When two or three new wigs gather, there complaint is! Oh my God, can new wigs complain? Before getting employed, they complain about the dearth of jobs. After employment, they complain about, well about everything.
It is either the office is too far, or the job is too tedious. Of course there is the perennial complaint about poor salaries. There is the grouse against the “tyranny” of principal counsel and the oppression by the judge/magistrate.
In the event, the average Mr. or Miss New Wig is invariably a grossly dissatisfied individual who often feels cheated and exploited by his employer, thus always out to hop on to greener pastures, all the time or at least almost all the time.
However the more likely truth is that the new wig’s greatest enemy is, oft times himself. A multiple combination of character failings render many new wigs unsuitable for the tasking field of legal practice.
Below are some of these faults.
1. LAZINESS
A typical new-wig is a firm believer in the dreamer’s axiom of “Little Work, Great profit.” Unfortunately legal practice thrives on a different parameter of remuneration which is “Great Industry, Great Success” and conversely “Little Industry, Little Success.”
A typical successful lawyer is a busy bee - always reading, always consulting, always counseling, perpetually preparing.
Working long hours is the norm in his field, partly because the field of law is vast and partly because at any time, the advocates faces two barriers, the judge and the opposing counsel. Nobody scales over double barriers, with a casual leap.
But what does our “Just-called-to-the-Bar fellow want? He wants to have a life of pleasure, comfort and relaxation, of breaking very little sweat.
To such fellows, poring over case-files is a pain, studying law reports and researching authorities, a horror, not to talk of drafting and re-drafting processes, a high crime.
What our new wig wants is to spend a few hours in chambers reading soft-sell magazines or leafing through one or two documents before checking out for break and after another hour or so, close for the day. If he goes to court, he hopes to be out of the premises of the court-house before 11.00am.
And as their ilk argue, “Too much stress spoil fine boy!”
The lazy new wig cannot bear working on in the office beyond 6.00pm. And except the sun rises in the west and the moon turns pink, he will never be in the chambers on a Saturday.
Work for weekend? Tu fiaka! Am I a slave? Mr. Jelenke lawyer queries and even further-“How much are they paying me sef?”
No senior counsel employs a junior in the hope of nursing a liability. The junior is expected to add value to the chamber, and a continuous asset for that matter.
Clearly a lazy bone junior is no way an asset to his employer’s chambers. Rather he is a liability and in some situations, worse than a curse. My advice to lazy bone junior lawyer is to set up shop themselves, where they’ll be masters and mistresses of their own and even more important, take things easy. When that happens, water, as they say will quickly finds its level. To be continued…
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
LOCATIONAL ARITHMETICS By Adesina Ogunlana
Is 2+2 always 4? Constantly 4? Permanently 4? Invariably 4? Absolutely 4? Perpetually 4?
Do you know the answer? If you don’t it is sure proof that you are not an initiate of the supremely poignant science of Locational Arithmetics.
Of course a traditional mathematicial believes and will always believe that 2+2 will automatically and exclusively answer 4.
But we know better. 2+2 is not necessarily 4. it can be 7 or 50, or 1. In fact, it can be anything. And in this contention, the Lord is on my side or better and more truly still, I am on the side of the Lord.
Or is it not written in the Holy Bible that “in the eye of the Lord, a thousand years is like a day and a day like a thousand years?”
To those who are taught and believe in Rigid Mathematics to wit Traditional Mathematics, the scripture afore-mentioned is nothing but an instance of celestial tomfoolery.
For, they are bound to ask, how can a thousand years, if indeed it is a thousand years be like a day – when a day is just a day (24 hours) while a thousand years is a whopping 356,000 days? That, I guess is like saying that the antlers of a reindeer is like the ‘horns’ of a snail!
But we Locational Arithmeticians have no problem with that at all! We know for a truth that the universe is an amoeba and the inhabitants thereof are like changelings or chameleons.
You see the chameleon indeed is the true symbol of the universe’s perpetually changing faces and phases. When his habitat is brown, the ‘leon is in tandem, when orange, the ‘leon leans toward that range, when it becomes black, the ‘leon is not slack to become a fellow of the order of the soot!
In a single planet, there are many worlds and in these different worlds are thousands of varied experiences.
