mass-appeal, who will re-instill confidence in the Bar. Increased tolerance means increased clientele. Law becomes a competitive profession after all in today’s world.

Time will tell. At the end, lawyers will need no further convincing that life in front of cameras is actually the reel deal.

I rest my thesis.


First Published in Thisday Newspapers: March 22, 2011

IT IS TIME TO GET A SUBSTITUTE FOR THE BENCH!

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Comrades; worthy representatives of the Legislature and the Executive, please pay me heed in this urgent clarion call.

History, aided by that meddlesome French Baron (let the man who can, pronounce his last name unimpeded) has against good judgment pitched us in a state of needless rivalry. Not surprisingly, the wave has struck a right chord with the ever gullible common man.

Of course, many have ignored the Baron’s self-righteous posturing and stuck to the good old method of merging our powers as one and the same. Sadly, our State abandoned that progressive course after a tantalizingly short-lived experiment and adopted this journey into the grotesque (note how well the word rhymes with the Baron’s last name). A process that stifles the ideal partnership; and the many potentials for economy of scale. Who needs checks and balances when you can get cheques and even more rounded balances within this partnership? And who says account-ability must be conjoined as one word?

Such ugly phrases as probity, petitions, impeachment, should be extinguished, and Veto put to the sword. Unfortunately, we have stayed silent for so long, and are poised to suffer the ills of this tragic preference.

To escalate the anomaly, the State provides a Third Arm to oversee our acts! Now, how further denigrating can the situation get, especially when this intrusive Arm is immunized with ‘independence’? Yes! You can spend long months agonizing over a legislation; which in the ideal partnership, I would cheerily assent (especially if it creates yet another Agency to douse the needs of our faithful). And what happens next? It is struck off as null and void, or at best, dealt the patronizing blue pencil treatment. This, by the Arm of busybodies!

Going further, let us not forget that this Arm, emboldened by its independence from checks, struts about with the grossly immodest title, Supreme, affixed to its apex institution. Now, dare any of us speak of a supreme Legislature or a supreme Executive and see if the common man (that accursed lot!) will not instantly yelp of a coup?

And talking of a coup; if only those uniformed fellows constrained their emasculation to this Third Arm, they would provide a panacea…No! They are not an option!

And yet another liberty this Arm takes: Does anybody get elected to positions therein? No! They simply brow-beat us in a ratification exercise that is at best, mere formality. But we must necessarily endure that grueling process of courting voters, and worse, also suffer the humiliation of tribunals under the same Arm!

The bitter truth stares us in the face: We are powerless before them! They co-opt the common man’s sympathies by sniffling that they are the weakest in the midst of two bullies, and that loathsome horde wields unquestioning mass support for them as a result.

But comrades; are all hopes dead?

Recently our State has been bedeviled by happenings that can only be interpreted as ‘signs of the times’

These happenings have taught me that signs of the times are not usually cataclysmic horrors. Sometimes they wear a cheery look; confirming the projections of a beatific hereafter as a quite feasible possibility after all.

Have you not noticed? They have risen against one other, our common foe! Their pretences at sainthood have worn thin, and revealed the typical human within. They now fight for the prize, and how brazen their battle is! Name callings, blackmail, calumny; the works! Those of you who cherish a good bottle can agree that there is no bench-mark for a typical bar-room scuffle. These folks are no different.

In the past, they accused us of corruption, but this has grown stale to the common man. Thus, the sheer novelty of this in-fighting will overwhelm them. There is truly no spectacle as rapturous as the sight of a fallen angel.

So, what do we do? Stand and watch? No no!

We shall inject a fine spray of oil to the troubled fires, and let the common man see that his last hope has crumbled from hidden rot. In our magnanimity, we shall certainly not leave them hope-less. We will simply make them hope for less, henceforth.

First step: From the upper chambers of the Legislature, we shall instigate an outcry, and make ostensible moves to ‘get to the root of the matter.’  Oh, yes there is an intermediate Council that will scream of independence, but riding on the dazed dismay of the common man, we shall prevail.

