A session in Bamugemereire’s land probe

Land commission. Left-right: Commissioners Fredrick Ruhindi, George Bagonza, Dr Rose Nakaayi, Justice Catherine Bamugemereire (chairperson), Joyce Gunze Habaasa and Mary Ochan during a land probe sitting on July 22 last year. PHOTO BY RACHEL MABALA.

What you need to know:

Probe. Sitting at the National Records Centre and Archives in Wandegeya, Kampala, the Commission of Inquiry into Land Matters officially opened its public hearings on May 9, 2017. Sunday Monitor’s Tony Mushoborozi gives us an insight into one of the sessions.

The mood in the hall is similar to that of a high-end private hospital. The place feels very clean and even smells somewhat sterilised. The air-conditioning is cold. Very cold. The florescent lighting is cool. Police men and women, all dressed in black uniform, walk up and down like medical personnel in a mass medical emergency.

They are preparing the hall for the day’s session. Files are being placed on the commissioners’ tables. Lawyers are whispering things to each other. Noise levels are kept as low as possible in all they do. This is the venue for the land inquiry, better known as the Bamugemereire commission. Time check, 10:10am.

Television equipment is hurriedly but carefully erected in one section, towards the centre right of the hall. One by one, the lawyers take their seats. The witnesses, about 28 of them, most of whom are village people judging by their dress code, sit quietly and humbly behind the television cameramen. The pain in their faces would have you believe they are seated in a hospital waiting room. A big number of them range between middle-aged and elderly. Will today be the day that justice comes home? Time will tell. Time check, 10:25am.

An elderly woman, in a clean blue gomesi, with short hair that has obviously been freshly tinted black, sits at the end of the second row from the front. Her eyes are closed but she’s obviously not dozing. Her right fingers are doing a slight but rhythmic tapping on her left upper arm. Her arms are wrapped around her chest in a defensive stance. Her chin raised in resolve. Anxiety, maybe. Impatience, very likely. She seems to be in deep prayer too. Time check, 10:35am.

At exactly 10:55am, the commissioners enter the hall with ceremony. Three deep, subdued drum thuds emanate from the corridor outside the hall to announce their arrival. A policeman opens the door wide to let them in. They enter with a certain alertness of posture and they walk very briskly, almost military-like. A loud shuffling sound ensues as everyone in the hall rises to their feet. It is the sound of tension as everyone takes their seats.

The case to be handled today is that of the Njeru stock farm, at Bukaaya in Njeru. The announcement is made by the assistant lead counsel, Andrew Odit, in a voice that has obviously done this hundreds of times.

“The group from Nsooloolo is excused and asked to come another day. Their case won’t be heard today,” says Justice Catherine Bamugemereire. She then apologises to them for the inconvenience. A big section of the witnesses murmur discreetly and humbly walk out.

A minute later, more than half the witnesses are gone. One can only imagine their frustration as they walk away without being heard. The lady in the blue gomesi is one of those that received the bad news. A look of disappointment falls over her countenance as she disappears through the exit. Justice won’t be served today. She will have to sacrifice another day. Time check 11am.

As the commotion dies down, the hearing of the Njeru stock farm begins. It is an ongoing case, having started mid last year. So today’s hearing won’t be the first. Or last. Time check, 11:02am.

The day’s witness rises to her feet and takes the oath. Her name, Charity Nabaasa, a state attorney. State attorneys represent government the same way lawyers represent the common man. She has been a state attorney for 11 years, but her nerves don’t care about that. They do what they do best; making people nervous. Her voice is steady and strong, but one can tell she’s fighting to keep her nerves under control. Her right elbow is planted firmly on the table right next to her large file folder as if to steady herself. Her neck is craned towards the commissioners.

The case of the Njeru stock farm is a tad complicated. In 1952, the then Protectorate Government obtained a lease for 1,066 acres of land from Ham Mukasa. When the colonial government handed over the country in 1962, the lease was gifted to Njeru Town Council. In 1967, the town council, which was at the time too small to utilise the land, subleased it to Uganda Land Commission (ULC). All government land is managed by this commission. Uganda Land Commission acquired the land for Ministry of Agriculture, Animal Industry and Fisheries. A stock farm was set up in the same land in the late 60s.