What is, is what, what is is as at when and by who determining what is? You can’t comprehend? Let’s take the issue of prison terms, for an illustration of the seeming puzzle.
Let’s say on January 1, 2009 (Gregorian Calender) a man was jailed by a court for 2 years. When will his jail term end?
The ordinary answer is “December 2010.” Of course that answer is not correct, for when it is August 2010, his jailers will let him out of confinement.
This is because in the world of the prison, a year does not comprise 12 months, or 52 weeks. Rather a year (in the eye) of the prison system has only 8 months, as known in the Gregorian Calendar.
Why is this so? The answer is found in the science of Locational Arithmetics.
In the “outside” world, a week has 7 days, two which days, Saturday and Sunday are days when officially people don’t work.
Only in the prison however, there is, in the eye of the “owners, founders and authorities” of the place no “non-work” days. Every day is a working day for the time server, after all his ‘work’ in the prison yard is to serve time.
Thus in the world of the prison, time is calculated in this fashion:
(1) a week is five days and not seven days
(2) a month therefore is 20 days and not thirty or thirty one days
(3) thus a year is 12 months of 20 days each, making a total of 240 days instead of the normal 365 days.
In prison, 7 days is one week plus two days. There is no weekend as known in the outside world.
If you are still arguing this by now, I have a simple advice for you. You go and get yourself a jail term and see when you will come out!
Do you know the answer? If you don’t it is sure proof that you are not an initiate of the supremely poignant science of Locational Arithmetics.
Of course a traditional mathematicial believes and will always believe that 2+2 will automatically and exclusively answer 4.
But we know better. 2+2 is not necessarily 4. it can be 7 or 50, or 1. In fact, it can be anything. And in this contention, the Lord is on my side or better and more truly still, I am on the side of the Lord.
Or is it not written in the Holy Bible that “in the eye of the Lord, a thousand years is like a day and a day like a thousand years?”
To those who are taught and believe in Rigid Mathematics to wit Traditional Mathematics, the scripture afore-mentioned is nothing but an instance of celestial tomfoolery.
For, they are bound to ask, how can a thousand years, if indeed it is a thousand years be like a day – when a day is just a day (24 hours) while a thousand years is a whopping 356,000 days? That, I guess is like saying that the antlers of a reindeer is like the ‘horns’ of a snail!
But we Locational Arithmeticians have no problem with that at all! We know for a truth that the universe is an amoeba and the inhabitants thereof are like changelings or chameleons.
You see the chameleon indeed is the true symbol of the universe’s perpetually changing faces and phases. When his habitat is brown, the ‘leon is in tandem, when orange, the ‘leon leans toward that range, when it becomes black, the ‘leon is not slack to become a fellow of the order of the soot!
In a single planet, there are many worlds and in these different worlds are thousands of varied experiences.
What is, is what, what is is as at when and by who determining what is? You can’t comprehend? Let’s take the issue of prison terms, for an illustration of the seeming puzzle.
Let’s say on January 1, 2009 (Gregorian Calender) a man was jailed by a court for 2 years. When will his jail term end?
The ordinary answer is “December 2010.” Of course that answer is not correct, for when it is August 2010, his jailers will let him out of confinement.
This is because in the world of the prison, a year does not comprise 12 months, or 52 weeks. Rather a year (in the eye) of the prison system has only 8 months, as known in the Gregorian Calendar.
Why is this so? The answer is found in the science of Locational Arithmetics.
In the “outside” world, a week has 7 days, two which days, Saturday and Sunday are days when officially people don’t work.
Only in the prison however, there is, in the eye of the “owners, founders and authorities” of the place no “non-work” days. Every day is a working day for the time server, after all his ‘work’ in the prison yard is to serve time.
Thus in the world of the prison, time is calculated in this fashion:
(1) a week is five days and not seven days
(2) a month therefore is 20 days and not thirty or thirty one days
(3) thus a year is 12 months of 20 days each, making a total of 240 days instead of the normal 365 days.
In prison, 7 days is one week plus two days. There is no weekend as known in the outside world.
If you are still arguing this by now, I have a simple advice for you. You go and get yourself a jail term and see when you will come out!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
'AND A CALL CAME THROUGH' By Adesina Ogunlana
Agnes knew that a quarrel with her husband Addeh was inevitable. While she was very interested in attending a big “owambe” party by a friend of their family in Ilesha, Addeh was not keen at all.
