Jacob Oulanyah wanted justice

These words have stayed ringing at the back of my mind most of the week.  Last Tuesday, I attended the celebration of life for the late Speaker of Parliament, Rt Hon Jacob L’Okori Oulanyah.  It was hosted by the Uganda Law Society (ULS) in which he was a member.

As a young lawyer in the association, it is always an honour to sit among distinguished colleagues in the profession, and a greater one still to learn from where they may have fallen short.

Jacob Oulanyah was celebrated as a hero.  Listening to the eulogies, you got the sense that he was a great man indeed. One who was concerned about helping others and doing his best to bloom where he was planted.  Past ULS president Francis Gimara described him as full of life, a jolly fellow, and a bold lawyer.  Other distinguished speakers including the Attorney General and the ULS vice president eulogised the late Speaker’s contribution to expanding legal practice in rural areas including his pivotal role in drafting and passing the Legal Aid Act.  

The AG specifically spoke of Oulanyah’s volunteer spirit exemplified by how often he availed himself to provide advice when called upon.  He celebrated his unmistakable belief in consensus building and called upon each of us to be the kind of person others could aspire to be.

Listening to these valid celebrations of life, I could not settle the unease at the back of my mind.  As the speeches carried on, I itched with discomfort on the other end of the Zoom session, the image of Oulanyah presiding over the passing of the anti-homosexuality law in 2013 still seared at the back of my head.  

I was a law student then, and can recall vividly my experiences on three days when it comes to the day it was tabled, the day it was passed, and the day it was annulled.  All of these processes happened within the legal landscape, so I was keenly watching all the actors involved in passing the law.

I was angst on this call because I recalled the heated debates that fuelled the passage of that law. How could our own people turn their backs on us and reject us so completely?  Oulanyah presided on the day that the Bill was passed into law.  Although it was later annulled by the constitutional court for lack of quorum in Parliament, the damage was already done.

Dozens if not hundreds of members of my community faced multiple forms of violence as a direct result of this law, others were forced to leave their jobs, or to leave the country.  During the four years that the law was debated, some of which were presided over by the late Speaker, the conversation hardly included the voices of the LGBT community themselves.  

It was as if we were invisible, speaking to our country folk from the advocacy platforms we had created for ourselves sometimes with the support of allies.

I struggled to reconcile how the great honourable man was a willing agent in some of the most direct affronts to our democratic dispensation in recent history.

Arguably, one man alone simply cannot be held to account for our collective failures.  Yet Jacob’s position as a high ranking official in the Executive invites us to reflect on our own mortality and the role we each play in this project called Uganda beyond our individual self-interest.

Other speakers at the service put our collective aspirations so aptly.  

“Feel free to knock at our doors, and they will be open.  I know there is no door in government that would be closed for you, including the President’s because you are the children, you have entitlements from the government of Uganda in Parliament,” Hon. Adolf Mwesigye, the Clerk to Parliament , spoke.  Perhaps sensing some unease with the statement, he quickly added, “I’m talking about the law.  That is the law.”

Somewhere in this statement was the understanding that people seek to be treated with dignity, to be recognised as valid and entitled, and the law is often the right place to look for direction in that regard.

Just like Jacob’s children, the LGBT community and other marginalised groups share this aspiration with other Ugandans.  As we are reminded that lawyers must be bold, we seek bold advocates for justice, who are invested in building consensus towards a shared belonging and service to country.
It’s about legacy, how shall we be remembered when we are gone?  We want justice too.

Noah Mirembe, a member of the LGBTQ community, and an advocate of the High Court of Uganda.