In a stunning display of irony that strikes at the very heart of Kenya’s judicial accessibility, a landmark petition seeking to make Kiswahili a mandatory language in court proceedings has been paralysed by the Judiciary’s inability to find a single certified translator.

The scene at the Milimani Law Courts on Wednesday was one of baffling bureaucratic inertia. High Court Justice Bahati Mwamuye, presiding over a case that could fundamentally reshape the country’s legal landscape, was forced to admit that the Judiciary is "stretched thin." The petition, filed by businessman Enock Aura and championed by lawyer Harrison Kinyanjui, was drafted entirely in Kiswahili—a historic first intended to assert the language’s constitutional status. Yet, five months after the court ordered the registry to procure a translator to type out the proceedings in both English and Kiswahili, the file remains gathering dust, untouched and untranslated.

The Irony of Linguistic Exclusion

This delay is not merely a logistical hiccup; it is a profound indictment of a system that still operates largely in the colonial shadow of the English language. Lawyer Harrison Kinyanjui did not mince his words, questioning how an institution funded by the taxpayer could fail to provide a service as basic as translation for the national language. "It is embarrassing that five months down the line, we are still talking about the lack of a translator," Kinyanjui argued. "This is a petition about the right to be heard in a language that the majority of Kenyans understand, yet the court itself is demonstrating the very barrier we are fighting to remove."

The petitioner, Enock Aura, seeks a declaration that the exclusive use of English in superior courts is unconstitutional. His argument is rooted in Article 7 of the Constitution, which elevates Kiswahili to an official language. However, the reality on the ground—as exposed by Justice Mwamuye’s admission—is that the infrastructure to support this constitutional ideal is non-existent. The judge cited a shortage of personnel and resources, a "We`re stretched thin" defense that offers little comfort to millions of Kenyans who find the legalese of the courtrooms alienating and incomprehensible.

• The Constitutional Imperative: The case argues that justice cannot be truly served if the litigant cannot understand the process. The failure to provide a translator denies the petitioner his right to a fair hearing.
• Resource Allocation Questions: Pundits are now asking where the Judiciary’s budget is going if it cannot afford to hire ad-hoc translators for significant public interest litigation.
• A Systemic Blind Spot: This incident reveals a broader systemic reluctance to fully embrace Kiswahili, treating it as a ceremonial language rather than a functional tool of justice.

A Test Case for Judicial Reform

Justice Mwamuye has now issued a fresh directive, ordering the court registry to move with speed and secure a translator before the next mention. But the damage to public confidence is already palpable. If the High Court, situated in the capital city of Nairobi, struggles with this, what is the fate of a litigant in a remote magistrate`s court in Turkana or Kwale? The "stretched thin" narrative feeds into a growing perception of a Judiciary that is detached from the "Wanjiku" it serves.

As the case awaits its next hearing, the eyes of legal scholars and civil rights activists are fixed on Milimani. This is no longer just about a translator; it is about the soul of the Kenyan legal system. Will it remain an exclusive club of English speakers, or will it finally open its doors to the language of the people? Until the Judiciary puts its money where its mouth is, justice remains not just blind, but deaf to the tongue of the nation.