Drawing to a Close

A rumored terrorism plot at Uganda’s main airport has come and gone with little left in its wake.  Such threats are becoming commonplace in Uganda as fears that the Somali militant group Al-Shabaab will enlarge its target area beyond Kenya once again.  Some may recall that Al-Shabaab managed to simultaneously detonate two bombs in Kampala during the World Cup finals four years ago, killing nearly 100 and maiming numerous others at an outdoor viewing area.

The pace of our efforts here in Uganda has made it difficult for me to provide daily updates, so I will combine the prior three days into a truncated post.

Thursday began with a breakfast meeting at the hotel to plan the remainder of the case briefing following Wednesday’s completion of the more than 160 prisoner interviews at three Ugandan prisons (Luzira Upper, Luzira Women’s, and Murchison Bay).  After the meeting, the eight teams reassembled, though three students returned to the prosecutors’ office to continue gathering and scanning police files.  In the early afternoon, the film crew and I assembled at the same office to interview Mike Chibita, the lead prosecutor for Uganda.  Film director Andy came up with a general outline that served as my base of questions, which he followed by a series of big picture questions to close the Q & A session.  John the cinematographer captured about ten minutes of “vignettes” of Director Chibita in various poses and places in his office.

Every time I’m with Director Chibita, my respect and admiration for this brilliant and focused leader climbs yet a notch higher – he was a great sport and offered such hope and vision for Uganda.

The case preparation among the Pepperdine lawyers paused for a few hours on Thursday evening (while the students pressed ahead) as we gathered for dinner with numerous judges who had visited Pepperdine over the past few years.  We also invited the Officers in Charge of the prisons with whom we have worked on this trip and enjoyed hearing their hopes and dreams for the future.  (Even as I write, we are organizing a trip to the United States early next year so the prison leaders of Uganda can come to the United States to share best practices).

Friday began with an interview of Chief Justice Benjamin Odoki.  He is truly the Thomas Jefferson of Uganda – he was the lead drafter on Uganda’s 1995 Constitution and served more than ten years as Chief Justice before reaching the mandatory retirement age of 70 in March of 2013.  Controversy still surrounds the President’s use of a legal loophole many believe doesn’t exist to nominate Odoki to resume the post of Chief Justice.  This critical legal issue is now before the Court of Appeals after a Member of Parliament filed a Constitutional challenge to the appointment.

Like Director Chibita, Justice Odoki was full of hopes and dreams for Uganda, but he was also somber and reflective about the past.  He eloquently described the transition from the “Rule By Law” under despot Idi Amin to the “Rule Of Law” in recent years.  At times he was playful; at times he was serious.  But he was always humble and personable.  He surprised us all by readily agreeing to don his robe and wig for about ten minutes of John filming him with his magic MOVI camera.  Truly, a good time was had by all.

I had an inconclusive afternoon meeting with the Dean of Makerere Medical School in an effort to further advance Henry’s medical school aspirations.  The upshot of the meeting was that the competition for the few spots remaining after the government sponsored spots were allocated has increased again this year such that a place in Makerere’s class (top in the country) now seems to be a bit of a longshot.  Henry is meeting me in Kampala on Monday so we can explore additional options at other medical schools before I head home on Tuesday.

We bid farewell to Professor Carol Chase, Jared Johnson, Karissa Freano, Bryan Pereboom, and Dana Hinojosa before those of us who were still here (including the fourteen students) had a lovely dinner at the home of Director Chibita.  The Principal Judge (head of the Ugandan High Court) delivered and encouraging and quite gracious speech at the dinner about how the partnership with Pepperdine has led to important and lasting change in Uganda.

Early Saturday morning, the Goodmans, Nootbaar Fellow Susan Vincent, and most of the students headed north for a safari at Murchison Falls.  I stayed behind with the film crew for some final work, though this wasn’t a huge sacrifice – after three safaris there over the past four years, the luster has faded.  That being said, a contact I have at the US Embassy arranged for the group up to be joined by a Ugandan wildlife official who supposedly has a GPS tracker on the lions, so this should be a safari to remember.

Eric Hagen and Erica Olson also left Kampala, though they were bound for Rwanda where they will do some gorilla and chimp trekking before heading home.  Later that morning, I headed back to Luzira with Andrew and the film crew for some final planning for the future and a few last shots the crew wanted to capture.  When we arrived, we learned that a huge portion of the prison staff were off duty because they were engaged in a soccer match against one of the prison teams.  As I have said before, the feel of the prisons in Uganda is quite different than in the United States.  There is very little animosity between the guards and the prisoners; perhaps playing soccer together is part of that winning formula.  (Staff 3, Prisoners 0).  The filming at Luzira fittingly ended with a touching moment between Andy, John, and a prisoner named Wilson who has been serving as one of our main translators this week.  He softly, but beautifully, sang a song that reflected the fact that while he was a prisoner here on earth, he has eternal freedom in the Lord.  I really hope that makes the final cut of the film.  There won’t be a dry eye among the viewers.

In the afternoon, I connected with some dear friends (Jay, Jill, Jake, Jared, and Jayne Gregston) for a meeting with them, their lawyer, the Registrar of the Family Division of the High Court, and the boy they are desperately trying to bring to the United States for life-saving cranial surgery.  Two prior operations only served to temporarily slow the spreading tumor behind the eye it has already claimed.  Please pray for favor and speed within the courts – the Gregstons have secured wonderful doctors and a generous hospital in Oklahoma who have agreed to treat the boy if he can secure an order from the Ugandan courts and a visa from the US Embassy.

The final day of filming will be tomorrow.  I really can’t wait to see the final product.  I have no doubt that it will be visually stunning.  I also have no doubt that the director has his work cut out for him.  Imagine having 10,000 puzzle pieces spread out before you and then trying to assemble a coherent and captivating image from the 500 of them.  I have a great deal of confidence he will put together an inspiring story of transformation among our students and the Ugandan judicial system.

Tomorrow morning, the film crew will be pointing the camera at yours truly before they fly out in the afternoon.  Please pray I will be able to keep my composure as I talk about Henry, the Pepperdine students, and the people of Uganda – all of whom I love deeply.

(The internet connection is too slow to upload photos — I will do so later.

The Depths of Ihungu

We traveled Tuesday night from Hoima to Masindi under a pin-pricked blanket of darkness.  With no electricity along the road for most of the 45 kilometer stretch, more stars were visible than it was humanly possible to count.  Tango and Daniel navigated the rutted and winding road seemingly effortlessly, dodging pedestrians, chickens, bicyclists, and motorcycles as they endeavored to stay out of each other’s dust wakes.  During the stretches of this narrow road that we were following another car, the dust choked out the view and choked up our lungs.  With no air conditioning in the car, we had to choose between either a dust mist with the windows open or a sauna with them closed.