She decided to battle him early. So as early as 5.30 am, she had jumped out of the bed and started making preparations. When it was 6.50 am, she breezily announced to Addeh who was still in bed, “Dear, you have to get up now for your bath. You know we are going to Ilesa today.” The loud declaration forced its way into Addeh’s hearing. He opened an eye and grunted, “What did you say? Ilesa?”
“Yes we are going to Ilesa for chief’s party,” Agnes replied even more breezily. Her husband now groaned and said “Oh my God, not today. I am so tired. Ilesa? Ah, no, no, Ilesa is too far.” “Don’t worry about the distance. I have asked Kayode to come to work today to drive us down,” Agnes explained.
“But you know I don’t have the time. I have a very serious trial on Monday. I must still get to the chambers today.”
“When will you ever have time, you this man? Work, work, everytime. Chief will not be happy if we don’t attend his father’s burial. We’ll be there together. You are fond of giving excuses every time. Your cases are always more important, than the happiness of your home. Are you the only lawyer in Lagos? Agnes said sourly.
“Will you stop that? There you go again with your annoying queries,” said Addeh, annoyed that sleep had cleared from his eyes.
Suddenly Agnes changed tack as she swept down to Addeh and hugged him. But Addeh got even more irritated and scrambled up to his feet.
“No need for all that. I’ll go with you.”
The journey to Ilesa was smooth but rather quiet. Addeh buried his head in two big files, almost all through the three hour journey, much to the annoyance of his wife who so badly wanted to chat with him. Even when she offered him on-the-road snacks, he only nibbled at them absentmindedly while mumbling occasionally to himself.
The party was a success as far as Agnes was concerned. There was enough to eat and drink and ample opportunity to dance. She loved to dance and particularly with her husband.
Addeh however did not “catch fire.” He was just going through the motions of greeting friends and acquaintances. He ate distractedly.
The journey back to Lagos was also smooth. And, quiet. Addeh slept all through. The rest was strategic, for later at about 2.00am, he woke up and headed straight to his study. To face those files again.
The barrister managed to attend church service but escaped straight to his chambers, once it was 1.00pm. and he did not come back home until 10.00pm.
Though weary, he was happy. In his happiness it took him some time to realize that Agnes was rather glum.
“Ha, sis, where are my kids? My opponents will smell pepper tomorrow” said he, addressing Agnes, who was curled up on a seat, a scowl on her face.
“Welcome O, Lagos lawyer. Your kids are asleep sir. We should thank God that you have time for us now, since Friday?” said Agnes coldly.
It was time for Addeh to be in a chatty mood and for Agnes to be sober and quiet. As Addeh ate his dinner, he continued to regale his wife with stories of his deep preparation for the case. He concluded with a boast: “See, even if they (the adverse party) should wake up both F.R.A Williams and Gani Fawehinmi from the dead and line them against me, I can’t lose the case. I am bringing an expert in philately all the way from Gambia for this case.”
The next morning, Barrister Addeh was the first counsel to be in court. His expert witness and his client came in together, a few minutes after. The time was 8.25am.
When it was 8.46am, Addeh sighted the opposing counsel, a fat, pompous and garrulous lawyer trundling in to the court with his customary self important airs.
“You are in for a shock today, you and your client,” said Addeh to himself. Suddenly an idea flashed into Addeh’s mind. He quietly glanced at his watch which indicated 8.50am.
“I just have to check this up,” muttered Addeh as he rushed out of the court and half sprinted to the court library. It was 8.58pm when he sprinted out of the library.
He was out of breath when he reached the door of the court. Just then the court registrar called out his case, “ID/12999/11 Sogolongo Nigeria Ltd.vs Ologose Electricals!” Addeh stopped dead in his tracks. He could not see the judge in his customary place or anywhere else in the court. What was happening?
“Are parties present? Counsel, which date? Asked the registrar.”Date?” ejaculated Addeh, looking quite bewildered.
“Oh sorry counsel, but milord is not sitting today he went for a seminar,” answered the court registrar.
POSTSCRIPT:
Last week, a call came through to me. The voice on the other end said “Good evening Mr. Ogunlana. Milord asked me to tell you not to bother to come tomorrow for your matter before us, as the judgement is not ready yet. His Lordship also said for you to pass the message to the counsel on the other side.”
