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Justice for the Judge, and Justice for the Unwashed

Written by Eric Ng'eno

Monday, 17 August 2009

Let us be brief, shall we?

I read about the credit card debacle involving Mr. Justice Nicholas Ombija as it played out in the High Court with great fascination. All the while, something at the back of my mind persistently nudged me, suggesting very darkly that something was not right in the proceedings. What, then? What indeed? I was at a loss. Being your typical lawyer, however, I went through what I perceived to be the issues involved, making generous allowance for the fact that my information was based on media reports - an atrocious source of fact - and found nothing extraordinary. You see, a good number of cases before court are usually frivolous initiatives to vindicate insatiable, trenchant egos. I have no doubt that this judge is particularly litigious; isn't he the one with another case in the High Court concerning lavatory seat covers and toilet floor rugs? However, as long as he pays court fees and the courts feel that he ought to be heard, he is by all means entitled to be heard.

And heard he was. He filed suit against KCB on 19th September, 2008. Pleadings closed and interlocutory proceedings were determined, resulting in an appeal and orders of stay which, it is alleged, were disobeyed by the trial judge. In due course, then, the banks's defence having been struck out, the judge's evidence was taken and submissions closing the case made. By the by,judgement was entered on 27th July, 2009, awarding the good judge Kshs 2.5 million, costs and interest.

And there, right in your face is the downright, hypocritical, cynical injustice of this case. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the issues or its determination. It has everything to do with the dates - 19-9-2008 and 27-7 2009. 10 months from start to finish. Expeditious. Quick. Almost instant justice. Certainly well beyond 'international standards', whatever those may be. And it was in the High Court right here in Nairobi, not the fabled Hague.

Everyone will tell you that to institute suit, entertain interlocutory applications, go to hearing, make submissions and obtain judgement is a rigmarole in this our beloved country, where everyone is taken through endless call-overs, mentions, filing of issues, taking of mutually agreeable dates in a congested court diary, judicial no-shows on account of two-judge benches, vacations and colloquia, etc, etc consumes the better part of two years.

I know that there are cases pending before the High Court, which were filed when I was a child. I am now qualified to be appointed a judge of the High Court, meaning that they have wallowed in the registries and diaries and mentions and call-overs and whatnot, long enough for me to actually hear and try them. Dearest Lord. And then Ombija files a suit. And it is over in ten quick months. Ten months.

In such a scenario, it is difficult to ignore the fact that the plaintiff is a judge of the High Court. It is also mightily difficult to resist the suggestion and appearance that perhaps in our beloved Republic, there is justice for the judge, and then there is justice for the unwashed, and that the two are starkly dissimilar propositions.

Of course that is total claptrap. Justice is blind. All are equal before it. It bestrides our reality imperiously and without favour. It fears no one. It respects not the status of the parties, but only always their rights. Before justice, the pauper and the king find the common denominator in the law, fuck and fuck!

I long for the day.