By Ajilong Brenda Joyce
As a Project Legal Officer in the Strategic Litigation Programme at CEHURD, I had always thought of a moot court as a “student competition.” However, watching a Supreme Court Justice pose a sharp constitutional question to a law student whose voice trembled with nervousness changed that perception. I realised that this was far more than a competition, it was a rehearsal for the demands of real courtroom advocacy.
The 13th CEHURD Annual National Inter-University Constitutional Law Moot Court Competition was held in Kampala from 24 to 25 September 2026. I had the privilege of attending the competition, which brought together law students from 17 universities to compete under the theme, “Reproductive and Gender Justice in Uganda: Navigating Constitutional Rights, Public Interest and Social Values.”
A “Rehearsal” for the Real Courtroom: The Weight on the Bench
The composition of the final-round bench was enough to make any practising lawyer nervous. The panel included Supreme Court Justice Hon. Lady Justice Catherine Bamugemereire, Hon. Retired Justice Fredrick Stephen Martin Egonda Ntende, Court of Appeal Justices Hon. Justice Geoffrey Wilfred Kiryabwire and Hon. Lady Justice Eva Luswata, and the Inspector General of Government, Hon. Lady Justice Aisha Naluzze Batala.
These judges were not merely playing a role in a simulation, they brought experience from actual courtrooms and legal disputes.
When Justice Bamugemereire began asking questions, the atmosphere in the room changed. Her questions moved beyond abstract legal principles and challenged students to consider the limits of judicial intervention. One question asked, “If the government claims insufficient resources, to what extent should the court intervene in policymaking?” I have heard this kind of question asked many times in constitutional cases litigated by CEHURD.
I noticed that many students, when faced with this level of questioning, instinctively began reciting their prepared material. The judges, however, pushed them to engage directly with the questions. Justice Kiryabwire used a football analogy to explain the importance of focused advocacy,
“You only have 20 minutes to score your goal. If you score in the first minute, the whole bench wakes up to listen to you. But if you are dribbling, they may miss your goal entirely.”
The Inspector General of Government, Lady Justice Naluzze Batala, was equally direct, observing that many participants “sounded more like they were presenting a dissertation than making a court submission.” Her observation captured a central lesson of the competition, knowing the law is not enough, an advocate must also communicate legal arguments clearly, directly and persuasively.
The Power of Procedure: From Robes to Time Management
As a Legal Officer, I paid particular attention to whether the students followed courtroom procedures. CEHURD’s competition rules explicitly require participating teams to appear fully robed. This was not merely a matter of formality. When students put on their robes and stood before the bench, the distance between a moot court and a real courtroom seemed to shrink.
The structure of the competition also reflected the demands of litigation. During the preliminary rounds, each team argued as both Applicant and Respondent. Each round was limited to 20 minutes, with the Applicant permitted to reserve up to five minutes for rebuttal. These time limits required participants to prioritise their strongest arguments, manage their time and respond strategically to the opposing side.
The hypothetical case in the final round concerned a fictional East African state called Ngetta, which was accused of failing to provide emergency health services and establish a legal framework guaranteeing young women and girls access to reproductive health services. This hypothetical case was not fabricated out of thin air. CEHURD chose the theme precisely because Uganda has real policy and legal gaps in the area of reproductive health rights. As CEHURD’s Deputy Executive Director, Noor Nakibuuka Musisi, put it, the moot problems “are usually drawn from the challenges we see in practice.”
The Judges’ “After-Class Tutoring”: The Moment More Important Than the Result
After the competition ended, the judges did not immediately leave the bench. Instead, they gave the students feedback, an opportunity for learning that would rarely arise in a real courtroom.
Justice Kiryabwire advised the students against telling judges, “I want to persuade you.” “Is it by force?” he asked. “You state your arguments and let the judges decide for themselves.” He also encouraged students to start attending real court proceedings early in their legal careers. Some universities had already begun taking students to observe court hearings and even allowing them to ask questions after the sessions.
Justice Luswata offered advice on a more technical level: students should not read facts verbatim but should learn to summarise them in their own words. As she advised, “A short, precise statement is far better than a fast, lengthy one.”
For me, this feedback highlighted the gap between learning legal principles and applying them in practice. In my work at CEHURD, I have seen that knowing the law does not automatically translate into effective courtroom communication. Advocates must learn to organise their thoughts, answer questions directly and make their submissions accessible to the bench. The judges’ feedback gave the students an opportunity to understand and practise these skills.
Conclusion
The Islamic University in Uganda (IUIU), Females Campus, ultimately won the championship, Alison Faith Kitimbo was named Best Oralist, and Uganda Christian University received the Best Memorial award. However, for many students, the most important gain was not a trophy but the experience of “standing in court” before senior judicial officers.
Working at CEHURD, I know that the future of our litigation work also depends on whether the next generation of lawyers is prepared to take on complex cases. Watching senior judicial officers take the students’ submissions seriously brought home the importance of exposing young advocates to the standards and expectations of real courtroom practice. The competition was not merely a contest; it was an investment in the next generation of constitutional litigators.
When a student, after being pressed by Justice Bamugemereire, took a deep breath, reorganised their thoughts and gave a more precise answer, I did not see failure. I saw the growth of a future lawyer.
The writer is a Project Legal Officer in the Strategic Litigation Programme at the Centre for Health, Human Rights and Development (CEHURD).