The terms of the sublease were that the government had to pay rent every year to Njeru Town Council (now municipality). But government defaulted for several years, during which time, it appears, Njeru Municipal Council repossessed the land and subleased it to private individuals.

Of the original 1,066 acres leased to the Agriculture ministry, only 562 acres are remaining in the hands of the ministry. The witness, Charity Nabasa, has been trying to help the Ministry of Agriculture get back the 504 acres that have been stolen. The messy part is that one government body (Njeru Municipal Council has stolen from another government body (Ministry of Agriculture). If the case were to go to court, two state attorneys would have to tussle it out with each other, and that is weird.

The back and forth between the state attorney and the commissioners is very technical legal and procedural stuff that goes on forever. The tension goes up and down like a pendulum. The state attorney has missed many details in her pursuit to reclaim the lost land. But she has done some good work too and everything is documented. Some questions are easy while some are migraine-inducing.

Almost all commissioners are lenient in their questioning. They know their power to roast anyone in that chair. And they are human. Therefore, when they tell Nabasa that most state attorneys like herself are all very unserious and lazy, it is all hidden between the lines. Never confrontational. Mutual respect.

But this is boring stuff to the other witnesses who are here for other less complicated cases. It is tension at the front and sleep at the back.

A lady in a black blouse with green pin stripes can’t take it any longer. Her head is resting in her left palm, eyes closed, with the elbow planted in her thigh. She is struggling to keep her head in one position. A gentleman in a red checkered shirt two rows behind her is not having it easy either. His head keeps going up and down as he tries in vain to keep awake. Understandably, it’s not a cup of tea to listen to a technical legal presentation in a language you don’t understand (probably).

At one point, Justice Bamugemereire cuts in and says: “Do you know that this was corruption? Do you know that the individuals that gained access to this land are government officials? What is the invisible hand in this?” Visibly embarrassed, Nabasa says she had no idea.

Odit asks why government is losing a lot of court cases involving government land. Nabasa, who is a small part in a very flawed system, says officials at the Lands ministry keep giving out government land to private individuals without doing due diligence. What she dodges to say is that the government lawyers like herself have largely failed to win back this stolen land through courts. She knows she’s looking bad at this moment, and it shows on her face.

But the heat is on now. The commission has been going on for close to two years and it seems they have seen the same thread in all these cases. They have heard all these circular stories over and over again, and they can’t hide their frustration.
When George T. Bagonza speaks, it’s a laboured, frustrated cry for change. He is trained himself to speak with a smile on his face and kindness in his voice. But his soul is bleeding. The words coming from his mouth are clearly not targeted at the witness. Or to anyone in the room for that matter. They almost sound like a prayer to God.

“Whenever cases involving government land come up,” he cries, “there seems to be no strategy to protect it from legal challenges. What can government do to improve its capacity to ensure these properties are not lost? The public seems to think whenever they have a court case against government, they will win. And in most cases, they win. Isn’t that bad?” Bagonza wonders.

Bagonza does look like he wants an answer from the witness. He’s not even looking at her, but Nabasa still comes up with one. She says: “Private individuals win cases against government not because the government is not defending itself well but because most of these cases are bad.”

This attempt to placate Bagonza doesn’t help much. He continues with his monologue as if he heard nothing. Like a tragic hero in a play, he has disturbing thoughts that he must verbalise whether anyone cares to listen or not.

He continues passionately: “At a time like this, government shouldn’t be losing such a facility as the Njeru stock farm. A facility right on the railway land. How do you sacrifice such land for a few residential houses? Yes, we need houses, but they can go elsewhere. As lawyers of government, you need to think hard. You (state attorneys) need to be more aggressive. You can turn around bad situations if you tried harder. Imagine if UPDF kept coming back from one insurgency after another saying they had failed to quell it. Would we sleep in our houses? All the forests are being stolen and the government can’t seem to reclaim them. What will remain at the end of the day?”

