Thin Dividers

Professor Bell receiving Ugandan expressions of gratitude

As I rode to the airport on Friday, I once again saw through unjaded eyes the raw texture of the landscape and peoplescape around me.  My companion was California Superior Court Judge Paul Beeman, who had never been to Africa before.

“God, this is beautiful,” he said as the sunset on both the productive day and the intense week of training.  “Looks like they are working late this Friday afternoon,” he said as we drove by a man using a grinding wheel on the side of the road.  It was just after 7:00 p.m. and the small produce stands and metal and wood workshops along Entebbe Road were still bustling with activity as the locals continued to grind out their subsistence life.

We had arrived less than one week earlier under cover of darkness, and we had been so busy during the ensuing week that he hadn’t really gotten a glimpse into daily Ugandan life, at least not beyond that of the elite judges and lawyers with whom we had been interacting.  Judge Beeman’s comments reminded me that I had become so accustomed to life in Uganda that I failed to see both the awesome beauty of the God’s creation in this part of the world and the desperate state of many of its citizens.  This realization transported me back to my first trip in 2010 when the stark contrast between my life and those of my counterparts here came into such sharp relief.

I came face to face then – and once again on Friday night—with the sobering recognition that an inexplicable thin, and inexplicably thin, divider separates my life from theirs.  I can fathom no rational explanation as to why I was born into an intact, secure, stable, and loving family in a safe, flourishing, and wealthy environment, in contrast to those I see on the way to and from the airport and on the rare occasions when I visit the bush villages.  I suppose that a similar observation could be made when comparing circumstances between the “haves and the have nots” in the United States, but the “have nots” in the United States would be among the upper quartile of the “haves” in Uganda.

Clean and readily accessible water, reliable electricity, quality education, and a responsive and responsible police force are so easy to take for granted.  I am thankful for the fresh eyes of Judge Beeman that helped me see that again.

Just two hours earlier, the one-week training session culminated in a touching closing ceremony during which judges and lawyers alike lavished profuse compliments, profound gratitude, and prodigious gifts on the four Pepperdine mediation trainers.  I wish I had a video of the remarks because I find myself at a loss to capture the sentiments expressed.  The highlight of the ceremony was the announcement by a group of attorneys that they were forming a lawyers’ Mediation Society.  The Ugandan judges were stunned.  For years, the constant drumbeat from the lawyers had been that they opposed mediation because they were convinced it would negatively impact their revenue stream.  In fact, ADR (Alternative Dispute Resolution) is jokingly, though not in a funny way, referred to by Ugandan lawyers as Acute Deficiency in Revenue.  But by the end of the training week, not only had the Ugandan lawyers accepted it, but they warmly embraced it to the point of actively promoting it.  Very satisfying.

Earlier on Friday, Susan Vincent and I spend a couple hours with Andrew, the Secretary of the Plea Bargaining Committee appointed by the Chief Justice.  It was so encouraging to have the undivided attention of someone with legislative drafting training and experience who so intimately understood both the theoretical and practical challenges facing Uganda in the wide-scale implementation of this time- and resource-saving practice.  As we wound down, he expressed confidence that “we shall succeed in this, with God’s help, and if He wills it.”  I took this comment as an invitation to suggest that we pray together.  His face lit up, as he confessed that he had been disappointed that we hadn’t prayed together when we met two days earlier with the Principal Judge.  He grabbed our hands and we prayed like the future of Uganda’s criminal justice system was entirely resting in God’s hands.  It is.

A couple hours later, I called Henry to catch up.  The burial the day before had gone according to plan and he was in the middle of a meeting with his relatives.  We agreed to talk an hour later.  When we did, I learned that the relatives of Henry’s deceased father had decided that Henry would be the new head of his family, even though he has an older brother and a few older siblings from his father’s prior marriage.  This is a great honor and a great responsibility, and Henry is humbled to be asked “to lead the clan.”  I am not entirely sure what all this entails, but I do know that it is not at all uncommon for major land-related problems to arise when a man who owns property dies in Uganda and in other developing countries.  Too often, the relatives of the deceased descend upon the land and expel the widow and her children, claiming entitlement to the land to exclusion of the survivors.  It appears this will not happen in Henry’s family, since he (rather than his father’s brothers or other male relatives) are not asserting possession of the land.

Another meeting is scheduled for Monday, and I will talk to Henry shortly thereafter to ensure things are settled and secure.

Just before boarding my flight out of Uganda on Friday night, I encountered another thin divider – between me and the guy responsible for the Ugandan chapter of my life opening up.

Bob Goff travels to Uganda two or three times a year and we occasionally overlap.  This time, our overlap was only for a few minutes, so I decided to snap a picture of us together in Uganda, separated by a thin pane of glass.

As I write this, I am about halfway home – sitting in an airport lounge in Amsterdam.  This trip never gets easier or shorter.  Thanks for following along.

Bob and I during a brief encounter at the Entebbe Airport