The piece is my way of saying “Thank you milord, for the call.”
She decided to battle him early. So as early as 5.30 am, she had jumped out of the bed and started making preparations. When it was 6.50 am, she breezily announced to Addeh who was still in bed, “Dear, you have to get up now for your bath. You know we are going to Ilesa today.” The loud declaration forced its way into Addeh’s hearing. He opened an eye and grunted, “What did you say? Ilesa?”
“Yes we are going to Ilesa for chief’s party,” Agnes replied even more breezily. Her husband now groaned and said “Oh my God, not today. I am so tired. Ilesa? Ah, no, no, Ilesa is too far.” “Don’t worry about the distance. I have asked Kayode to come to work today to drive us down,” Agnes explained.
“But you know I don’t have the time. I have a very serious trial on Monday. I must still get to the chambers today.”
“When will you ever have time, you this man? Work, work, everytime. Chief will not be happy if we don’t attend his father’s burial. We’ll be there together. You are fond of giving excuses every time. Your cases are always more important, than the happiness of your home. Are you the only lawyer in Lagos? Agnes said sourly.
“Will you stop that? There you go again with your annoying queries,” said Addeh, annoyed that sleep had cleared from his eyes.
Suddenly Agnes changed tack as she swept down to Addeh and hugged him. But Addeh got even more irritated and scrambled up to his feet.
“No need for all that. I’ll go with you.”
The journey to Ilesa was smooth but rather quiet. Addeh buried his head in two big files, almost all through the three hour journey, much to the annoyance of his wife who so badly wanted to chat with him. Even when she offered him on-the-road snacks, he only nibbled at them absentmindedly while mumbling occasionally to himself.
The party was a success as far as Agnes was concerned. There was enough to eat and drink and ample opportunity to dance. She loved to dance and particularly with her husband.
Addeh however did not “catch fire.” He was just going through the motions of greeting friends and acquaintances. He ate distractedly.
The journey back to Lagos was also smooth. And, quiet. Addeh slept all through. The rest was strategic, for later at about 2.00am, he woke up and headed straight to his study. To face those files again.
The barrister managed to attend church service but escaped straight to his chambers, once it was 1.00pm. and he did not come back home until 10.00pm.
Though weary, he was happy. In his happiness it took him some time to realize that Agnes was rather glum.
“Ha, sis, where are my kids? My opponents will smell pepper tomorrow” said he, addressing Agnes, who was curled up on a seat, a scowl on her face.
“Welcome O, Lagos lawyer. Your kids are asleep sir. We should thank God that you have time for us now, since Friday?” said Agnes coldly.
It was time for Addeh to be in a chatty mood and for Agnes to be sober and quiet. As Addeh ate his dinner, he continued to regale his wife with stories of his deep preparation for the case. He concluded with a boast: “See, even if they (the adverse party) should wake up both F.R.A Williams and Gani Fawehinmi from the dead and line them against me, I can’t lose the case. I am bringing an expert in philately all the way from Gambia for this case.”
The next morning, Barrister Addeh was the first counsel to be in court. His expert witness and his client came in together, a few minutes after. The time was 8.25am.
When it was 8.46am, Addeh sighted the opposing counsel, a fat, pompous and garrulous lawyer trundling in to the court with his customary self important airs.
“You are in for a shock today, you and your client,” said Addeh to himself. Suddenly an idea flashed into Addeh’s mind. He quietly glanced at his watch which indicated 8.50am.
“I just have to check this up,” muttered Addeh as he rushed out of the court and half sprinted to the court library. It was 8.58pm when he sprinted out of the library.
He was out of breath when he reached the door of the court. Just then the court registrar called out his case, “ID/12999/11 Sogolongo Nigeria Ltd.vs Ologose Electricals!” Addeh stopped dead in his tracks. He could not see the judge in his customary place or anywhere else in the court. What was happening?
“Are parties present? Counsel, which date? Asked the registrar.”Date?” ejaculated Addeh, looking quite bewildered.
“Oh sorry counsel, but milord is not sitting today he went for a seminar,” answered the court registrar.
