The past two columns in this series explored the career and scholarship of Professor Oloka-Onyango.
By themselves, they might stand as modest testament to the work of one of the most significant legal academics of our time. Ordinarily, I should have left it at that. Nonetheless, it is important to tell a final part of the story - of the man himself. This is because it might be impossible to quite appreciate his legacy, and understand the passion, logic, depth, consistency and coherence of his work, without some understanding of the man himself.
It is in this spirit that in this final segment I share some of my 'Oloka stories'. I first encountered the name Oloka-Onyango, before I met him. I was then in my Senior Six vacation, waiting to go to law school. My paternal cousin Dr. Richard Akankwasa (now deceased) -- was having a chat with my father (now also deceased).
Richard was himself quite an interesting gentleman - he had been a lecturer at Makerere's School of Education, before leaving to join the Ministry of Education and Sports in the role of Director for Education. I heard Richard 'complain' about a certain Professor at the School of Law who was 'complicated'. Apparently, he had attempted without success to interest him in certain lucrative work in Rwanda, I believe.
He was quite surprised and somewhat annoyed at the notion that there was a Ugandan who would not jump at the chase to make an extra buck. At law school, Professor Oloka Onyango taught us Constitutional History and Constitutional Law in first year, alongside Dr Henry Michaels Onoria.
He was a conscientious lecturer, who never missed a class. His marking was similarly strict but fair. You were confident that your paper had been given a 'fair hearing', although you somehow wished that it had not been subjected to such strict scrutiny. His classes were usually quite interactive, and certainly interesting. More introverted students, such as myself, were perhaps less likely to be quite active.
One discussion I remember was in the second Semester, and related to a then 'hot' issue in the country - the question of the 'Bafuruki' - Bakiga who had gone to, and settled in, Bunyoro. The debate centered on the question as to whether the right (under Article 29 (2)(a) of the Constitution) to move and settle in any part of Uganda was a real one, or one which had to be tempered by certain socio-political realities.
That was one of the few classes in which I participated. Later, towards the end of my second year, when I sought a recommendation letter for the Uongozi Institute - a leadership programme bringing together East African students - I knocked tentatively on the door of his office.
'Come in', he said. I introduced myself, and my stated my business. He asked: 'Were you active in my class?'. 'Yes', I lied, or half-lied - depending on how one interprets one in-class contribution over the course of a year. I did not see the second question coming: 'Were you active in other classes?' 'Yes', I said - this time even more enthusiastically, with the truth content in this reply standing at about 55%. 'Ok' he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief, fully expecting that he would then provide a date and time at which I would return to receive the recommendation letter. 'In that case,' he continued, 'I suggest you go to those other lecturers in whose classes you were active, and obtain a recommendation letter from them.'
I had finally come into contact with the same legendary polite 'no' to which my cousin Richard had evidently familiar in a different context. It was fair advice - and a fair point. I learnt that there was no 'right' to a recommendation letter. That, if I wanted strong recommendations for postgraduate studies, and other opportunities later, I would have to earn these, based on the work I did at the School of Law.
Towards the end of my third year, Professor Oloka-Onyango put out a call for Research Assistants - as he annually did. I applied, along with a good number of other students. In the end, he selected two students - myself and Elijah Omagor, who went on to have an excellent career in Stanbic Bank and later Nile Breweries Ltd before going on to private business. Elijah was a much better Research Assistant than I was.
I must confess that I sub-contracted certain work I was given, such as photocopying certain archival materials in the Makerere library. On Professor's part, the substantial payment Elijah and I were contractually promised was religiously paid. My 'Waterloo' in this role came when a colleague in 4th year, who was Professor Oloka-Onyango's dissertation supervisee, asked to borrow a book from the Professor's extensive collection.
I think he had first approached Elijah, and when he was rebuffed, turned to me (Elijah and I both had access to the Professor's office). I remember consulting with Elijah who said something along the lines of: 'Do so at your own risk'. I took the risk, and lent the fellow the book, in clear excess of the authority bestowed on me as an assistant.
I do not quite recall how it came to the attention of Professor Oloka-Oyango that one of his books had been given out with neither his knowledge nor consent. It could be that the student returned the book to him. Or perhaps he needed to refer to it and found it missing.