As I stepped into the lobby of the Masindi Hotel, memories flooded back of the week I first met Henry.  Three Pepperdine Law alums and I flew out in January of 2010 to visit a juvenile detention center called Ihungu Remand Home and spent a week preparing the cases of twenty-one prisoners for trial.  Some of them had been incarcerated for nearly two years just waiting for a lawyer, the evidence against them, and a day in court.  Among them were Henry and his younger brother Joseph.

Wednesday morning, Henry made the trek from Hoima to Masindi and then accompanied us to the office of the Ihungu warden, Mr. William.  During the January, 2010 week at Ihungu, I got to know Mr. William quite well, and have stayed in contact with him as the result of a half-dozen return visits to Ihungu.  We hugged warmly, had a few laughs, and the set off down the rugged road to the remand home.

Mr. William had pre-approved the film crew capturing the bleak and raw existence the prisoners at Ihungu endure each day while they wait for the wheels of justice to turn.  So when we arrived, we all walked the entire grounds together as Henry narrated the scene.  Eventually, the camera came out for another walkthrough.  A portion of the story Henry needed tell involved a situation better avoided by Mr. William.  Over the years, he has maintained plausible deniability about the activities of the matron who lived with the juveniles, and needed to be protected from discussions about it.  So the two of us went for our own walk away from Henry and the cameras.  While we walked, Mr. William explained to me that the J-FASTER system we helped the judiciary established is continuing to work – the juveniles on remand used to languish for two years before they were brought to court.  Now, that time period is “just” a few months.  I was pleased to confirm what I had been told, but still there is room for improvement.

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When it came time for Mr. William’s interview, he was eager to tell Ihungu’s story.  He quickly got the hang of waiting until after the question had been fully asked to start, and picked up on speaking in full sentences right away.

Mr. William on the steps of the juvenile sleeping quarters

Mr. William on the steps of the juvenile sleeping quarters

Following his interview, Mr. William went back to town, but granted the film crew access to the entire place the rest of the day.  They definitely took him up on his offer.  At one point, Henry had a chance to address the current prisoners within the depths of Ihungu’s dark and dank dormitory.  He talked to them about his time as the Katikkiro of Ihungu (Prime Minister of the prison government), about life after Ihungu, and about why they shouldn’t lose hope in their future, or their trust in God.

It was an emotional day for all of us, but most particularly for Henry as he re-lived once again the two years he spent teeter-tottering between hope and despair.

The crew filmed straight through the day and all through “blue hour” (also called “magic hour”) when the light is at its best as the sun is setting.  The closing shots added a bit of metaphorical flare at the expense of Henry’s lungs and John’s (the director of photography) back.  Henry ran up and down the road just outside Ihungu fifteen or twenty times.  John chased him with the special MOVI camera for a while, then hung out the back of Tango’s van the other times.

On the move with the MOVI

On the move with the MOVI

(Incidentally, as the sun had started to set, we discovered that Tango’s van wouldn’t start.  After an hour of Daniel (court driver) fiddling with the motor, it finally got going.  Just in case, Tango left it running during dinner and while he refueled it for the journey home).

We finally set off for Kampala at 9:30 and stumbled into the hotel back in Kampala just after midnight.

Throughout the day, I checked in every couple hours with Andrew, Susan, and Dana who were out at the prison complex with the students and attorneys.  As the initial interviews with the inmates at Luzira Maximum wrapped up, those at Murchison Bay and Luzira Women’s prisons ramped up.  By late Wednesday afternoon, the eight groups of American and Ugandan lawyers and law students had completed the interviews at all three prisons.  In all, they totaled approximately 150 – about 50 prisoners more than we had even allowed ourselves to hope we could help.

But now comes the really hard work.  Following the interviews each evening, the Pepperdine students and Pepperdine lawyers convert their notes into a narrative report for each prisoner, which will be provided to the Ugandan lawyer who will represent the prisoner in plea negotiations with the prosecution over the next few weeks.  That work was ongoing into the evening and will continue in earnest for the next several days.

Like Tuesday, a few of our students spent much of the day at the prosecutor’s office reviewing and scanning police reports and other aspect of the prosecutors’ files to supplement the interviews.  Thank you, Apple, for the app that eliminates the need for a copy machine and paper that exists in Uganda in short supply.

As we looked ahead to Thursday, we weren’t sure how things would develop as we waited for additional files to be located and brought the prosecution’s headquarters.   But it wouldn’t be Uganda without uncertainty.

Hoima

By the end of Monday, it became clear that we needed to divide and conquer.  The initial interview work was going well and relatively quickly.  What we gained in speed, though, we lacked in depth because we didn’t have access to any of the evidence against the accused persons prior to the interviews – only the barebones indictments and the prisoners’ description of the events in question.  We had, of course, endeavored to get access to the prosecution files in advance, but Uganda is still working to remedy inefficiencies in its systems.

So on Tuesday morning, two of our student interns, Paula Hernandez and Mena Gehart, split off from the group and went to the headquarters of the prosecution office, where they are interning this summer.  Three of the eight interviewing groups had finished their initial batch at Luzira Upper, and so they went directly to Murchison Bay, the adjoining medium security prison on the larger prison compound.  Five of the eight groups returned to Luzira Upper and continued their interviews from the day before and added in other prisoners who have decided to opt into the pilot program.  Pepperdine film professor Craig Detweiler, Producer Michelle Abnet, and I set off in one car, with Director Andy Reale, Cinematographer John Pope, and Camera Assistant Tyson Van Skiver in another.

I had been looking forward to this road trip for several months – I always enjoy returning to Henry’s home and reuniting with his family.  Four hours after we left Kampala, we arrived at Henry’s village.  Four hours after that, the interview with Henry was wrapping up.

Capturing Henry's Perspective

Capturing Henry’s Perspective

I am, obviously, way too close to this story to have an objective view, but those in our group who are just learning of the gritty details of Henry’s wrongful incarceration and the resulting personal and spiritual battles that followed were quite moved.  The story is still playing out, but suffice it to say that his faith is strong and his future is increasingly promising.

After Henry’s interview, John got lots of B-roll shots in and around Henry’s home before we ventured out into the village area.

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They filmed inside Henry’s old classroom, where he was with his fellow classmates when the events that set his saga into motion took place.  At dusk, the film crew captured a few precious moments of Henry and I walking and talking about how our lives have been impacted by knowing each other, and the tangible results for Uganda’s justice system his case sparked.

With Henry in Hoima

With Henry in Hoima

Back in Kampala, the number of prisoners interviewed by the eight groups climbed into the mid-100s, though the number of prosecution files we have now secured has just crept into double-digits.