Mind you, they will kick and fight, because while our immunity is not absolute, theirs continue till death. Whenever they swivel that gavel, they feel like gods. 

They will claw and bite. They will brandish the grundnorm as a shield, and lead the entire pack of the unruly bar baying for blood.

And this is when we win! We shall yell that there is a loophole which the system has hidden for so long. Who will judge the judges? Do we fold our hands and let the sanctity of the state fall under the weight of life-time immunity? And we shall announce to the common man: “No, brethren, the powers to judge them is neither in the hands of Legislature nor the Executive, they are entirely yours! Yours, Mr. Common man!”

The common man (in his fortunate gullibility) will nod maniacally at this logic which for once will empower him, not through the arguments of a counsel, but directly. We shall spew forth flowery speeches of betrayal. We might even get a courageous commoner to self-immolate to the rhythm of our chants: “They are supreme! They are infallible! They have betrayed your trust!”

And the fires will start burning. For once in our half-century, we shall be blameless of the usual cynical accusations. We will become the poor misunderstood victims, who do all the thankless work, while the Arm grows fat on its bench… merely interpreting.

No time will be more opportune to rekindle our union.

All this while, our chants will rise in crescendo: “The elections are your will! Let the numbers show your supremacy, not some Supreme institution that blocks your right despite possible stirrings of dissatisfaction!”

And you know common man is a sucker for clichés. So we shall coin a few: Have you made for ourselves small gods, in whose Case there is No Appeal?

We shall tell them how flexible administrative tribunals are; or better still the ideal out-of court settlement: membership of the right parties. We shall teach them the right allegiances, and instruct them on how compromise is preferable to years of drawn out bitterness and expenses incurred in seeking dubious justice.

So now, let the war begin! Let the press flow in grimy inks of red alert. Let the chambers of the Legislature reverberate in shocked disbelief. Let the Executive issue statements of grief and sorrow.

The good Lord, in his wisdom gave us humans two arms, to function in symmetry. A third arm is clearly an excess!

Remember, the common man is soccer crazy too, so we shall complete the seduction with a well couched slogan:

“It is time to get a Substitute for the Bench!”

Thank you all!




First Published in Thisday Newspapers: March 1, 2011

Understanding the Rights of a Leftist…

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A quiet lawyer is a classic oxymoron. Better still, a curiosity. It gets even curiouser and curiouser (apologies Miss Alice) when the quiet lawyer is also… a lady.

She sat alone, unmoved by the surrounding din. No it wasn’t a riot; it was break-time at another of those Law conferences. I had just shaken off the claws of a friendly colleague, and was trying to clear the buzz his circuitous arguments had implanted in my eardrums.

She sat. No drinks, no snack. Young and well-dressed; but with that subtle wall of frost that constrained admirers to a safe distance. 

I pulled out the chair beside her, ignoring the fact that I was being ignored. With these private persons, the prospect of good company is usually limited, but when they are lawyers, the novelty is gripping. I silently savoured it…

‘I think that last speaker was way off the mark, don’t you?’ The voice startled me. I turned sideways and encountered cool brown eyes.

‘I beg your pardon.’ I failed woefully at replicating her poise.

Her voice was strangely even. It took the shine off the huskiness, giving an oddly ventriloquist feel. ‘I mean the SAN that spoke of Democracy as the last hope of civilization. His premise was all wrong. Democracy as we see it today is actually a scam on human rights and good governance’

‘I find it hard to agree with you’ I smiled. ‘Everybody knows Democracy is oftentimes a huge pain in the neck. But exploring its alternatives may not leave one a neck in the first place.’

She smiled too. ‘Do you really believe that?  Or is it because our profession has no place in any other government system, that our voices usually soar the highest in eulogizing the so-called government of the people?’

‘It is not merely so-called, it is real. Government by a functional Constitution’ I was gradually getting fired up.

‘Oh come on! You and I know that the Constitution merely stipulates the rules of engagement between the State and the rest. And the scales are not equally balanced.’

