Obliterating Protocol

Though Uganda is still a “developing country” by comparative world standards, its protocols and formalities are quite complex and exacting.  There is a particularized and expected method and order of introductions, of seating arrangements (even when riding in a car), and a manner high-ranking officials should be addressed and greeted.  This can be a minefield for the uninitiated.  On Thursday, I lost both of my legs, one arm, and an eye when I executed a cannon-ball dive onto a protocol mine.

This, of course, comes as no surprise to those who know me well.  I can be as dense as a pressurized slab of granite.  Fortunately, I was given the chance to demonstrate the depth of my obliviousness on Thursday to a packed ballroom of judges and lawyers.  And boy did I deliver.  The center fielder didn’t even take a step back as he watched my home run ball exit the stadium over his head.

The morning had started off promising enough, though about four hours earlier than I was hoping.  I am playing a losing game of hide and seek with Mr. Sandman.  Since I was already up, I got in a mini-marathon on a treadmill in my hotel.  I was drenched in sweat and breathing like a pneumonia-stricken asthmatic with only one lung, but I soldiered on and completed the entire mile, shattering the ten-minute barrier like it was merely a suggestion.

On my way to the conference hotel for the plea bargaining presentation I was to make, I stopped off at the High Court and delivered some American chocolates to the Criminal Division staff.  I have worked hard to cultivate the Pavlovian response I trigger when I walk in to the Registry.  Professor Jim = sweets.  There are many ways to engender loyalty in those around you.  Strength of character, fulfillment of promises, magnetism of personality, chiseled physique, chocolate.  Only the latter travels well in a suitcase.

While at the Registry, I also met with the current Registrar – the person who schedules the court sessions (including for juveniles).  He has proven to be a reliable advocate for the kids, but I learned he is being transferred early next month to a different division.  Back to square one.  This is one of the most frustrating parts of operating within the judicial structure here.  Personnel, including judges, are often shifted from one division to another just as soon as they become settled and efficient in their responsibilities.

At the conference hotel, Susan Vincent (Pepperdine alumnus and Nootbaar Fellow here in Uganda for a year) and I had lunch with the DPP Director Chibita (lead prosecutor for the country) and Justice Mukasa (head of the Criminal Division of the High Court).

Wisely, Director Chibita scheduled the conference to kick off with a 12:30 lunch.  In Uganda, start times of conferences are too often seen as opening offers in an arrival-time negotiation process.  But if one is incentivized with a spectacular buffet to arrive on time . . . things are different.  As Dean Ken Starr used to say, “While it may be true that you can’t herd cats, you can move the food.”  So true.

Accordingly, by the actual start time of 2:00 p.m., all sixty attendees were in place in the ballroom.  All but one, that is.  Protocol dictated that a head table was placed in the front of the horseshoe-shaped seating configuration where protocol also dictated that Director Chibita, Principal Judge Bamwine (in charge of entire High Court), and I, the main presenter, would be seated.  Protocol further dictated that Director Chibita would welcome everyone and introduce the Principal Judge who, according to Protocol, would deliver an initial address and then welcome me to the podium.

Unfortunately, official business detained the Principal Judge back at the court, so at 2:00 p.m., we had a problem.  Director Chibita brings a trains-run-on-time breath of fresh air to his position, so he decided we should get started and that I would simply pause when the Principal Judge arrived.  Perfectly reasonable and sensible.  The problem is that this put the microphone in my hands when he walked in, which meant that I would need to observe the proper protocol in the transition to his opening speech.  The block of granite resting on my shoulders failed to register this as a potential problem.

Things kicked off with the microphone being passed from person to person around the room for individual introductions.  In the audience were about thirty seasoned prosecutors, ten High Court judges, several top officials in the Uganda Law Society (governing body for lawyers), and a smattering of other governmental officials and lawyers.  Following a warm introduction of me by Director Chibita (which briefly traced my history with the judiciary, including mentioning my appearance in the Ugandan court of appeals as an advocate in Henry’s case (more on that here)), I was off and running.  Susan Vincent and I had been allotted two hours, the first of which was to be a presentation on the nature and benefits of plea bargaining in the criminal justice realm, and the second was slated for a guided discussion of the topic.