Wednesday will be more prisoner interviews in Kampala, more file searching at the prosecution office, and more late night case summaries.  Meanwhile, the film crew, Henry, and I will be spending the day at the juvenile prison where Henry spent two years of his life languishing and praying for access to justice.  It will likely be an emotional day for all of us, but especially Henry.  Your prayers are coveted.

A Little Help

A Little Help

A mesmerized whisper of “wow” involuntarily escaped the lips of most of our team who ascended the hill on Monday to “Luzira Upper,” Uganda’s Maximum Security Prison, home to 3247 inmates. 

The first to arrive were the Revolution film team of Andy (director), Michelle (producer), John (cinematographer), and Tyson (camera assist/editor), and me.  Michelle and Andy had spent a relaxed and friendly afternoon and evening the day before with the Officer–in-Charge (OC) of Luzira, so he was warm and friendly and welcoming.  It only took us twenty minutes to get through security as we skipped two of the steps due a call from the OC to the guards.

The OC welcomed us into his office, which had been modified from the day before to add another eight to ten chairs, thus increasing its seating capacity to about eighteen.  A few minutes of small talk and family-photo-sharing later, he assigned a guard named Ogwang to accompany us on a location scouting tour of the prison.  At this point, we had no cameras.  After being let through the final two layers of security, we were led into the main rectangular courtyard large enough to hold a near-regulation soccer field.

Adjectives and adverbs crowd into my throat, but none can precisely fit the shape of my open mouth to describe what we saw.  A few that are competing for prominence are “raw,” “disturbing,” “unsettling,” and “hopeless.”  Yet at the same time, it is impossible to shake the notion of sameness – when we look into the eyes of these abjectly poor and visibly needy prisoners, whether guilty or not, we can’t help but see ourselves reflected in them in big and small ways.  I don’t want to too sappy, but the film crew has traveled the world and has been knee and neck deep in some of the most challenging conditions in developing countries, and they were quite moved.

We visited the kitchen, the place where prisoners are admitted, and one of the cell blocks where they sleep.  A room the size of a four-car garage housed almost 250 from lock up at 4:00 p.m. until 5:00 a.m. the next morning.  Many had mats resembling carpet squares, while others just head to toe and shoulder to shoulder space.

If each video image John and Andy later captured is worth a one Uganda shilling, we’ll all be shillionaires when the film is complete.

While we walked, a prisoner carrying a smooth cylindrical stick (two feet long, one inch thick) walked about three feet to the side of Michelle.  I didn’t notice right away, but she pointed it out to me when our walk was concluding.  She was understandably quite concerned about what appeared to be an armed stalker.  In an effort to reassure her, I explained that he was probably protecting her from the other inmates, but was not entirely sure this was true.  Later in the day, I chatted with this friendly fellow with “RP” emblazoned upon his yellow uniform.

“What does ‘RP’ stand for?” I asked.

“Regimental Police,” he said proudly.

“Ah, you are a police officer among the prisoners?”

“Yes, and I provide security.”

“Oh, so that is why you have the stick?”

“This?  No, it is ceremonial.”

It then hit me that I have seen police parades in Uganda and the guy at the front is always carrying one of these.  It was touching and reassuring that the prisoners took it upon themselves to provide security to Michelle and the rest of the team.

We cut the tour short so the crew could be in position when the students and lawyers arrived.  They had a much more time-intensive experience with security than did we. 

Security at Luzira Upper consists of seven layers.  It is situated on a larger compound of land that actually houses three prisons – Luzira Upper, Murchison Bay, and Luzira Women’s – the latter two of which are medium security.  The first layer of security is an outer vehicle gate to the entire compound where the students exited and were searched.  After reentering their vehicles (a mini-bus and a mini-van), they proceeded uphill for a quarter mile to a guard shack where security personnel stopped the car to question the drivers, and then directed them to a parking lot beyond the outer gates of Luzira.  About thirty yards from the parking lot, they passed on foot through a locked, cut-out prison-bar doorway in a large metal gate that can be opened for vehicles, and then proceeded toward the metal detector and pat-down search area.  The film crew got in among the crowd of nearly fifty Ugandan lawyers, Ugandan law students, American lawyers, and American law students.

The ID-check, pat-down, and metal detector drill took nearly thirty minutes.  Finally, we all marched up to the outer walls of the prison and ducked through a heavily guarded and fortified metal doorway into a fifty by thirty foot holding area.  While we didn’t go directly into the courtyard with the inmates then, if we had, we would have proceeded to a doorway quite similar to the one we had just passed through, but only after the door behind us was securely locked.  The doorway in front of us led into a fifteen by fifteen foot cyclone-fence enclosed box protruding slightly into the courtyard.  The gate behind is locked and secured before we are finally let into the courtyard through another metal doorway manned by a couple guards.

But rather than proceeding directly into the courtyard, we were ushered into the warden’s office where the eighteen chairs mocked the fifty people entering.  Another ten chairs were squeezed in, but it was still standing room only as the warden welcomed us to Luzira.  The crowd shielded the rickety fan and blocked the open windows so as he spoke, I sweated.  A lot.  Beads were racing each other from my shoulder blades to my beltline.  Another set were dive-bombing the northern edge of my socks from the southern border of my undies.  All the while, a piercing “beep, beep, beep” was emanating from the back-up power source to the OC’s computer warning him the prison’s power had once again failed.

Andrew and I stood next to OC as he talked.  Just over the OC’s shoulder was a poster that has become the theme of this trip, at least for me.  It read:

“A little help is better than a lot of sympathy.”

The more I reflected on it, the deeper it burrowed into me.  I spent the first forty-two years of my life quite proud of my sizeable sympathy.  Not anymore.

When the warden finished his overview of the state of the Luzira prison, he led us into a classroom where seventy inmates were seated, quietly waiting for their opportunity to move their cases toward a just resolution.  Andrew opened with a background and overview of the process, and I followed with greetings, introductions, and more specifics.  Ten minutes later, eight teams were interviewing individual inmates.  After months of planning, the Luzira Project was finally in full swing.

From there, Andrew and I headed to the medium security Murchison Bay prison within the same compound.  We sensitized them to the project, after which the OC of that facility began the process of registering those on remand who would like to participate in the plea bargaining process.  By the end of the day, fifty had opted in.

While Andrew and I were at Murchison, the film crew broke into two groups.  Andy stayed with the groups and filmed B-roll and short snippet interviews with students about the cases and their impressions.  Craig Detweiler, Pepperdine film professor who was instrumental in bringing this film project from the idea phase to reality, has been providing technical and advisory assistance to the team.  He stayed with Andy and operated the sound boom.  John, Tyson, and Michelle spent two hours capturing life inside Luzira.  The inside access they were given was unprecedented and the footage they captured was nothing short of amazing.  I don’t have still pictures of what they filmed inside the depths of the prison, but here are a handful from places where the interviews were taking place.

