By Ajak Jok Ajak
Getting admitted to the Bar is every law student’s dream. Today, as Ajak Jok Ajak, one of our young lawyers gets admitted to the Bar, we are immensely proud of him and the journey it has taken to get to this day.
Ajak’s story on how he chose to study law and what his admission to the bar means to him is profound.
As we at Oraro & Company Advocates celebrate Ajak today, here is his story, told by himself, in his own words.
My full name is Ajak Jok Ajak. I was named after my grandfather, who was named after his grandfather. That is why Ajak is repeated twice. In the count of my lineage, Ajak is repeated over five times. In our clan, Ajak is a prestigious name. All the four ancestors called Ajak in the pedigree were to some extent great leaders. They provided hope in the times of darkness, strife, or hunger. The name is a derivative of “jak” in Dinka dialect, which means being wealthy or having riches. However, in our clan – Angakuei, it is mostly associated with levelheadedness, kindness, and generosity. I would be boasting if I said these traits speak to my personality. What I know about myself, is that I am calm and collected and as the Managing Partner at Oraro & Company Advocates Mrs. Pamella Ager has often told me, “Ajak you have grit. Many people would have given up if they faced the many challenges you have faced in life.” Yes, I am proud to say that I have grit. No one had told me that before Mrs. Ager did, but I now recognise that I have grit. I had grown up just trying to survive under my circumstances and never stopped to reflect on this.
After things went south in South Sudan (previously Sudan), I sought refuge in Kakuma Refugee Camp, which is where I grew up. Kakuma is a barren and arid area located in one of the poorest regions of Kenya, in the north-western part of the country. When I arrived, Kakuma was indeed a place of refuge. However, it lost lustre along the way. Although basic needs were provided by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), they were scarce and hardly enough to cater for all refugees. Food was distributed after every fifteen or so days and after ten days, it was depleted in almost all the refugee households. However, due to the Dinka communal lifestyle, we would eat at any relative’s houses. Still, by day twelve every household would have exhausted their ration and no amount of moving from one household to another or communal help would cure the hunger. As a result, days twelve to fifteen in every food distribution cycle were dubbed, “THE BLACK DAYS”. Kakuma became a place ripe with hopelessness and desperation. The only window of opportunity was if you were a ‘Lost Boy’ (unaccompanied minor) – as there was a chance of being resettled in the United States of America. Resettlement was, as it felt then, a one in a thousand chance. A long shot for me.
One of the biggest problems with refugeehood is that society relegates one to a second-class human being. One without rights and not deserving of dignified treatment or service. Refugees are restricted from engaging in many economic activities which can help them become self-reliant. Facilities are poorly equipped and inadequate, institutions understaffed, and resources are highly limited. Ultimately, the mood becomes that of unwelcomed visitor who has overstayed his visit. Nonetheless, with today’s testimony, it is a place of hope that after all, the ‘fittest’ can transform their circumstances through the limited opportunities (either scholarships or resettlement) in the camp.
While in the camp, I went to Turkana Nursery School, then to Shambe Primary Refugee Camp. At the time, going to school wasn’t really about getting an education. School was as a place you went primarily to eat as food was a rarity in refugee households. Schools were opened half-day (morning). I mostly used the afternoons to play or ‘struggle for existence’ (not hustle). This attitude would soon change with the constant nagging about school from my elder brother, the late Riak Jok Ajak. He believed that we were in some quagmire or entrapped in a poverty cycle that only we could bootstrap ourselves out of. He saw education as the only exit or pathway to a life beyond the refugee camp. This conviction is what informed my brother’s insistence on a commitment to education. He had seen the light, but I had not. He was brilliant and during his time, he managed to clinch the 2nd best performer in the Kenya Certificate of Primary Education (KCPE) national examination in the entire refugee camp and became a beneficiary of the JRS Scholarship which took him to Katilu Boys Secondary School.
Due to the incapacities of a young mind, I must admit that at the time, I was not so fond of my elder brother, to put it politely. Among the many ‘injustices’ he meted on me, was to cause me to be caned in front of the school parade because I missed school and went to the food distribution centre to sell some vegetables which I had cultivated. Hawking was one of the many activities that made school less attractive for me. Equally, playing in the dry rivers of Kakuma was an escape – it put me in a state of oblivion during which, for just a few blissful moments, I would not think about camp life. If I were to dwell on camp life, we would run out of paper or rather, space…
I never dreamt of being a lawyer. On occasion, I would fantasize about being an architect. I had an uncle, Samuel Ajak, who was reputed as one of the designers of the current currency of South Sudan. He was also on the path to being an architect and I aspired to be just like him. However, the journey to become a lawyer was inspired by one man, my elder brother, Riak. The same one who wanted me in school for the sole purpose of building a better future for our family, community, and other refugees. Riak’s inspiration was in turn fuelled by our father – Jok-agutgaar, who was a Sultan (local Chief). He presided over individual and communal disputes and to his generation, he was a man who embodied wisdom and justice. I never knew him. I know about him through the ‘tales of a wise Sultan’. The stories that those who knew him shared.
