Pa Umoekeyo Abasiene Uno, an eighty-year-old lawyer from Akwa Ibom State, speaks to PATRICK ODEY about his life experiences

Tell us a bit about yourself.

I am Umoekeyo Abasiene Uno. Umoekeyo means: “Wealth cannot be compared to children. Abasiene means “God created”, while Uno means “To be alone once”.

I was born in the family of Uno Abasiene Uno of Eyo-Ulo Oro in Urue Offong/Oruko Local Government Area of ​​Akwa Ibom State. My father had four wives. My mother was the third wife and she had 13 of us (children) – 10 men and three women. I am the only survivor.

What do you remember from your childhood?

My father’s claim was very large. We have all lived there. We have experienced a polygamous family system. My father’s name was Uno Abasi Uno, while my mother was Arit Isinemin Antai. She didn’t take my father’s last name. Of my mother’s 13 children, only nine of us – seven boys and two girls – survived childhood. So I only heard of the other four, I didn’t meet them alive when I was born.

When were you born?

I was born on December 21, 1941, during World War II. I was in my mother’s womb when the salt crisis hit in mid-1941. While carrying my pregnancy, my mother was among 13 women who faced off against the English administrators in protest at the shortage of salt in the time. The story was that the women of Oron, led by Helen Ekeyo, continued to challenge and demand a fair share of salt in our area, which is present day Akwa Ibom State, made up of three nationalities, the Annang , the Ibibis and the Oron.

Let me point out here that these three nationalities had existed for years apart from the Calabar and the Igbo but remained here mainly as the Ibibio, Annang and Oron. With the salt crisis, the wife (Helen Ekeyo) challenged the sharing formula in favor of Oron and stood against the district officer, pointing her finger at the district officer’s mouth, which led to his conviction and imprisonment for 14 days; the prison term was later reduced to 12 days.

My mother told me that she was very pregnant with me at the time of the demonstration and that I was born in December of that year.

There was an incident that I still remember. In 1949, when I was eight years old, my first sister gave birth to a pair of male twins. And my mother and other women gathered outside the house crying. When I asked my mom what happened, she said my older sister had given birth to a set of male twins and I said, “So why are you crying? Isn’t that a joy? But one of the women scolded me because I said they shouldn’t cry. When I argued that these children were a gift from God, the women laughed and abused me. But I wasn’t moved, instead I told them to allow me to take custody of one of the twins and look after them while my sister looked after the other. They laugh.

At what age did you start school?

I wasn’t sent to school early, even though I was considered a bright kid. I was sent to Uruko market to trade. I started doing business around 1952. I was doing business when I was a kid. During this time, I was trying to help children who had been rejected from school. Two of my age mates, Etim Uko and Etim Edet Ekerenduo, who have just retired as federal permanent secretary, were sent to school and I was giving them sugar. And every time I went to school, my friends were happy to see me. Later in life, when I became a lawyer, one of them working with UP gave me a warrant as a token of our enduring friendship. He then took me to the Presidential Commission in Kaduna for a year between 1999 and 2000. I used this (opportunity) to establish many things in my life. I have always protested against what is not good, oppression in all its forms, especially the oppression of women.

How did you finally go to school?

Eventually I attended Akai Elementary School where I got my first school leaving certificate in 1961. And the story behind how I was eventually educated is why the theme of my 80th birthday celebration is “To whom much is given, much is expected”. ‘

Later, my mother decided that I should go to school. So she took me to her sister somewhere in Eyabiasang to enroll me in school. During my studies, I was doing well even though I started late. I then moved to somewhere in the land of Ibibio, Ikot Oku Udo and got my first school leaving certificate at Akai Practice School in 1961.

In 1962, I was admitted to Methodist Boys High School but couldn’t continue because my mother couldn’t afford the tuition. I stayed at home for five years. Later I returned to MBHS and completed my education in 1970 during the Biafra war.