Late in the day, just before we left, one of the prisoners took me for a walk to talk about his case.  He wasn’t part of the group participating in the program (because he is claiming actual innocence on a charge of human trafficking), but we had met last Thursday during my prior visit.  As we walked, he explained to me that he has a PhD in Economics and was a professor at three different universities in England before moving back to Uganda in 2011 to serve as a consultant to the Ministry of Finance.  His British accent, perfect teeth, and intellectual demeanor made his background story perfectly credible.  After a few minutes, Andy appeared with a camera to my right.  I asked my new friend (Dr. Maxwell, which is what the guards call him also) if it was OK for him to be filmed, and he readily agreed.  As Andy moved around us capturing our conversation (without sound), I realized in a panic that Andy wasn’t accompanied by a guard.  More sphincter clenching.  I wasn’t at all worried about my safety, but was concerned about Andy’s and that of his camera.  Fortunately, there haven’t been even any hints of physical danger for us.  In fact, we have noticed a small pack of inmates standing guard and providing us internal protection.

After a great lunch outside the prison gates, it was time for the inmates’ lockup.  Everyone except the film crew headed back the hotel for a team meeting.  The crew interviewed the warden and got a few more shots before returning to the hotel.  On the way home, their van broke down, providing them with another picture of the difficulties of life in Uganda.

By bedtime, everyone was tired, but excited.  Tuesday should be another interesting day.

Firm Foundation

As in all of life’s ventures, it was important for us to establish a firm foundation before attempting to build upon it this week.  So the Pepperdine lawyers who have traveled to Uganda and many of the students living here this summer gathered on Sunday morning in a hotel conference room for a time of worship and prayer.  After Henry opened us in prayer, the manager of the Nootbaar Institute, Dana Hinojosa, led us in a few songs with accompaniment from Bryon Josslyn, one of our students who is working for the Family Division of the High Court this summer.

Pre-Project Worship

Several among the group shared thoughts and/or led prayers, and we closed with a final prayer consisting of a poem that became special to our group last summer that captures the essence of our work:

A Future Not Our Own, by Oscar Romero

It helps now and then to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.

 

We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of
saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession
brings perfection, no pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives include everything.

 

This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one
day will grow. We water the seeds already planted
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects
far beyond our capabilities.

 

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of
liberation in realizing this.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning,
a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s
grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the
difference between the master builder and the worker.

 

We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not
messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.

 

After our time of prayer and reflection, the attorneys went on a Kampala bus tour while Susan Vincent and I worked on final preparations for the launch session at 2:00 p.m.  By 2:05, the conference room at our hotel we had secured was overflowing with Ugandan prosecutors, Ugandan defense lawyers, Ugandan students, members of the judiciary, members of the prison authority, Pepperdine students, Pepperdine lawyers, and the film crew.  In all, there were close to seventy in attendance for the orientation meeting for The Luzira Project.

Participants in Orientation Session for The Luzira Project

Group Photo of Luzira Project Orientation

After brief introductions around the room, the Chief Registrar of the High Court (fourth in command of the judiciary) led off with a welcome and overview of the program.  This was followed by further remarks of encouragement by Andrew, the Secretary of the Plea Bargain Task Force, who provided details to the group of the Task Force’s trip to Malibu that concluded just over a week ago.  We then watched the fifteen-minute video the Task Force had prepared about plea bargaining.  Then it was my turn to provide an overview and description of Pepperdine’s relationship with the judiciary and to explain the parameters of The Luzira Project.  I told them that there were going to be eight groups interviewing prisoners, each consisting of one or two American law students, one American lawyer, one Uganda Christian University student, and one Ugandan lawyer.  I also showed them a sample copy of the final report we will be delivering to the Ugandan lawyer at the end of the week.

The Head Table -- Chief Registrar Paul Gadenya, Andrew, me, and Joan from Prosecution

The Luzira Prison Warden followed me and told the group that Luzira’s capacity as constructed is 600 prisoners, and described the challenges associated with having over 3300 inmates – nearly six times capacity.  He also described the prisoners’ frustrations with the pace of justice and his (and their hopes) for the Project.

Professor Carol Chase then provided an overview of the plea bargaining process in the United States so they could get a sense of what might be possible after successful implementation.  We closed with a group photograph after a thirty-minute Q & A session.  All in all, a firm foundation was established for the prison work that begins in earnest Monday morning.  The film crew captured the entire gathering, up close and personal.  All in attendance patiently endured the moving cameras, close ups, and periodic light adjustments incidental to the filming.

The opening film shot of everyone entering Luzira for the first time on Monday morning will be a critical stage-setting piece, so two members of the film crew took the Luzira warden to dinner to develop a good rapport with him in advance of what will be unprecedented access to the facility to capture the true living conditions inside.

The two cameramen and I went back into the city to capture more B-roll footage of the bustling and raw life of Kampala.  I won’t go into details of what we encountered (you can ask me in person sometime), but suffice it to say that our biggest fears were realized with the police.  We were stopped, interrogated, searched, and threatened.  It became necessary to present our,  um, “documentation” for our work.  There were some really tense and uncertain moments, but we finally got an approving smile and an “it is OK.”  A few minutes later, the same officer was back at our window – this time with a warning.

“These people are poor and uneducated and don’t know that what you are doing is approved.  If you stay in this area much longer, they will give you trouble and you will be in danger.”

“What about if you are with us?” I asked.

“They will not disturb you if I am with you.”

“Would you like to come for a ride with us and learn about what we are doing?”

“It is OK.  Let me come.”

So for the next two hours, we had a police escort in the car with us.  He cleared the way to capture everything they could conceive of capturing, including John filming from the roof of the safari minivan, through the open sliding door as he hung out into traffic, and from the open trunk after Tango wrapped a seat belt around him that I held tight from the seat behind him.

Excellent footage.

A quick team meeting before bed closed the evening.  We head for the prison first thing in the morning.

Temporarily Back on Track

In Uganda, simplicity and predictability have different meanings than in the United States.  By Saturday morning, we were ready to exchange their definitions for ours.  Our Ugandan coordinator, Andrew, left before dawn for his father’s 80th birthday party celebration in Mbale – four hours away – so we were on our own.  Before he left, he strongly cautioned me to advise the film crew not to take any chances with their equipment before Monday when they will be provided the use of a marked government vehicle and be given an official, stamped letter granting them permission to film in and around Kampala.  That letter could be shown to police officers who were either looking to stop them from filming, or looking to add to their monthly income by confiscating the equipment until a “private fine” was paid.

