Winfred Kunihira: Praise to special lawyer who left jobs only at April’s end

And when, around April 2021, we asked Kenneth to get us a good female lawyer, he brought in one from Bunyoro. 

That is how Winfred Kunihira, tall-some, dark and plump, joined our law firm. She was a fresh young lawyer, with a killer smile and a magnetic personality. 

She enrolled as an advocate that year and got down to work, quickly distinguishing herself as the epitome of efficiency. 

Winnie, as we fondly called her, always figured out what was needed and got it done. So by the time you issued instructions, she’d smile sweetly and tell you she had already covered that. 

I gave up asking. She was the first to arrive at chambers in the morning; if the ones with the keys delayed, they’d find her waiting patiently at the gate. 

We, therefore, had no choice but to give her a set of keys. And with that, she was always the last to leave.

Unlike me, Winnie didn’t procrastinate; she did today’s tasks today and we later learnt she’d wake up by three in the morning to read up on her cases. 

If the cleaning lady delayed turning up at chambers, she’d find Winnie had done the cleaning. 

Although she was fresh at the Bar, Winnie distinguished herself as a ferocious lioness who took no prisoners. In fact, one time, in 2022, a senior lawyer, clearly unhappy, called me after facing off with Winnie in court. “This girl is vicious!” he complained. Winnie won that case and now that I look back, every case she handled.

Our firm is riddled with homeliness and informality, and the problem with that paradigm is that there is a tendency to get very attached to people. 

The theory cats may call this model a case of organisational psychosis or a variant of structural malaise. I really don’t care. Point is, on Wednesday, April 26, as I sipped coffee at my desk, I caught myself wondering what we’d ever do if Winnie left, because she was, quite literally, holding the firm captive, proving herself indispensable with each passing day. 

And there was a background: Milly and Ken were leaving for greener pastures, so Mike and I were mulling replacements. The firm had three till-death-do-us-part individuals, Mike, Dorcus and I. We each silently felt that in Winnie we had found a fourth. We later learnt she had assured Dorcus, “Don’t worry, I am going nowhere; I am here to stay. In any case, I only quit jobs at the end of April.” 

Dorcus at that time merely smiled, not realising the significance of these words. 

On Friday, April 28, I called Winnie at six in the evening. A client needed something done urgently. She was in chambers, alone. She drafted the documents and brought them to me at Café Javas, Kyambogo. 

She declined to take coffee – she’d earlier had one with Mike. We chatted for a while and she seemed in no hurry to leave.  Eventually she took leave and ambled out of the restaurant, heading home in Luzira, in good spirits. 

That is why on May 1, my heart stopped when Mike called and broke the news: Winnie had collapsed in the bath tub earlier that morning…and she was gone. A knife through our hearts! We wept. Clients wept. In fond final honour, we asked the family to let us carry Winnie ourselves as we laid her down to sleep for the very last time, in Greater Hoima.

Lessons? One, I think women are more efficient and reliable than men; educate your girls! Two, it pays to build a meritocracy; there are many good human resources available if we put sectarian lenses aside. Looking back, I realised Friday, April 28, was the last working day of April. 

True to her promise and principle, Winnie had left her job at April’s end.

Mr Gawaya Tegulle is an advocate of the High Court of Uganda, [email protected]