‘Again, I disagree. The spirit of the Constitution comes alive through us; the lawyers.’

‘Really?’ It was a husky whisper of mockery.

 ‘Yes.’ I chimed. ‘Our practice is actually summarized in the phrase: rights and their protection.’

‘Oh come on, what rights?’

‘I will not tell a lawyer what rights are…you know them yourself’ I was getting irritated at her deliberate aloofness.

‘That is the point.’ Her tone remained oddly even. ‘Rights as we know them today are actually part of the grand conspiracy to deny them’

‘Now, you have lost me’

‘It’s ok. The picture is all there, but you choose not to see it. The Constitution you hail does not contain any right which is not immediately snatched back in the next sentence. Take for instance, the Right to Life. What does it protect you from? Violent death only, not so?’ It does not add anything to your life, and thus offers no protection from death by starvation or neglect. It dangles your basic needs tantalizingly before you, and then goes ahead to brand them non-justiciable. Humans need food, shelter and clothing.  If you cannot provide these, you should at least give them education to curb their natural resistance. Deny them this as well, and the State sits on a landmine.’  She paused to flick a stray strand of hair from her face. ‘Now, you talk of Fair hearing. The common man walks into a courtroom, and watches the judge throw away certain reprieve for technicalities. If he raises a protesting voice, he runs the risk of a new punishment… for contempt. Yes, that is how much his value is held in contempt; at the whim of the Bench.’

‘There is a right to Appeal, remember’ I quickly threw in.

‘Of course there is, with leave of the court.’ She scoffed. ‘Back to your touted rights; I can toil, save and own land, no doubts. But in the same breath, that right is snatched from me on whatever grounds the Executive of the day deems public policy.’

‘The general rights of society outweigh that of a mere individual; that needs not be over flogged.’

‘And who is ‘society’ if not a conglomerate of the individual sub-units? That is the precise problem with your Democracy. It focuses on the majority…and the voices of the minority might as well be the clucks of chickens.’

‘But there is a specified Constitutional medium for the minority to take over power: Votes! And we are at hand to protect these, even post-elections’

‘You merely recite the rote; that in itself being the bane of the lawyer. A bloated sense of importance at the crucial services we deliver to humanity makes us deaf to the creaks and groans underneath the system. And it continues, until the entire world is afire.’

‘I can’t believe you…you actually preach anarchy?’ I mustered my most self-righteous glare.

‘I don’t need to. It is already happening. Today the world burns; disaster is no longer remote, but comes in a chain reaction. Info-tech breaks down territorial borders and reveals the global master-plan of devious leadership. Apocalyptic writings on the Wall are no longer supernatural, they are on Facebook. Support is no longer built by dispersible crowds on hidden street corners, it is built online…’

‘And these global arsonists; what do they advocate...?’

‘A return of power to the individual; the State has failed.’

‘A turn to scattered fragments of selfish interests…?’

‘No, that is what presently obtains in the State. The new trend is for people to actually rule themselves.’

‘Funny, but is present rulership composed of spirits?’

‘No. But in its current design, the state is a faceless institution, and hides the evil components. It needs to be given a multiple face: everyone personally accountable for their acts.’

‘A voyage into the absurd…what next will you advocate… kill all lawyers?’

‘No, no. Just have their tongues out- Cicerosque’

‘That’s not funny’

‘Well, Justice will be better served in silence. The noise we bring gets distracting.’

‘So how will people enforce their rights when lawyers grow mute?’

‘Simple. By common agreement’

‘No umpires?’

‘None’

‘Fists and knives then…?’

‘At least those are more honest than stabs of manipulative counsel and pliant judges’

‘You know, I can have you arrested for these views.’

‘Go ahead then…You only prove my point better: Mr. Human Rights’

‘So how do you propose to solve society’s issues in this new freer world?’

‘Simple. No more elections. No Executive. No National Assembly. A decentralized referendum’

‘Still a rule of the majority, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, of real people not congressmen.’  I had no answer to that.