You can probably see where this is going.  The film crew was eager and not so much open to persuasion – they had a shot list they wanted to capture and were less deterred by yesterday’s airport debacle than I was.  They politely listened to and appreciated my warnings and worst-case-scenarios, but they are professionals who have filmed all over the world (Columbia, India, Ukraine, and elsewhere) who came to do a job and prime filming light was burning.  So I took a deep breath and did lots of praying.

Susan Vincent made and laminated official-looking press passes (that they would only pull out if the we-are-tourists-with-expensive-cameras-making-youtube-videos-for-our-mommies line proved ineffective) and I threw on a suit and tie and a stern and authoritative demeanor.  I also reached back into my computer archives for some official letterhead I used to use when I lived here and whipped something up.  Just in case.  I won’t go into details as to what it said, but my instructions to them were clear – pull it out of the official judicial envelope only in cases of dire emergency and pray that the detaining police officer will be too intimidated to take the matter to his or her supervisors.

It turns out that reassembling and preparing for action two professional-grade cameras takes a long time.  So it was early afternoon before we (including Henry who was in town for the weekend) climbed into Tango’s safari-style mini-van (open sun roof where passengers can stand with half their bodies above the roof line).  The crew wanted to capture “establishing” shots of the city of Kampala and daily life in it.  They really wanted to get into the middle of the action, noise, and chaos that defines life in this developing country.  But we also really needed to avoid the police.  Really, really needed to avoid the police.  Tall order.

“Stop here!  This is perfect!” Andy yelled like Steven Spielberg on the set of big budget film.  Tango complied like a Ugandan genie.  My sphincter tightened like an anaconda around a baby goat.

Everyone piled out . . . except me.  The plan was that if it became necessary, I would be the “hey, what’s going on here?” guy in professional attire if things went south.  But I suck at patience.  After a few minutes, I got out and lingered fifty yards from where they were filming, trying to keep a watchful eye on the crowd that was gathering.  Michelle the producer and Andy the director were doing some vacation posing for the initial shots, but John the cameraman looks nothing like the accidental tourist.  If one put his camera in my hands, and I could convince anyone watching me that I am some buffoon with a way-too-expensive-camera-for-my-skill-set in my hand.  John’s vibe is rather different.  After ten minutes or so, Henry advised them they needed to leave the dilapidated side street because they were becoming a prime target for a snatch and run gang of thieves.

“This is great!  Here!” soon boomed out again from inside the van.  A nano-second later another baby goat was bone-crushingly asphyxiated by the circular muscle standing guard to my tailpipe.

This time, the prime shooting location was an auto-mechanic shop where the workers and other locals were shooting pool on weathered table rested on uneven dirt on the side of the road.  I lasted about thirty seconds in the car before I was in the thick of things.

“You must pay to capture us!” The Minnesota Fats and Willie Mosconi wannabes were bellowing.

The camera was intimidating them and the confused mzungu faces and impenetrable mzungu English was missing its mark.  Henry was doing his best to talk to a few of them, but they weren’t sure what role he played or what authority he had to bargain on the mzungu’s behalf.  As I approached the gathering crowd, Andy met me with the news that the locals wanted to be paid and that Andy was willing to do so.

I have had some excellent trainers over the years (John Niemeyer, John Napier, Shane Michael, David Nary) on how to speak calmly and effectively as a white person to a group of locals.  I threw a couple Luganda phrases in with my broad grin, gave some traditional handshakes and shoulder pats to those who seemed to be the leaders, and then palmed a five thousand shilling note (two dollars) into an eager hand.  Instantly, we were all besties and John had the run of the place to capture their mugs and their milieu from every conceivable angle.

Billiards, Ugandan Style

As John filmed and Andy directed, Michelle mingled throughout the crowd and made all sorts of friends with the ladies and children milling around.  By the time we left, we had thirty new friends and thirty minutes of great footage.

“Let’s go to an outdoor market.  I really want to be in the midst of lots of people and chaos,” Andy declared.

Once again, Tango granted Andy’s wishes.  Once again, my trap door slammed shut.  I think it might have been audible.

I break out into a cold sweat even as I type this description of the 90 minutes at the market, but suffice it to say, John captured what Andy was looking for.  The shots included close-ups of everything a Ugandan outdoor market has to offer, including all kinds of food preparation, garment making, and social interacting.  Some of it is too graphic to provide details, but suffice it to say that more than one type of animal departed with its cognitive features and sustaining fluids.

Tyson, Andy, John, and Henry capturing a market shot

Making Chapattis in the Market

Fortunately, we didn’t see a single police officer and most of the locals allowed us to film them, though several of them insisted on being given a “tip.”  As the sun nose-dived toward the horizon, Tango took us to rooftop on a hilltop and John got some really good city scapes.  As we descended the hill, John ascended through the roof and started shooting safari-style.  More butt clenching as we bounced along a crumbling, pot-holed, and crowded strip of asphalt.

Andy really wanted to capture before the sun completely set some shots with John’s Movi device, which is a bulky image-stabilizing contraption that screams “professional film crew!”  Even my Arnold- Schwarzenegger-gatekeeper couldn’t handle this type of risk, so I bailed on the filming adventure and instead met up with the American lawyer team who landed in Uganda Saturday afternoon, fortunately without incident.

We had a very productive orientation meeting and everyone is excited to get started on the prison work.

At 9:30 p.m., I called Michelle to see if the film crew and Henry had encountered any difficulties.  The commotion in the background instantly spiked my blood pressure.

“We are being threatened with arrest, so we’re going to get out of here and head back,” she said.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when they finally arrived back at the hotel.

We are starting Sunday morning with a time of prayer and reflection before the full team of Americans and Ugandan are assembled for a final planning session.

Thanks for following and praying along.

Detained and Disassembled

Friday morning started off quite promising, but those promises were soon broken, sending me into panic mode and forcing me against my better judgment to scramble onto the back of a motorcycle taxi in the rain.

While I was with Andrew on Thursday, he called his friend and mine, the former Chief Justice Benjamin Odoki, to schedule an opportunity for us to drop by and bring him greetings on Friday morning.  CJ Odoki is uniformly held in high esteem as the father of Uganda’s constitution, having served as the lead drafter on the constitutional committee in 1995.  Under the constitution he authored, Supreme Court justices are termed out at age 70.  He reached that age mid-year last year and retired.  Shortly thereafter, Uganda’s President Museveni appointed him back on the bench under a temporary contract, which is allowed by the constitution, but then sought to make him Chief Justice again.  This caused a furor among Uganda’s lawyers (they disbarred the Attorney General for advising the President that the appointment was constitutional) and a lawsuit by a Member of Parliament seeking to block the appointment.  This litigation is still ongoing, and Uganda has been without a substantive Chief Justice for more than a year.

