When Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV took the throne of the kingdom of Toro, the world remembered him as the youngest monarch on the planet. He reigned for three decades. In August this year, Uganda's government announced he had died - at 34, of cancer, in circumstances shrouded in mystery. No wife, no visible heir. At least, that's how it looked at first glance.

Then the will spoke. According to custom in the country, the king named his heir in secret, and the document, the family says, states in black and white that the throne should go to his own son. The problem is that the leaders of the Babiito clan had another plan - and that plan proved faster than the dead man's wishes.

From the TV studio to the throne

The succession committee chose Edward Rukidi - a well-known journalist and TV presenter, a face audiences knew from the small screen rather than from royal portraits. He is the son of the late Prince Christopher Paul and a grandson of King George Rukidi III, which makes him a cousin of the late king. The choice has historical justification in the bloodline. The proclamation is scheduled for today, Tuesday, September 29.

The country is decorating for the new king, but one woman is spoiling the ceremony: Oyo's mother. She insists that her son left a direct heir, named by him personally, and that it is that child who should sit on the throne. Not the cousin from television.

The royal family went to the High Court and asked for an injunction that would halt the celebrations and the coronation until the court rules on the main lawsuit. The argument is simple: the king's last will is written down, and someone has to respect it. The clan, for its part, invokes custom. Both sides claim to be defending tradition - they're just each defending a different one.

Here comes the irony. The kingdom of Toro is historically significant, but today it has no political power whatsoever - its role is symbolic and traditional. A war is being fought over a crown that brings no power. Or maybe that is exactly why it's so fierce: when power is only a symbol, the symbol becomes everything.

The Balkans know all too well what family feuds look like over a will someone doesn't want read out loud, and relatives who suddenly remember custom when it works in their favour. In Toro, what's on the table isn't a field or a flat, but a throne. Will the court honour the wishes of the dead king or the rules of the living clan?