Either way, he found out. Professor Oloka-Onyango asked me about my role in the incident and, I denied all knowledge of the matter. This time, the lie was obviously stupid, since he no doubt was by that time possessed of all the facts. I think I must have panicked - it is the only charitable explanation.
But I must now take this opportunity to formally confess my full involvement in this terrible affair, and ask for Professor's forgiveness. I hope that the gentleman who borrowed the book through the 'flawed procurement process' - and who incidentally has since had an extremely successful career in the United Nations, working on precisely the issues he was researching in his dissertation - will also find it in his heart to separately render his own full confession.
Evidently, in the role of his Research Assistant, I was neither a good nor a particularly faithful servant. But Professor was forgiving. At the end of my LLB programme, when I approached him for a recommendation letter, he provided me with a very strong one which, along with that of Professor David Justin Bakibinga (who was Deputy Vice Chancellor of Makerere University at the time) won me a post-graduate place at a very strong university in the United Kingdom.
And following that, Professor Oloka-Onyango was gracious enough to provide me with another strong letter which allowed me admission to yet another very strong university in the United States. At the tail end of the programme in the US, he sent me an email in which he asked: 'Are you interested in human rights?'. 'Yes', I responded. He then got to work doing all within his power to facilitate accommodation into the teaching staff of the School of Law.
I eventually started as, in August 2009, an Assistant Lecturer on a temporary six-month contract, under the department of the Human Rights and Peace Centre (HURIPEC), which he headed at the time. Clearly, but for his dogged belief in my abilities, and his willingness to forgive me not once but several times, I might not have come into the teaching role in which I find so much fulfilment.
And I know that my story - of benefitting from his unwarranted and undeserved trust, belief and generosity - is only one of very many. And watching him work, since 2009, has been to have a front seat to a remarkable work ethic, attention to detail and an incredibly high sense of personal integrity in all his dealings.
I remember, for instance, sometime in 2010, when one of his Research Assistants, Ms. Jacqueline Tumusiime provided such substantial assistance on a research project, that in the final document which went to print, he indicated her as co-author. I know she was incredibly surprised, and deeply touched, by this gesture. In a world full of unscrupulous, grasping and exploitative seniors, Professor Oloka-Onyango stood apart by the sheer depth of his humanity, humility, consideration, generosity and sensitivity.
At the School of Law, I cannot count the number of instances when he where he quite deliberately supported the voices of younger scholars. In his gentle but firm way, he only had to say 'I agree with ...', and the shaky and dubious ideas any one of us had just put forth would be elevated to the status of a credible contribution, meriting as least some consideration.
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He also quite deliberately and intentionally cited the work of younger and Southern scholars, doing his bit again to foreground our voices in a world in which too often these are ignored and marginalized. At the same time, as a reviewer, he was unerringly strict - demanding, and invariably obtaining - the very best scholarship that could be squeezed from us.
I know that, in the weeks, months and years ahead, the several persons - in Uganda, Africa and around the world - whose lives have been touched by this great man will share their own 'Oloka stories'. In these, it will be clear that Professor Oloka-Onyango is quite literally a 'Father-in-the-law' for a so many of us.
However, much as we are left rather confused and not a little exposed following his formal departure from the School of Law, we must be fair to his 'real' family - his life partner Professor Sylvia Tamale, and their sons, Kwame Sobukwe Ayepa and Samora Okech Sanga. We must not be selfish, and must allow him much-deserved rest and relaxation.
For our part, what are we to do going forward? I recall, in this regard, one rather heated meeting in which a now retired Professor of Law pointedly said: 'Professor Oloka Onyango would never have done this'. It was a strong argument - and one which was unanswerable.
Clearly his example was, is and will always be the gold standard. I suppose that the best we can do is to constantly ask ourselves, in the weeks, months and years ahead: 'What would Professor Oloka Onyango do?' I suspect that, if we keep asking ourselves this question, we might just be ok.
The writer is Senior Lecturer and Acting Director of the Human Rights and Peace Centre (HURIPEC) at the School of Law, Makerere University, where he teaches Constitutional Law and Legal Philosophy.