While he was CJ, Odoki signed in 2009 (along with then-dean Ken Starr) the Memorandum of Understanding between Pepperdine and the Ugandan Judiciary solidifying the relationship that had begun two years earlier.  Odoki came to Pepperdine in 2010 and later permitted me the opportunity to be admitted to Uganda’s bar to argue the appeal in Henry’s case.  He also invited me to move to Uganda for six months, which my family did, to assist in the development of Uganda’s juvenile justice program.

On Friday morning, we had a chance to catch up for about ninety minutes on a variety of topics, including the Luzira Project on which we are now working.  It was good to see my old, though sharp and vibrant, friend.

With the Chief Justice and Andrew in CJ's office

Because President Museveni was giving a speech at my hotel, the roads were barricaded around the hotel for 500 meters in every direction, so my uphill walk in a suit carrying a backpack drenched me in sweat.  At the hotel, I met up with the first member of the film crew to arrive (Thursday night) and walked her downhill to Tango, the driver who would be picking up the other three crew members, and off they went at 11:30 a.m. for a 1:00 p.m. pick up.  I walked back up to the hotel looking like I had just been swimming.

At 1:30, my phone rang.  It was Tango.  He proceeded to hand the phone to Andy, the director of the documentary film we are making.  Andy was not in a good mood.  They had just flown more than thirty hours on a three-leg journey and he was tired, hungry, and angry.  The customs official at the airport had detained their five cases of camera equipment and was insisting on a substantial payment in exchange for its release.

“What do we do?” he asked.

I don’t know, I thought.  I had never encountered customs issues before.  I called Andrew, our go-to guy, for help.  I am convinced that it is not a coincidence that Andrew had just exited the office of the Chief Registrar of Uganda’s High Court.  After I caught him up on the situation, he promised to call me back.

For the next hour, I paced and attempted shuttle diplomacy, trying to assure Andy that we were doing everything we could, and trying to find out from Andrew if there was anything we could do.  The camera guys, John and Tyson, weren’t about to leave behind their highly valuable, cutting edge equipment, so any logjam would have to be broken at the airport.  Finally, Andrew called me and told me to meet him at the High Court and that we would go out to the airport together with a letter from the High Court Registrar.

“Will it work?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  I pray it will,” Andrew said.

So threw my sweaty suit back on and raced downstairs . . . into the rain.  I flagged down a motorcycle taxi, hopped on the back, and held on for dear life.  On a rain-slicked road, we hopped onto sidewalks, weaved between stopped cars, and rode for stretches on the wrong side of the road.  Good thing I was wearing Depends.  At least the rain diluted my sweat-soaked suit.  When I arrived at the Registrar’s office, I was a mess.  But protocol demanded that I sit and talk and have some fruit with them.  It was mango, and it was good.  But I knew we had a ninety-minute airport ride in front of us and the traffic jam would intensify with every passing minute.  Finally, we left and tracked down Susan Vincent’s court-assigned driver and set off for the airport.  Within two minutes, the car sputtered.  It lurched.  It belched.  It flipped us the bird and refused to move.  In the middle of traffic.

Are you blanking kidding me?

We trudged a quarter mile uphill in the rain back to the High Court to jump in Andrew’s private car.  Finally, we were off.

When we arrived at the airport, Andrew went to work.  He talked our way through security and Andy escorted the customs official over to meet with him.  Andrew spoke calmly and directly, and presented him with the letter.  Since they were speaking Luganda, I didn’t know when I was allowed to breathe so I just slowly turned purple.  Andrew pointed out the signature and seal on the letter, and the man nodded slightly and left with Andy.

“Well?” I asked Andrew.

“He will check with his supervisor.  We must wait and see.”

Thanks.  That is precisely the answer I was hoping you would give.  He was calm.  I was not.

Twenty minutes later (which seemed like six hours), we saw through glass walls all three of our team pushing luggage carts toward a customs office.  For the next forty-five minutes, they disassembled and catalogued every piece of film equipment they had, writing down the serial numbers on a customs form.  Finally, the customs official told Andrew he would release them only if Andrew would surrender his official government credentials as collateral until the film crew flew home.  Andrew didn’t hesitate.  My hero.  I felt like I needed both a cigarette and a stiff drink, and I don’t partake in either activity.

Needless to say, the guys were relieved to be released but were so ready to get to the hotel.  They did – three hours later.  The traffic was as bad as I have ever seen.

While the team wanted me to ride with them to discuss the upcoming week, protocol demanded that I ride with Andrew.  Back at the hotel, just as we sat down to eat, Henry arrived, after having dinner with the Gregston family.  I was supposed to have been there with our Twin Family, but duty called elsewhere.

For the next two hours, we discussed the upcoming week and they learned Henry’s full story of wrongful juvenile imprisonment and ultimate redemption, which will likely play an important role in the documentary.

Professor Carol Chase arrived just before midnight after a much less eventful trip through customs.  Before bed, I presented Henry with the commemorative photo frame Joline had made before I left.  Henry’s father passed in March of this year.  He was quite touched.

Henry and his father's memories

I appreciate your continuing prayers.  Please pray for less excitement as the film crew tries to capture life around Kampala on Saturday, which we hope won’t include more detention and disassembly.  As I know from personal experience, the Ugandan police can and will detain people taking pictures in ways they don’t like.

Prisoner Sensitization

I arrived at the Luzira maximum security prison at about 11:15 a.m. with Andrew Khaukha, who serves as the Secretary (logistics leader) of the Plea Bargaining Task Force.  Andrew had spoken with the warden in advance so he knew we were coming.  After navigating three levels of security we made it inside the warden’s office.  I had met the warden on two prior occasions, and he seemed to remember me.  I hope it was for the day I was in his office when Bob Goff walked a former witch doctor through his confession of faith in Jesus, and not for the day when Bob filled and launched a massive helium balloon from inside the prison courtyard – they we none too happy with the later after they figured out what was going on.

Luzira currently houses more than 3,300 prisoners, half of whom are on remand – they have been charged with a capital offense (serious crime), but have not been convicted of anything and have not yet been to court.  Virtually none of them have a lawyer.  Many have been on remand for three to five years.  A few have been on remand even longer.  The maximum capacity for the prison as constructed was just over one thousand.

We met with the warden for about an hour about our goals, concerns, and needs for next week’s plea bargaining project.  He never really resisted anything, but really caught the vision after watching the fifteen-minute video the Ugandans recently prepared about the integration of plea bargaining into the criminal justice system.  (It was kind of them to credit Pepperdine for the education and training we are providing them).