She continued. ‘The police disbanded, armed forces, same. If we don’t have them, we won’t need them.’

‘Oh, paradise on earth then..? You describe post-Armageddon?’

‘No, it is easily achievable in our lifetimes. The State steadily crumbles our humanness. The movement is to ensure something is left.’ Her eyes had acquired a glaze.

‘Maybe we need to get back to the hall’

‘May I have your card?’

‘Oh…I’ve run out of them…so sorry’ (My wallet swarmed with my business cards)

‘Ok then’ She whispered airily. ‘See you at the other side.’

I stood, and politely waited for her. She stretched under the table and picked up a set of crutches and struggled up. I caught a glimpse through the long skirt- her two legs were withered.

She propped herself on the crutches and smiled up at me.  ‘Oh, don’t look so stricken. Happened when I was still a teenager. Mum and dad could not afford the surgery, and the State said: sorry, Healthcare is not a right.’

I stood, staring at her retreating figure and listening to the fading click of iron crutches on the marbled tiles.


THE END


First published in Thisday Newspapers: February 8, 2011

INSERTING A LEGAL ‘CLAUSE’ TO SANTA...

Illustration by Sugabelly 

Nobody believes in Santa anymore...or maybe, it is just that nobody is courageous enough to voice out that belief. How can we talk of outgrowing ‘stage Santa’ when experience shows that free gifts become scarcer with the advancing years; and thus more treasured. I think that, as surely and as inexplicably as snow (and harmattan) punctually herald Christmas-tide; that portly model of geniality must be given his right of place during the celebrations.

Sadly, Santa in the face of dwindling popularity has either uncloaked and transformed to a normal, unhappy mortal; or simply soared to yet undiscovered galaxies of the North Pole. Or maybe still...has retreated resignedly to the suburbs of our imaginations.

But in truth, it is difficult to deal with his absence. The yearly re-creations of his image buttress the reality that we cannot use maturity as an excuse to wish away Father Christmas; and thus; murder Christmas. Therefore, if only we are bold enough to strain the borders of rationality, Santa can return again...and grace our world with his pleasant deep throated laughter filling us once more with the harmless innocent cravings that have grown extinct in an increasingly humourless world...

But then; we reckon without the Law...and Lawyers.

There are certain legal questions that would need to be successfully addressed before Santa is re-admitted in today’s hyper-civilization.

Already, the odds do not help his case. He wears a cloak and a...wig. And he steers all attention to himself with their bright colours, as opposed to the grim dourness of the lawyers’. Maybe that explains the origins of the traditional closure of Law Courts at Yuletide. As the melodious bells of Pied-Piper Santa introduce an enchanting truce in human relations, lawyers are compelled to involuntary idleness. Surely, you do not delude yourself that the religious significance of the season extends to the legal folk as well.

So the cross examinations commence- What are the contents of those bulging bags? What statutory authority issued the ‘standard testing’ for them? And, being Imports; have they been properly taxed and necessary Duties paid? For example, if some daft believer wishes for a fairly used car, would Santa’s obliging the request not tantamount to smuggling? ...Santa is a smuggler then...?  If that is established as a fact, of course he would be put away for a long time.

Oh! Smart fellow; he tries to evade further taxations by couching his goods as ‘gifts’. Ok; let’s see how he prepares proper deeds of gift to his teeming fans. He would need a lawyer for that; right?  Can’t the gift clause be defeated by the perfectly logical argument that installing a week-long holiday in his honour is adequate consideration by the recipients, thus creating multiple contractual relationships? The follow-up question once this is conceded as fact would then be: Do the goods meet their description as contained in the respective wish-lists? Is there adequate fitness for purpose and merchantable quality? What are the Insurance covers, especially in the light of his precarious delivery mode? What jurisdiction do the parties submit to if there are conflicts? Does Santa’s native origin reflect a Reciprocal Judgement enforcement concord with those of the various offerees?  