It was then that I sat the entrance exam for the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, to read law. This surprised my friends because they thought I would go to science because I was good at math, but I always wanted to be a lawyer.

What’s it like to be a lawyer you love?

The beauty of debate is what made me love law as a profession. In school, I was the leader of the Debating Society. I remember in 1959 Dr Mfon Amana of good memory was in Standard 6 while I was in Standard 4 and we had a trial session in our dormitory. They used to arrest people and take them to the dormitory court to hear them. A case arose and I challenged the dormitory court. Mfon was charged with reckless and indecent dressing and I argued that the dormitory court did not have the “power” (jurisdiction) to decide this. My argument was that Mfon was not a boarder and could not be regulated by the standards that applied to those who lived in the dormitory. The professor accepted my argument and Mfon Amana was exonerated. Later in 1999, when I met Mfon after he was appointed to the presidential commission, he told me he understood that what I described as the “power” of the dormitory court at the time at school, is properly called jurisdiction. We laughed about it. The experiences of those days undoubtedly played a major role in my choice of career in law.

In your practice as a lawyer, what are some of the notable cases you have handled?

I have been at the forefront of the fight for justice and fairness. One of them concerns the fact that the male child is considered more important than the female child when it comes to inheritance. I have always maintained that the female child should not be deceived. This perspective has come to define my practice as a lawyer. The customary court of Oron gives more importance to the male child than to the female child. But my agreement was based on article 42 of the constitution which says “No Nigerian shall be discriminated against on the basis of sex, religion and tribe”. In Oron, I challenged a case in court on this basis. Generally, I don’t like one group cheating on another.

I also pushed against the cheating and relegation of the Oron nation by the Nigerian nation. The Oron nation has been relegated to a single group, to deny us the opportunity to get a taste of leadership.

I also asked the question: “If the police are going to arrest the husband, can they arrest the wife in her absence, to force the husband to come to the police?” My argument is that a woman must be protected. It is because of this that I was appointed to the Council of Legal Education. I stayed there for five years. But there, I also encountered problems because I am part of a minority group.

Many lawyers look forward to becoming Senior Advocates of Nigeria, but others do not care about the title. Where are you on this subject?

I’ve lost interest in pursuing the SAN case. The Nigerian factor plays into everything, even the justice system. Imagine what happens at the Supreme Court. I tried to have my own position, it didn’t work.

I had a lawyer of Mbo origin in Oron, who went to court and demanded that they account for the local administration (funding). Assam Assam was in this case and I raised a very important issue that an individual could not come to the Supreme Court for the first time and demand it. The Supreme Court agreed with me. But they didn’t allow me to use this case as a key case (to apply for the SAN title) because they said they didn’t give a thoughtful judgment. But that wasn’t a problem for me because the objection was successful.

That’s why I lost interest in pursuing the SAN case. Since then, I don’t think I’ve applied again. The reality is that being a SAN doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the best lawyer in town, and just being a good lawyer doesn’t guarantee you’ll become a SAN. As I said crystal express newspaper last year, what happened was that a senior lawyer was just recommending junior lawyers from his firm. Many people can confirm what I say. It is a sad situation here in Nigeria.

At 80, do you have any plans to retire from legal practice?

As long as I still have the strength, I will continue to go to court. I don’t regret having helped women. I argued for a girl’s rights to be equal to a boy’s and the Supreme Court agreed with me.

I have opposed several cases preventing women from owning land, especially in Igbo communities. A man sitting as a judge in Nigeria should not only sit in his village, where he will apply customs as the basis for judicial decisions. I campaigned for lawyers to have national freedom, which means a man from Oron can sit anywhere to dispense justice.

What are the things you are most grateful for?

My children are great lawyers; it is an exploit. In the Oron nation they thought a lawyer should die poor because he can’t do anything else. No! I don’t agree with that. I am happy to have started to see some of my colleagues agitating for girls to have the same rights as boys.

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