After we discussed the video with the warden for a few minutes, he led us out into the courtyard that is bigger than a football field.  Waiting for us on one side of the courtyard was a huge party tent, a head table, a public address system, and more than six hundred prisoners on remand from two of the districts covered by the prison.  Ninety-five percent of them wore yellow striped uniforms; the other five percent wore orange.  I am not entirely clear on the distinction, but I suspect those in orange were the internal prison leadership.  About twenty unarmed guards mingled around to ensure order was maintained.

We sat with our backs against the wall at a rickety plain wooden table facing the crowd fanning out before us.  About two hundred sat cross-legged in rows beginning five feet from us.  The other stood behind them, five deep in a semi-circle stretching from the wall to our left around to the wall to our right.  Not even for a moment did I feel unsafe or insecure.  That was one of the surprising things I have learned about Ugandan prisons – there is order and calm among the prisoners.  I am not sure if this is cultural, or if it is because they know the consequences of revolt would be severe.

The warden commandeered one sputtering microphone and an orange-shirted inmate gripped the other.  Over the next ten minutes, the warden did a decent job of providing an overview of plea bargaining.  He got a few things wrong, but nothing critical.  He then told the inmates that if they wanted to participate, they would go to the prison office with their indictment and sign a list.  Andrew followed next and did an excellent job of outlining the benefits of plea bargaining and explaining that they would have a lawyer representing them in plea discussions with the prosecution if they opted in.  He made sure to encourage them only to sign up they were willing to plead guilty.  Both spoke in Luganda with the orange-suited prisoner interpreting in English.

After fifteen minutes, Andrew introduced me and handed me the microphone.  I brought them greetings from the United States and Pepperdine and told them how much of a privilege it was to be invited to come to Uganda to provide them assistance.  I reiterated several of Andrew’s points, emphasizing that we didn’t want anyone to plead guilty who was innocent.  I also explained that we wanted to work with those who, while they may have committed crimes of violence, did so in self-defense or accidentally.  Our hope is to plead those cases to manslaughter.  I further explained how the process would work – they would have a team of five legally trained individuals assisting them and that all conversations were confidential.  They were warm and gracious when I finished ten minutes later.

Then came the less warm and, at times, hostile part.

In order to put them at ease and to encourage their engagement, Andrew had told them they would be permitted to ask questions when we finished.  He cautioned them, however, that we would only be able to answer questions pertinent to the plea bargaining project and process.  But when the Q & A period started, very few of the questions painted within the lines.  Several unloaded on the police, accusing them of corruption and falsifying evidence.  Others directed their attention at the lying complainants whose allegations put them there.  Still others tried to explain why they were innocent of the charges filed against them without specifically blaming anyone.  Some of the comments were followed by rousing cheers, while others generated derisive jeers.  A handful of the questions and comments were pertinent and thought-provoking.  Andrew did his best to respond in the Ugandan way – taking all of the questions before responding to any of them.  The beauty of this approach is that it allows the respondent to pick and choose the questions that receive attention.  The Q & A session was a painful 90 minutes, but Andrew handled it well.  I was bummed we didn’t get this on film, but the film crew arrives on Friday afternoon and we will do another small “prisoner sensitization” session on Monday.

From there, we attempted to have a similar session at another medium security prison in the same complex.  The warden was supposedly expecting us, but after waiting for more than an hour, we decided to leave and return on Friday.

From the prison, I headed to Makerere Medical School to meet with a contact there about Henry’s hoped-for admission in the coming days.  (For new blog followers, Henry is a former juvenile prison who has become a surrogate member of the Gash family).  I learned nothing about the admission timing in the visit, but renewed a good friendship and got a tentative meeting set with the dean of the school.

After spending a couple hours with an American couple trying to surmount some challenges they are facing in Uganda, I headed to the airport with my trusty and entertaining driver, Tango.  We picked up Revolution Picture’s Michelle Abnet, who is the producer of the documentary we are filming.

The action will rev up more each day in advance of Sunday’s all-hands-on-deck team meeting before we descend upon Luzira on Monday.  I hope to be able to start posting some pictures in the next day or two of what is happening beyond the prison walls, but they are still confiscating any cameras before we enter.  We are hoping to have the right permission soon.

I will close with the simple truth I was reminded of today by our Nootbaar Fellow, Susan Vincent, which captures Uganda quite well:

Very little is ideal; so much is possible.

We are praying for the possible . . .

The Luzira Project

My apologies for being a little opaque about the project we are working on during this trip, so what follows is an overview.

In the summer of 2009, while two Pepperdine law students (Greer Illingworth and Micheline Zamora) were interning for the head of Uganda’s Criminal Division of its High Court, they noticed that Uganda’s prisons were overcrowded, to put it mildly, and inquired about the resolution of criminal cases.  They learned that those arrested essentially had two options: plead guilty to all charges filed, or wait “on remand” in prison for their case to go to trial.  At that time, the wait time was five to seven years, and getting longer.  When they suggested the idea of plea bargaining, their judicial boss asked them to write a report.  Following the report, they were asked to do a presentation to the entire Criminal Division.  The idea was well received, and the report was passed along to the Chief Justice of Uganda.

In January of 2010, Jay Milbrandt, David Barrett, Ray Boucher, and I journeyed to Uganda in an effort to bring relief to a group of twenty-one juveniles on remand awaiting their trial in a juvenile remand home, some for as long as two years.  This trip was inspired by a Bob Goff speech at a Christian Legal Society conference.  Bob arranged for the Uganda Country Director of Restore International, which was started and run by Bob Goff and Danny DeWalt, to provide logistical assistance for us.  And since Pepperdine’s first Nootbaar Fellow (law school alum serving a one-year fellowship for the courts in Uganda), John Napier, was already in Uganda, he joined the team of six.  During this one-week project, we prepared all twenty-one cases for resolution by the Ugandan court system.  Many of the cases were dismissed, some kids pled guilty and were sentenced to time served, and a few went to trial.  This was the week I met Henry, the Katikkiro (Prime Minister) of the inmate government, who served as my interpreter for the week, and who is now essentially part of my family.

When one of the cases went sideways, I flew back to Uganda in April of 2010 to assist in the preparation of the sentencing report.  During that trip, I met with the Head of the Criminal Division, who told me he was interested in arranging a plea bargaining study tour to the United States in the wake of the Chief Justice’s receptivity to our students’ report on plea bargaining.  The following month, six Ugandan judges came to Pepperdine for a week of intense study of what plea bargaining was and whether it might work in Uganda.  Two months later, I came back to Uganda with another group of Pepperdine lawyers (including former Vice Dean Tim Perrin) for another week of intense case preparation at a different juvenile remand home.