Further precautions would also be imperative. First, the reindeer must be withdrawn!  Its use constitutes a violation of various sovereign airspaces; and until a comprehensive international framework is developed to cover UFOs, Santa must fly in air-planes. He must endure the routine of body scans; and his bags thoroughly rifled through. Sorry; no wishes of cologne, deodorant, shampoo or liquid stain-removers this year.

Now, this is actually where his problems would only have started.  For one, his ancestry is doubtful; though he claims to be Dutch. Whatever though! Within our shores, he is an expatriate. Where is his Business permit?  What Visa does he bear? Has he been cleared by the National Investment Promotion Commission? Has the issue of Expatriate quota been addressed?  How many indigenous employees does he propose to recruit, considering the inevitability of registering a corporate entity?

And now, that dubious mode of ingress he adopts...floating in through chimneys! What honest man does that? And this, while the household sleeps! There are Legal provisions on house breaking and burglary; and he should not literally soar above the Law!

Child Right activists would also have a few things to say about the practice of cuddling kids on his laps and buying them over with gifts of candy...all the while with a twinkle in the eye. Viewed with the discerning eyes of a lawyer, that ho-ho-ho roar and belly-smacking attain a disturbing dimension at such scenarios. Therefore, he needs to satisfy beyond any doubts that he is not a previous offender.

And Alas! He wears five golden rings...on his left hand and is known to frequently hum a tune about Nine-Ladies-Dancing.  He must issue authentic certifications on exactly how many Mrs Claus-es are in the picture. While it would be naked contempt to celebrate a monogamous faith with a polygamist in the lead, the Lawyers’ concern is the Matrimonial Causes Act which by virtue of his preferred season of appearance is irrebuttably implied to bind him.

Now- those numerous trees that are bulldozed at his behest; complete with shiny decorative rays of dubious radiation levels? He would need to scale through proper Environmental Impact Assessments and other relevant statutory tests before such practice is allowed to continue.  

Finally, it is likely that the custom of writing Wish Letters will be reawakened, complete with other options enabled by the Information technologies: mobile telephony and other wireless media. It would be suggested that a stakeholder enquiry on what these portend for Cybersecurity efforts of various states be held. There is no telling what items a terrorist group will prefer; and Santa willingly oblige. He should therefore agree unreservedly for round-the-clock surveillance to be mounted on his every correspondence.

Now, this is the moment the reader tosses the paper aside with a snort, and a muttered curse on kill-joy gentlemen of the Law.

Well, well, have your celebrations, but there is an overriding obligation to the rules of modern society...and its cogent fears.

And you must concur that the above requisites do not substantially derogate from the traditional Santa-clause.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!


Published in Thisday Newspapers:December 21, 2010- http://www.thisdaylive.com/articles/inserting-a-legal-clause-to-santa-/71622/

In defence of the Prosecuting Counsel...

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Not being a Litigation Lawyer has many hazards. From the embarrassing inability to independently drape oneself in the elaborate legal toilette; to the pitiful image one presents as cerebral analyses of court orders, motions and certioraris erupt in the gathering of lawyers.

And more humiliatingly; you are de-barred quite literally during court proceedings and have to share seats with the intellectual hoi polloi in the public gallery. You do not even get to announce appearance and merely get introduced as ‘legal officer’. 
My best efforts at injecting every importance into that title usually fall flat, in the face of my more appropriately costumed colleagues. I try to remedy this by taking seats closest to the bar- that inner enclave in courtrooms, that demarcates the real actors from the spectators- and wear a poker-face to sieve the class of commoners I would be constrained to sit with for the day. Again, this ploy fails woefully when the court is filled; a litigant (or litigant’s family) wedges in beside you- ‘Abeg, bros u fit shift small...?’ The nerve! 
He settles in, and then flashes you a wide grin of plebeian camaraderie which interprets as ‘we may not be so learned, but at least we share their court’. Most times the Judge chooses this period to appear and thus cuts short the biting adjectives you would have instantly deployed in cutting the oaf to size. And he will continue the mannerisms throughout the proceedings; laughing loudly at wise-cracks, and nodding vigorously in your direction, ‘Kai! these lawyers are too much! My broda, you dey follow me see, so?’ That’s another big disadvantage of not being in litigation: I cannot determine offhand whether self defence avails for unprovoked verbal assault!