Untethered to the podium

 

With Director Chibita at the head table

I began by sharing my love for Uganda and its culture, and by tracing the development and depth of the relationship between Pepperdine and the Judiciary.  About halfway through this opening ten-minute segment, I spied with my little eye the Principal Judge enter the back of the room with his bodyguard.  Now, he has literally just stepped into a crowded ballroom not knowing exactly who was there, not knowing what protocols had already been observed, not knowing where we were in the scheduled agenda, and not knowing what had been decided with respect to when he would present his opening address.  With all the sense of a developmentally delayed toddler, I simply finished my sentence and declared, “looks like the guest of honor has arrived.  Welcome Principal Judge Bamwine” and then proceeded to offer him the microphone.

Even as I write this I am shaking my head.  What was I thinking?  Justice Bamwine would have been well within his rights to take the microphone and club me with it like I was the proverbial baby seal.  (Wait, was that not politically correct?)  Instead, he just raised his eyebrows and gave me an ever-so-slight shake of the head.  Fortunately, Director Chibita came to the rescue and gently suggested that I finish my overview of the relationship between Pepperdine and the Judiciary before I formally introduced Justice Bamwine.  Hmm, good idea.  Why didn’t I think of that?

From that point (just south of the Mariana Trench), things took a decided turn for the better.  I recovered from my protocol obliteration and even managed to improv a reasonably good introduction of the Principal Judge, which included a PowerPoint slide picturing him at my house taken a couple years back.  By the time he took the stage, he had been briefed by Director Chibita on where things stood and who was in the room (important, because protocol demands welcoming them in the proper order and with proper titles).

After his speech about the judiciary’s commitment to adopting plea bargaining, he kindly welcomed me back to the podium.  We then transitioned to Susan’s portion of the presentation, during which she gave an excellent overview of the nature and prevalence of plea bargaining around the world, including its obvious benefits.  I then received back the microphone, but promptly ditched it.  I am used to speaking to large crowds (of students) in larger rooms without a microphone, and they confirmed they could hear me just fine.  Though I didn’t seek confirmation, I am confident they could all also see what appeared to be a small animal burrowing into my lower lip.  As mentioned in yesterday’s post, I am nursing a baby-frightening cold sore to adulthood at just the right time to draw attention away from the substance of my talk.

Fortunately, the rest of the presentation went entirely according to plan.  The audience was engaged and embraced the ideas we conveyed.  The question and answer session was vibrant and probing, full of energy and enthusiasm to take this important step in the delivery of justice to the incarcerated in Uganda.  Director Chibita closed the gathering with a rousing and persuasive call to action.  It was all smiles when the curtain fell.

Afterward, they presented me with a beautiful framed painting entitled “The Pearl of Africa,” named after the moniker Winston Churchill bestowed on this majestic country.

Before I had begun my speech, I had noticed a familiar face in the crowd.  It took me a moment to place it, but when I did, the memories flooded back to last March when I argued Henry’s case in the court of appeals.  In the audience was the prosecutor against whom I had argued the case.  She had done an excellent job, but we really hadn’t had the opportunity to talk either before or after the argument.  So I tracked her down after the conference and discovered how delightful and kind she is.  We had a wonderful chat about plea bargaining and about Henry’s appeal.  Incidentally, we are still awaiting the ruling.  She shared with me her prediction on the eventual outcome of the appeal, but that moment will remain private.

I fought hard to stay awake until 10:00 p.m. so I could get a normal night of sleep, but it wasn’t to be.  3:20 a.m. beckoned to me like we had a long-scheduled appointment.

Friday is packed with meetings with old and new friends, both Ugandan and American.  More tomorrow.  Thanks for following along.