The plea bargaining idea continued to bubble along, and was discussed further when I returned again in the summer of 2011 with another group of lawyers for another week of case preparation in a juvenile remand home.  That group of lawyers included Pepperdine Provost Darryl Tippens (honorary lawyer), Pepperdine Law interim dean Tom Bost, and Pepperdine alumnus Eric Hagen.  In advance of that week’s activities, I coordinated with American lawyer Brian Dennison, who is on faculty at Uganda Christian University’s law school, and we developed the idea of teams of lawyers that included Pepperdine law students and Pepperdine lawyers, and Uganda law students and Ugandan lawyers.  That combination proved quite successful and became our model.

Along the way, I accepted the Chief Justice’s invitation to move to Uganda to help them re-envision the process through which juveniles move from arrest to trial.  Out of that six months emerged the J-FASTER system whereby kids would be moved through much more quickly.  Several successful pilot programs were run (including one in the summer of 2012 in which Professor Carol Chase joined the team) and the system was integrated, with the excellent and ongoing assistance of an American NGO called Sixty Feet.  As I departed in July of 2012, I delivered to the Chief Justice a roadmap for integrating J-FASTER into the adult realm.  The first recommendation on my list was the formation of a plea bargaining task force.

Last summer, another group of American lawyers joined me for our first foray into the adult realm.  It went reasonably well, but more importantly, it spurred the appointment of the aforementioned task force.  The members of the task force launched a pilot adult program earlier this year that was fully run by Ugandans.  Lessons were learned and then shared last week during the task force’s visit to Pepperdine, as discussed here.  After a week of fine tuning in the United States, the Luzira Project was finalized which launches this weekend.

The Luzira Project will be a collaboration of fourteen Pepperdine law students (twelve interning in Uganda this summer, and two flying in from their internships in Rwanda), ten Pepperdine lawyers, about ten Ugandan lawyers, and about ten Ugandan law students.  The group of more than forty of us will descend upon Uganda’s maximum security prison, called Luzira, for an intense week of case preparation involving more than one hundred adult prisoners who have been waiting on remand for as long as five years for a lawyer and a resolution of their cases.

As is always the case in Uganda, there have been some logistical challenges we are navigating, which is why I came in five days before most of the team, but things are heading the right direction with the excellent assistance of Susan Vincent, Pepperdine’s current Nootbaar Fellow.  The first member of the team to land in Uganda isn’t a lawyer or law student – it is film producer Michelle Abnet, from Revolution Pictures.  Revolution (based in Nashville) began filming a documentary of Pepperdine’s relationship with the Ugandan Judiciary a couple months ago when it interviewed our summer student interns before they left Malibu for Uganda.  Michelle lands on Thursday evening to do some location scouting and logistics.  Then on Friday afternoon, the rest of the film crew arrives – Andy Reale (Director), Tyson Van Skiver (camera), and John Pope (Director of Photography).  Incidentally, John’s last documentary “Blood Brother” won the 2013 Sundance Grand Jury and Audience Awards, as well as a dozen others.

Then on Friday evening, Pepperdine Professor Carol Chase flies in for her third prison project trip.  On Saturday, the bulk of the team lands, including Dana Hinojosa (Nootbaar Manager who is a stellar logistical coordinator and proved it in last summer’s project), Eric Hagen (second prison project), Erica Olson (former colleague of Eric’s and mine from Kirkland, now an intellectual property lawyer for Amgen), Jared Johnson (Las Vegas lawyer), Karissa Freano (Los Angeles lawyer), Bryan Pereboom (flying in from China where he practices with an American firm), Pepperdine Professor Christine Goodman, Pepperdine General Counsel Mark Goodman, and their son Alex.  On Sunday, Pepperdine film professor Craig Detweiler and his family arrive.  Craig was instrumental in the envisioning and logistical navigation of the documentary project from its inception, and will assist the story crafting and filming.

So that’s what we’re doing here.

Incidentally, Wednesday was a day of meetings and logistical planning capped off with a nice dinner with the students.  There are countless ways this entire project could jump the rails in crippling ways, so your prayers are appreciated.

Fase 2

“We are having problems balancing the fuel,” the pilot said as we sat on the tarmac in Amsterdam.  Two hours later, he rambled on about wings and fuselages and fuel movement.  The important words were “new plane” and “new gate.”  So when we finally landed in Kampala at around 2:00 a.m. (3.5 hours late), I was a bit on the tired end.

I had sent Susan Vincent (Pepperdine Nootbaar Fellow in Uganda) an email during the delay so she wouldn’t ruin her entire night by waiting for me.  Anthony, one of the many private drivers I have used over the years was there to greet me.  “You are most welcome, Mr. Jim.  How is America?”

They always want to know how America is doing.  I decided not to go into the specifics of the first-world challenges America is currently facing.  Uganda would love to have the challenge of deciding whether government-mandated health insurance was a good thing or not.  Any sort of reliable health care would be a huge step forward.

After checking for urgent e-mail, the ambien hit the back of my throat at 3:30 a.m., and I collided with Mr. Sandman at 4:00.

I was jarred from my coma by two separate intrusions within thirty seconds of each other.  I got both a wake-up call from the restaurant and a knock on the door from the maid.  Did I want breakfast before it closed at 10:00 a.m.?  Did I want my room cleaned?

Before I could address their questions, I had a few of my own: “Where am I?  What day is it?  Where is Joline?”  The first morning in Uganda always starts with these re-orienting questions.

After brushing off both the restaurant and the maid, I got started making calls and scheduling meetings.  Susan and I ran some logistical errands before having lunch with Andrew, our main logistical coordinator for the prison project we came to do.  When someone does something nice for you in Uganda, you vow to “get revenge” later.  Last week, Andrew was with us at Pepperdine and made many threats of “getting revenge” this week.  He started off this by taking Susan and me to a nice lunch, and then walking us through the arrangements he was trying to make to ensure the project goes off without too many hitches.  There are still numerous boxes to check and permissions to secure before Monday’s kickoff, but things are as on track as they have ever been in this developing country.

Dinner with the Pepperdine Students at Fase 2

Following an afternoon of meetings with judges, I had the privilege of having dinner at a restaurant called Fase 2 with the twelve Pepperdine students here for the summer.  It was so great to see them and to hear their stories about their work with the courts and prosecution and about the adventures they are having.  They are posting regularly at www.wavesofjustice.com.

Today will be another day of meetings and planning before the rest of the team starts trickling in on Thursday.  Many more pictures and stories to come over the next two weeks.  Should be an adventure.