I come into the court today and brace myself for yet another bad day; moreso as there are about six criminal cases before ours. And since misfortunes never come singly, the court is filled and I am squeezed between a horde of sniffling, teary eyed females; apparently relatives of one of the accused persons.

Struggling to mitigate the discomfort; I let my eyes settle on the state counsel; who by the way is in charge of all the criminal prosecutions for the day. I naturally assume that being involved for so long in the business of jailing people, and advocating for the maximum justice untempered by mercy with a blood-thirsty tenacity would leave the average prosecutor gnarled and wizened. I generally picture them as grumpy old fellows with bulging red eyes and thickly veined necks; the grim reapers. But no, the state counsel on duty today, rose, erect in healthy youthfulness and smiled, I searched for signs of morbidity beneath, none. He had all the transparent cheeriness of a fulfilled worker...and in a firm voice that carried through all sections of the muted chambers, proceeded on his mission for the day.

I instantly warmed up to him, but I reckoned without one of the women sniffling beside me (It turns out she is spouse to one of the accused- charged for some complicated transaction gone awry) ‘God will punish this man for me! The wicked will never go unpunished!’ she kept hissing under her breath, shaking her knees in an ominous rhythm. I quickly silenced her with a muttered warning of her inevitable fate if the judge overheard her. Smart woman, she evidently understands that marriage vows do not cover “In freedom and in chains...” and promptly shut her mouth.

She looked quite schooled and well groomed, so I was curious at her reaction and walked up to her during the short recess. She was leaning on a wall, haughtily disengaged from a small crowd of murmuring well-wishers:

‘Madam; I am a lawyer. Please accept my sympathies, but your husband’s case doesn’t look so bad. And there is really no need getting all worked up at the prosecuting counsel; he is just doing his job’

‘His job?!’ She blazed ‘Why does he struggle so persistently to have them behind bars? Is that what he went to school to go and study Law for? His mates are selling properties and sealing big deals while he makes a wretched living from bringing out the worst in human nature...’

‘How so, madam?’

‘Can’t you see? Look at that old judge! He appears quite compassionate, but that wicked counsel is quick to raise fresh objections and suppress any stirrings of pity he may have...and you say he doesn’t take it personal!’

‘Madam, you judge him harshly. Somebody has to maintain the necessary balance of morality within the society, and it cannot be achieved without the fear of legal reprisal.’

‘Why then does he flog it too hard, why?’ Her voice broke again.

‘Because justice must be obtained at whatever cost...’ I was treading dangerous grounds.

‘Even at the cost of a man’s happiness? Is that the horrible thing they teach you people in Law School?’ She shook her head sadly.

‘No. We learnt how to employ our skills in various field, and we use it largely to chase money and glory. But that man you abuse is more courageous and selfless than most of us and uses his purely for justice’

‘It is not courage... he just wants the easy protection of government work’

‘You may be right, madam...but imagine if he weren’t there...every thief, arsonist and rapist will have their way and the Law will be helpless. He sets societal order in motion...’

‘Why doesn’t he leave it to the police...?’

‘Do you in all honesty prefer ‘Police Justice...?’

She paused awhile. ‘Well, I admit, that sounds like a contradiction.  But I think being a state counsel is the scum of Law Practice. I can’t help my intense ill-feelings towards him; and I am sure all the relatives of the people he sends to jail are united in that sentiment...how terribly burdened his soul will be!’

‘He is already over-burdened with the standard of proof the law requires of him...’

 ‘Which is?’

‘Establishing guilt beyond reasonable doubt...and these expensive lawyers you have hired to defend your husband are there to make that unattainable. So the odds are, they will plant adequate doubt in the judge, and your husband walks away, free.’