POSTSCRIPT:
Last week, a call came through to me. The voice on the other end said “Good evening Mr. Ogunlana. Milord asked me to tell you not to bother to come tomorrow for your matter before us, as the judgement is not ready yet. His Lordship also said for you to pass the message to the counsel on the other side.”
The piece is my way of saying “Thank you milord, for the call.”
Monday, November 2, 2009
'Expired Terror' By Adesina Ogunlana
It is not every day, you hear what I describe as a “comprehensive judgement”. But last Friday, it was my good fortune to be there when D. Okuwobi, honourable judge of the Lagos State High Court put a judicial and judicious end to a six-year old case in her court.
It was to say the least, a deep and well thought out judicial delivery. Industry was apparent. Scholarship was present. Save for a few understandable hiccups, the delivery was great.
At the end of the day, one had to resist the impulse of giving the honourable judge a pat on the back (literally) - for the simple reason, that such is never done, and even if such were ever done, who am I or my fathers before me?
This piece however, is - sorry to disappoint you, not about Okuwobi J (whose tribe we pray should increase in the Lagos state judiciary and who I sincerely believe ought to be placed, since yesterday, upstairs).
It is about another judge. A judge I saw, seated anonymously - on a chair in the bare reception. This judge was dressed in an agbada out-fit with a deep blue cap, worn in a partial cylinder (Aro onifila gogoro) style. His presence reminded me of a potentate of a rustic kingdom in South-West Nigeria.
I recognised the man immediately but offered no greetings. But except for the two or three other people, who apparently were in his company, no other person seemed to recognize him and if they ever did, offered no salutations or otherwise gave any hint of recognition.
I simply marveled at the ways of the world, for you need to have known this man in the prime of his power as a serving judge.
It is doubtful whether you can get more than a handful of lawyers, who knew him as a serving judge in the 80s and 90s and who appeared before him, who would not shudder with revulsion at the mention of his name.
If ever a judge was a terror and a bully to legal practitioners, this man was. Deflating lawyers’ egos appeared to be his hobby and ridiculing them in open court, a common past-time.
I was there in 1997 when he reduced a lady lawyer to a trembling mass of tears. I was there when he scathingly lampooned a lawyer as a “fuji” musician and harrumphed when the lawyer said he was an Ibadan based legal practitioner. "Little wonder," snorted Mr. High and Mighty Judge.
I was also there, where he from his Olympian throne destroyed the dignity of another practitioner, by grandiosely uttering the following words. “After listening to a beautiful but empty submission, I have no hesitation whatsoever, in dismissing this application. Young man, did you say you practice in Maza-Maza? You go back there and read up your law books. If I gave you five million naira this rainy morning, as you demanded, you think you’ll work again in your life?”
I cannot forget what happened when my case, an application for certiorari was called for the first time in this judge’s court.
JUDGE: Yes counsel, what’s this matter about?
COUNSEL: Milord, it is an application for leave to obtain an order of certiorari
JUDGE: (shouting and jumping up his seat, at the same time) Mandamus! Prohibition! Certiorari all are prerogative writs. Go to Appeal! I rise!
And just like that, the judge retired to his chambers. Thirty minutes later he came back to the court only to ask: “Youngman, you are still standing there?” He heard the application perfunctorily and perfunctorily granted the leave sought.
At the next hearing date, when I was to move the application proper, the judge struck it out, in my humble view, peremptorily, wrongly and unjustifiably.
It was a rainy May morning day and time 9:03am. The matter was number one in the list. This scenario now played itself out.
COUNSEL: My lord, subject to the convenience of the honourable court, we are ready to move our application.
JUDGE: Where are the applicants?
COUNSEL: Milord, I am sorry the applicants are not right here in the court. They are on their way. I am sure it is the rain that has slowed them down.
JUDGE: it is raining but I am here all the way from Ikoyi and you too, despite the rain, are here. An application for certiorari is a serious thing and should be treated that way. The applicants can’t stay in their homes and get it. I will strike out this application.
COUNSEL: Milord, I beg the court not to strike out our application. The applicants were in court on Monday and will come today.
JUDGE: Application is hereby struck out!
Last Friday, Mr. High and Mighty Judge, was just any other citizen of the land. He started his career in the court as a lawyer and even became the chairman of his local branch. Thereafter he became a judge in the same court. Now he is but a mere litigant.
