The Mobile Court That Ate the Diary
Author’s Note: The Chronicles of His Worship Mulyanyama is a serialized literary commentary designed to constructively critique the institutional and structural implications of the Magistrates Courts (Amendment) Act, No. 6 of 2026. This work is a creative exploration of the human infrastructure behind public service and is not intended to ridicule, embarrass, or undermine the integrity of the Judiciary.
At 9:43am, the white Land Cruiser rolled into Omwonyo‑le.
Nobody looked surprised.
Not the warders.
Not the litigants.
Not even His Worship Mulyanyama.
Only Alyek Molly looked up from the registry.
She had not been paid in three months.
That morning, before leaving home, she had crushed her mother’s last blood‑pressure tablet into halves – so it could survive two more days.
Her tuition at Kampala International University (Mbale campus) was due on Friday. Second year, Bachelor of Laws. She still kept her old Diploma in Law transcript folded inside her registry drawer – next to unpaid electricity receipts.
When she saw the Land Cruiser, she did not smile.
But her shoulders relaxed. Just a little.
The memo was short. Cold. Typed.
“All ordinary cause‑list matters stand adjourned pending implementation of the Mobile Justice Outreach Session.”
Fifteen days.
Ocen Okello closed his eyes.
Four years.
Four.
Not because his case was difficult.
Because the defendant – a government primary school – had failed to bring its final two witnesses. Again.
The first adjournment: His Worship Mulyanyama had been away at donor‑funded SGBV training.
The next three: the school simply came empty‑handed. Each time, the defence begged. Each time, His Worship adjourned – in the interest of justice.
Each time – no costs.
Counsel Ogwang Adede had financed this trip from Lira by himself.
This time, his client simply could not raise it.
Not because he did not want justice.
Because justice was competing with school fees.
With last month’s Bolicap debt – the money he had borrowed to bring both himself and counsel to this same court… for a hearing that never took off.
With the money still owed to Okello Ajing, who had rescued him that same morning when every other door had gone silent.
With sugar.
With paraffin.
With soap.
And somewhere inside that collapsing arithmetic… sat the question of whether justice was becoming more expensive than the debt he had come to recover.
So Counsel Ogwang Adede came anyway.
On his own fuel.
On his own time.
On his own thinning patience.
And on the dangerous assumption… that today, after four years, somebody inside Omwonyo‑le would finally be ready to finish a case.
Today, Counsel Ogwang Adede had come ready – not prepared to swallow one more adjournment dressed as “the interest of justice.”
He had the court file under one arm.
His diary in the other hand.
And in the margins of his notebook – authorities, annotations, and one final prayer:
Order 17 Rule 4 of the Civil Procedure Rules.
Close the defence.
Take oral submissions.
Fix the matter for judgment.
Four years was enough.
Today he had not come to negotiate with delay.
Today… he had come to end it.
Then Alyek Molly pinned the memo.
And nobody entered Court No. 2.
Imat Nekolina did not understand the white car.
She only knew that her case was not today. Again.
She approached Alyek Molly. “When?”
Alyek shrugged. “After the mobile court.”
“My witness,” Imat said quietly, “the doctor says he has less than fourteen days.”
Alyek said nothing. She had heard this before too.
But her mind was already calculating: fifteen days of per diem. Enough for her mother’s medication. Enough for Friday’s tuition.
She did not wish for the donor to come. But she could not afford to wish otherwise.
Mulyanyama watched from his chambers.
He saw Counsel Ogwang Adede standing on the cracked steps – file, diary, notebook – the oral application still just a prayer in his head.
He saw Imat Nekolina’s face.
He saw Ocen Okello kick his Boxer motorcycle back to life – and ride away without looking back.
The Visitor was already inside Court No. 1, setting up his laptop.
The donor had paid for fifteen days.
Per diem. Transport. Lunch allowance.
Enough… to make resistance expensive.
That evening, Mulyanyama texted a friend:
“They call it access to justice. I call it access to their priorities.”
The friend replied: “Did you eat?”
Mulyanyama did not answer.
Before you blame a magistrate for “delayed justice”… ask two questions:
Who funded the last special session in your court? And how many times did the government defendant adjourn without cost?
Two days later, another envelope arrived.
Not white.
Brown.
Government brown.
The subject line read:
TRANSFER OF FILES – FOR JUST CAUSE.
Mulyanyama read it once.
Read it twice.
Then looked at his phone.
One message waited.
Just three words.
Did you eat?
Institutions are not always captured by force.
Sometimes… they are rented.
One allowance at a time.
Enen Ambrose, Enen Legal World
Member: Judiciary Affairs Committee
Uganda Law Society
Enen Legal World.
For Feedback or comments: enen@enenlegalworld.com
Legal Disclaimer
Fiction & Non-Defamation Notice:
This post is a pure work of fiction and creative literature. The characters, dialogue, specific incidents, and settings—including the character of His Worship Mulyanyama and the location of Omwonyo-le Magistrates Court—are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance or exact matches to actual persons, living or dead, real-life judicial officers, or specific ongoing cases is entirely coincidental. This text is created solely for the purpose of systemic legislative critique and systemic advocacy; it is not maliciously constructed, nor should it be interpreted as an attempt to defame, misrepresent, or malign any living individual or public office holder.
The legal references in this Series is for information purposes only and is not intended to be used as a subtitute for legal advice. The author does not assume responsibility or admit liability arising from the use of the contents of this blog as legal advice.
The author strongly encourages readers to consult a licensed attorney for specific context related legal advice.
If you missed Episode 1 of this series, You can access it here: Chronciles of His Worship Mulyanyama Episode 1
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