‘But I know my husband...he is not a bad person.’

‘The counsel shares your opinion no doubt...but, you see, he deals with facts...’

‘And fact differs from truth...?’

‘Fact is visible truth’

‘God knows my husband is innocent; if you lawyers were more inspired by religion, you would not treat a man’s life and freedom merely as a matter of logic...you would hand it over to the Supreme Being...’

‘But Madam...we already did that. Didn’t your husband swear an oath...? And I guarantee you; all the Prosecution witnesses would as well. So, the Court is actually convinced that they all say the truth, unless of course they are insufficiently afraid of the Higher Powers they believe in...’

She was silent for some time...

‘But why can’t he just deliberately lose cases? It does not reduce his salary! Or does he get compensated in some diabolic arrangement of pay as you jail...

‘Or hang... as the case may be.’ I smiled

‘You mock me?!’  She turned crimson and advanced threateningly.

‘Not at all madam’ I held out placating hands ‘What I mean is that, he is the most honest of all lawyers because his worth is not measured by the money he is paid; nor by interests or stake in property or percentage of damages. He does it for justice. You are feeling this way because you are a direct party. But Justice is not emotional...’

She gave me a long stare, and walked out.

Back in the court, she switched seats and stayed as far away from me as she could. A needless enemy; for my reckless defence of somebody I never even cared about. I looked up and my eyes caught the prosecuting counsel. He sat calmly, adjusting his collar and leafing through his books. For the first time, I felt comfortable in my own skin as a ‘legal impostor’ within Justice’s hallowed chamber. My predicament is by far outweighed by that of this outcast in the eyes of many; who daily bears the heavy yoke of convincing society against its wishes, that it is as yet far from ideal...


THE END




First published in Thisday Newspapers: November 23, 2010

LAWYERS HAVE GONE OUT OF FASHION

He sat poker faced, an older man, methodically sipping from his glass, not speaking.  I had his full attention and maximized the moment. Speaking in slow, tailored tones I struggled with the alcohol which was threatening to inspire me to more spirited and less dignified submissions. I cloaked my opinions with a generous dose of legalese, and the phrases resounded, weighty, sage-like. This little trick has never failed to work when I’m baiting a potential client. 
Furtive, sideway glances always revealed their lips slightly agape, eyes swimming in the advanced stages of hypnotic awe.  How come so much knowledge is reposited in such a young lad! I would suddenly pause in mid-sentence and knot my brows, shaking my head slightly as if silently debating with an inner instructor. At such moments, the catch in their breaths is almost audible, they would hang onto the silence, and when I spoke again, it would be in whispers. They would strain forward, not daring to interrupt, desperate to catch every syllable. Then with a bored expression, I would mention my fee. Enveloped in the aura of my erudition, they never haggled…


But I seemed to have landed an uncommon fish today. The gentleman kept an unwavering stare on my face.  My punch-lines did not even elicit a nod, my wise-cracks sounded hollow. I started feeling slightly ridiculous and quickly blurted out my fee without the attendant rituals. That was when he smiled…He smiled with all the warmth of an air-conditioned igloo, and the frozen words rolled off his tongue, briefly: ‘Don’t be silly, boy’. This affront stung some heat into me, and I unleashed a withering denunciation on people so bloated by their own ignorance, they do not appreciate the enormity of a lawyer’s job. I waited for a reaction, none. 
He curled his lips downwards in another of those ghastly smiles and condescendingly breathed ‘I am a lawyer too, my boy…don’t look so combative. I have practised law for years, here and outside the country, but overcome by the sham of it all, I left, and veered into business, occasionally lifting young lawyers from the starvation line by offering them jobs I don’t really need done.’

He must have read the retort bubbling in my chest… ‘I admire your enthusiasm, but my boy (why does this Siberian keep calling me that!) save up your energies for some worthy ideal, lawyers are going out of fashion. Forget about the bright colors of our speech and language, these merely disguise our shadowy grasp of the tools of modern living.