A litigant who hopes on and depends on the judgement of the new faces on the bench. That’s life my dears, and the story of Mr. Justice Ishola Olorun-Nimbe.
At least as I know it.
Igba o tan lo bi orere.
Orere omo olofin
*check out squib stories by clicking link below: http://www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
It was to say the least, a deep and well thought out judicial delivery. Industry was apparent. Scholarship was present. Save for a few understandable hiccups, the delivery was great.
At the end of the day, one had to resist the impulse of giving the honourable judge a pat on the back (literally) - for the simple reason, that such is never done, and even if such were ever done, who am I or my fathers before me?
This piece however, is - sorry to disappoint you, not about Okuwobi J (whose tribe we pray should increase in the Lagos state judiciary and who I sincerely believe ought to be placed, since yesterday, upstairs).
It is about another judge. A judge I saw, seated anonymously - on a chair in the bare reception. This judge was dressed in an agbada out-fit with a deep blue cap, worn in a partial cylinder (Aro onifila gogoro) style. His presence reminded me of a potentate of a rustic kingdom in South-West Nigeria.
I recognised the man immediately but offered no greetings. But except for the two or three other people, who apparently were in his company, no other person seemed to recognize him and if they ever did, offered no salutations or otherwise gave any hint of recognition.
I simply marveled at the ways of the world, for you need to have known this man in the prime of his power as a serving judge.
It is doubtful whether you can get more than a handful of lawyers, who knew him as a serving judge in the 80s and 90s and who appeared before him, who would not shudder with revulsion at the mention of his name.
If ever a judge was a terror and a bully to legal practitioners, this man was. Deflating lawyers’ egos appeared to be his hobby and ridiculing them in open court, a common past-time.
I was there in 1997 when he reduced a lady lawyer to a trembling mass of tears. I was there when he scathingly lampooned a lawyer as a “fuji” musician and harrumphed when the lawyer said he was an Ibadan based legal practitioner. "Little wonder," snorted Mr. High and Mighty Judge.
I was also there, where he from his Olympian throne destroyed the dignity of another practitioner, by grandiosely uttering the following words. “After listening to a beautiful but empty submission, I have no hesitation whatsoever, in dismissing this application. Young man, did you say you practice in Maza-Maza? You go back there and read up your law books. If I gave you five million naira this rainy morning, as you demanded, you think you’ll work again in your life?”
I cannot forget what happened when my case, an application for certiorari was called for the first time in this judge’s court.
JUDGE: Yes counsel, what’s this matter about?
COUNSEL: Milord, it is an application for leave to obtain an order of certiorari
JUDGE: (shouting and jumping up his seat, at the same time) Mandamus! Prohibition! Certiorari all are prerogative writs. Go to Appeal! I rise!
And just like that, the judge retired to his chambers. Thirty minutes later he came back to the court only to ask: “Youngman, you are still standing there?” He heard the application perfunctorily and perfunctorily granted the leave sought.
At the next hearing date, when I was to move the application proper, the judge struck it out, in my humble view, peremptorily, wrongly and unjustifiably.
It was a rainy May morning day and time 9:03am. The matter was number one in the list. This scenario now played itself out.
COUNSEL: My lord, subject to the convenience of the honourable court, we are ready to move our application.
JUDGE: Where are the applicants?
COUNSEL: Milord, I am sorry the applicants are not right here in the court. They are on their way. I am sure it is the rain that has slowed them down.
JUDGE: it is raining but I am here all the way from Ikoyi and you too, despite the rain, are here. An application for certiorari is a serious thing and should be treated that way. The applicants can’t stay in their homes and get it. I will strike out this application.
COUNSEL: Milord, I beg the court not to strike out our application. The applicants were in court on Monday and will come today.
JUDGE: Application is hereby struck out!
Last Friday, Mr. High and Mighty Judge, was just any other citizen of the land. He started his career in the court as a lawyer and even became the chairman of his local branch. Thereafter he became a judge in the same court. Now he is but a mere litigant.
A litigant who hopes on and depends on the judgement of the new faces on the bench. That’s life my dears, and the story of Mr. Justice Ishola Olorun-Nimbe.
At least as I know it.
Igba o tan lo bi orere.
Orere omo olofin
*check out squib stories by clicking link below: http://www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
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