Love and Law: My Complicated Relationship with Legal Theory

By Olona Mzimba

I chose Legal Theory as one of my subjects because law is the field I want to work in. From before I came to university, my interest has always been in labour law. This passion comes from my parents, who are hardworking labourers but did not have the privilege of higher education. Growing up, I witnessed the struggles of ordinary working-class people, and I developed a desire to be a mouthpiece for them — to stand where they cannot and speak where they are not heard. What I did not realise, however, was that in order to specialise in one small area of law, such as labour law, I would first have to embrace the law in its entirety

When I first set foot on Rhodes University’s campus as a first-year Bachelor of Arts student, I never imagined how much one subject would define my journey: Legal Theory. It is my major, my favourite subject, and without a doubt my toughest. My relationship with it feels almost toxic at times. I love it deeply, but it refuses to make things easy.

Legal Theory has shaped not only my studies but also my identity. The subject demands discipline, and in meeting that demand, I have become more organised, punctual, and precise. I now arrive early to class, complete assignments on time, and work with a level of accuracy that reflects the seriousness of the legal profession. In this way, Legal Theory has pushed me to grow into a more disciplined and professional version of myself.

Still, the subject has a reputation for being difficult, and nearly everyone has something negative to say about it. That negativity can weigh on me, especially when I have a mountain of readings and cases to get through. Some of my peers have even dropped the subject entirely. But despite the frustration, I find myself drawn deeper into it. If I could, I would spend all my time on Legal Theory alone.

The workload is heavy, especially when it comes to case law. There are cases so long they could take me weeks to finish, and others that are so emotionally taxing that they stay with me long after I’ve read them. One such case was S v Loyiso Coko, a rape case I studied in my own time. In it, the complainant consented only to oral sex, but the accused forced penetration without her consent, leading to the charge of rape.

Reading this case was difficult, not only because of the legal questions it raised but also because, as a young woman in South Africa, rape is a frightening and familiar reality. Cases like this are never easy to confront, but they are necessary. They make me think deeply about how the law defines rape, how consent is understood, and how justice is interpreted by the state.

Despite the challenges, Legal Theory excites me. Learning about the history of South African law has sparked my curiosity and given me a sense of belonging in the legal space. Even with my little knowledge so far, I sometimes feel like a scholar already, and I can only imagine how much more grounded I will feel as I continue to grow.

Legal Theory may frustrate, overwhelm, and test me in ways I never expected, but it also inspires, shapes, and pushes me forward. My relationship with it may be complicated, but it is also worth every late night, every long case, and every difficult moment of doubt.

On the top shelf are volumes of "Commentary on the Criminal Procedure Act" by Du Toit, De Jager, Paizes, Skeen, and Van der Merwe, along with a volume from "Butterworths Statutes of South Africa".

The lower shelf holds multiple volumes of "Butterworths Statutes of South Africa" (2016 edition), published by LexisNexis, covering various parts of the South African legal code. These books are comprehensive compilations and annotations of South African laws, used by legal professionals for research, case preparation, and interpretation of legislation.