Riak dissuaded me from pursuing engineering. He said I very much resembled my father in demeanour and speech and that I was endowed with the qualities of a good ‘gadhi’ (judge), just as our father was. This was further annealed by the undertones of my teachers who would call me “Chief Justice”. I guess some things click easily – credit to my brother’s persistence. With this encouragement, I was fascinated and inspired to believe that dealing with human, social, economic, and political problems was better than artistic creations and designs. By the time I was in High School, I would brag that I could not spend my life around laboratories, apparatus, and chemicals because my heart was set on law.
In 2008, I passed my KCPE exams extremely well by camp standards. I was sponsored to Koelel Boys High School by the South Sudan Scholarship Foundation, which was founded by one of the ‘Lost Boys’ – Akech Thiong. Thereafter, I received the DAFI Scholarship administered by the Windle International Kenya to study law at Moi University. From there, I proceeded to join the Kenya School of Law to undertake my Advocates Training Program.
Fast forward to the present day, I am now a lawyer at Oraro & Company Advocates working with one of the litigation teams. Aside from the practice of law, I enjoy socializing and I have a keen interest in politics. I believe politics is the head and tail of every society and that it exists in every social grouping including amongst brothers and wider families. Essentially, I double up as a lawyer and an activist. I passionately advocate for socio-economic rights for refugees, participate in our local community welfare association and students’ leadership, where I will soon be exiting the role of an Acting Speaker & Clerk of Council of South Sudanese Students’ Association in Kenya (SSSAK). I am also a certified teacher or rabbi (Jol-Wo-Lieec Nhialic) in the Episcopal Church of South Sudan.
To wind down, I like to catch up with friends, play basketball, hike, and swim when the weather allows. I also read a lot and I am in many reading societies such as the Refugee Led Research Hub (RLRH) Book Club, an affiliate of Refugee Studies Centre, Oxford University. My favourite day of the week is Saturday, for obvious reasons that it gives me a chance to pack in a lot of these activities.
Looking back on my journey to where I am now, besides my elder brother, Oraro & Company Advocates has been the most important aspect of my career journey. The translation of abstract legal knowledge into practice to solve all kinds of issues for clients has been very fulfilling. I came to Oraro & Company without law firm experience as a pupil in 2020. The practice of law in a manner of quality and integrity was reinforced in me here. The firm has a friendly open-door policy where you learn from vibrant and accomplished advocates. The horrors of pupillage experiences usually rumoured in law school have no place at Oraro. I have been exposed to, unimaginably, complex legal matters in the country that have developed and increased my sense of responsibility, legal drafting, research skills, problem solving mindset, team spirit, and working under pressure which are vital to the fast-changing legal global marketplace. My Pupil Master, John Mbaluto, a meticulous mentor took it upon himself to ensure that I do not forget a comma where it ought to be or write judgment as judgement. By the end of our pupillage rotation across various departments, I had already realised that I was cut-out to be a legal practitioner specialising in litigation.
As I get admitted to the Bar today, I feel ecstatic. It is a feeling like no other. I cannot find a word to describe it. The hurdles were many, and I thank God, I made it. With this admission, just as I have been doing, I will continue advocating for the rights of refugees. I am already involved in various advocacy programs. I am happy that my supervisor, John Mbaluto, FCIArb, appreciate this as he gives me leeway to be present and active in various refugee-related activities. I have a lived experience of refugeehood, and I feel that I can identify with refugee issues better than others. This obligates me to give back to where I come from. Looking into the future, I hope that Oraro & Company someday spreads its wings to South Sudan’s emerging legal market and take advantage of the East Africa integration agenda. Or as the dream goes, set up a huge law firm with such a professional and friendly culture like Oraro & Company when the ‘time’ is right.
To my elder brother, Riak, you were right. Indeed, education is the key to all kinds of freedoms – of mind, of economy and for me – of paving a path for those who come after me. I give this day to you. Rest easy Riak, till we meet again!