Who is the corporate lawyer today? Those charlatans at CAC? Lugging multiple files and purporting to: (He made his voice squeaky in mimicry) “Not just incorporate your company sir, we shall also advise on the best strategy for share-holding and directorship.” I humor them most times, acting like a layman. I would say… “No, no don’t worry, I don’t really need the company for anything serious, it’s just to chase contracts.”  

Then you hear their Ohs and Ahs… “But sir, you will still need to clearly enunciate your Objects clause in a manner that would clearly communicate your adeptness”… abeg abeg abeg, like that fellow, Uti would say. Yes! I watch Big Brother Africa! Those guys are more real than this charade we call a profession. Which adeptness?, Do you not know that unschooled Business Centre operators have grown more adept at crafting MEMOS and ARTICLES, while the corporate lawyer remains stagnated in his big words, ignorant even of how to format documents on Microsoft Word.

And the so-called Estate Lawyers? How do their job details differ from the ‘agents-on-the-hustle’ which this town is festooned with? One of them came to my newly completed house at Maitama the other day. Of course I kept a straight face, though I recognized him as one of those always loitering around while work was in progress. He looked different of course, a new jacket, a borrowed car, and crispy Call-cards. Yes sir? “I wish to introduce our dynamic law practice to you sir. Our special practice focus is on Property management and …” 
“Ok, so what services would you offer me?” ‘He instantly grew breathless.’ “A myriad sir, Further to ensuring that you are not cheated out of the aesthetics of this choice location, we would utilize our best efforts to generate the most suitable clientele in the likely event that you would wish to place the accommodation on the public domain…” and ‘they’ proceeded to mention a preposterous amount as Legal fees. “Ok, you mean you want to help me and look for tenants?” ‘I asked. He looked taken aback.’ “Sir, we don’t put it so crudely” 


“How crude do you want it? Is it not percentage you want? You want to be my caretaker, not so? Do you bear in mind that your competitors, the self trained estate agents are asking for a mere tenth of the amount you mention? And they would even help me enforce payment from my tenants the street-way if need be” ‘Of course he slunk off, he met the wrong mugu. Yes! Mugu, the Law is a fraud. Wetin Lawyers dey do sef?’ He suddenly switched to pidgin. ‘Nothing! That’s what lawyers do. They simply position themselves around every transaction and trumpet that none can be completed without their aid. Lies!

They propose to draft an agreement for you, carrying on like they will lose a minute’s sleep over it, and charge you millions. Millions! For the mechanical routine of rifling through their antique volumes, duplicating time-worn principles, with their unique vocabulary as the only original input. Some daft SAN came the other day (I gasped at the blasphemy) and asked for tens of millions to file my Motion on Notice. In his arrogance he scribbled an invoice, winking conspiratorially that every smart business man had to be silky. I found it hilarious, because even if I lost that case, the plaintiff’s claim is not up to half of what the swaggering clown charged.’ I caught myself nodding.

‘When I go to a hospital, the medical personnel manipulate machines, concoct medication and invariably fetch me actual relief (as opposed to Legal relief, which is largely imaginary). The engineer builds a bridge; I walk on it and marvel. Have you ever seen the engine of a ship? That, to me is the climax of human thinking. Using the brain to make creations, and effect practical changes.

So, my boy, before you get to those millions, you have to wait till next year, when the election petitions will open the floodgates. Make the most of it while you can, because very soon, even the politicians will grow wiser and understand that the outcome remains a gamble nonetheless, unaffected by the drama you guys bring to the courts.

You people have even lost your footing on the practice of Charge and Bail. Detainees now pay directly to DPOs…’

I immediately had to interrupt…

He smiled again and lifted his drink. This time, his eyes actually glinted.  He signaled the waiter… ‘One more bottle for Mr. Okafor, please.’ Leaning forward he whispered, ‘At least, lets both make the best of the Bar tonight.’

- published in Thisday Newspapers: October 5, 2010- http://www.thisdaylive.com/articles/lawyers-have-gone-out-of-fashion-/77338/