After what feels like a whole day, it’s just 12:18pm. Short adjournment.

The coldness from the air conditioning is treacherous. Before the adjournment, the tension in the room has counterbalanced it, so much so that one does not notice how cold it is. Probably 13oC. But in the absence of the tension, it is a different story.

Four burly policemen are standing guard at the entrance talking. One policewoman is guarding the door that the commissioners exited from.

I feel tortured by the hearing even when I am just a bystander. I don’t think I can take it anymore. It is time to get out of this cold place and go enjoy roasting heat of the sun outside.

Justice Catherine Bamugemereire.

Who is Justice Catherine Bamugemereire?
Qualifications. She holds a Bachelor of Laws Degree from Makerere University (1992) and a Master’s Degree in Comparative Law from the Southern Methodist University (SMU) in Dallas Texas, USA (2003). The US university awarded Bamugemereire with a Distinguished Global Alumni Award in April 2017, in recognition of her fight against corruption.

Career. Justice Bamugemereire is a Justice of Uganda’s Court of Appeal/Constitutional Court.
She joined the public sector in 1993 as pupil state attorney in the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions in Arua District. She was later recruited by the Judiciary as Grade One magistrate and later rose to the position of Chief Magistrate.

In 2001, Justice Bamugemereire took a career break from the bench and had a stint in the private sector as legal advisor for Shell Mexico LPG, in Mexico City, and in the academia as a research assistant at the Southern Methodist University in Dallas Texas, USA.
In 2003, she relocated to the UK and served as associate lecturer at the University of Surrey for several years. In 2010, she was called to the Uganda High Court bench as judge at the Anti-Corruption and Family Divisions of the High Court.

The inquiry into land matters is her third commission of inquiry, having headed both the Uganda National Roads Authority inquiry (June 2015-January 2016) and the Kampala Capital City Authority Tribunal (June-November 2013).

Commission members
Robert Ssebunnya. He is an economist by profession. He holds an MBA degree in Economic Policy and International Trade from the Helsinki School of Economics, Finland.

Mary Oduka Ochan. She holds a master’s degree in Development Studies from University College Dublin (2001), and a bachelor’s degree in Commerce from Makerere University (1978).

Joyce Gunze Habaasa. She holds a Makerere University Bachelor’s Degree in surveying (1996) and Master’s Degree in Geo-Informatics from the International Institute for Geo-Information Science and Earth Observation (ITC)-Enschede, Netherlands (2003).

Dr Rose Nakayi. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Law from Makerere University (1999), a Post-Graduate Diploma in Legal Practice from the Law Development Centre (2000), a Master of Laws degree from the University of Cambridge (UK, 2001), and a Doctorate in Law from the University of Notre Dame, Indiana (USA, 2012).

Fredrick Ruhindi. He holds a Bachelor of Laws degree from Makerere University, a Diploma in Legal Practice from the Law Development Centre, a Master of Laws degree from the University of Edinburgh.

George Bagonza Tinkamanyire. He is a teacher by profession who crossed to politics. Mr. Tinkamanyire is a former district LC 5 chairman for Hoima (2001 – 2016).

Ebert Byenkya. He holds a Bachelor of Laws degree from Makerere University (1988) and a Diploma in Legal Practice from the Law Development Centre (1989).

Olive Kazaarwe Mukwaya. She has a Post Graduate Diploma in Public Administration and Management from Uganda Management Institute, Post Graduate Diploma in Legal Practice from Law Development Centre and a Bachelor of Laws from Makerere University.

Douglas Singiza, Assistant Secretary, Research. He has done some research in Human Rights and Democratisation in Africa federal government system.

JB Rujagaata Suuza. He holds a Master of Laws Degree (with Distinction) in Petroleum Law and Policy from the University of Dundee (2015), a Bachelor of Laws Degree (with Honours) from Makerere University (1998) and a Diploma in Legal Practice from the Law Development Centre (1999).