It’s a Boy!

Over the past few years, I have done several things I had previously been certain I would never do.  Bungee jumping, living and driving in Uganda, admitting I needed glasses, etc.  Continuing this stretch of firsts, last week I was asked to name a newborn Ugandan boy.  In fact, the father of the boy insisted that the baby would not have a name unless I stepped up.  Talk about pressure.

So who is the baby boy?  He is Henry’s little brother.

Near the end of our stay in Uganda, Henry’s mother (in her early 40s) was experiencing what she thought were problems associated with high blood pressure.  Dr. Jay Gregston (father in our Twin Family) reviewed the meds she had been prescribed and provided some friendly physician guidance.  When Henry arrived home from school at the end of November, his mother told him that she just learned that she was pregnant . . . and due in less than a month.  As you might expect, the pre-natal care in Uganda falls well below western standards.

For a while, labor pains and contractions pointed toward a Christmas Day birth.  Henry and I talked or texted day after day, but no baby.  Finally, just after midnight Uganda time on January 7th, I received a text from Henry asking me urgently to pray for his mother.  I immediately complied.  Fifteen minutes later came the news that the child had been born and that all was well.  Praise God!

A short while later, Henry texted me again saying that his father wanted me to give the baby his two names.  (In the Ugandan villages, there are no family names – just two names.  Usually, one is an English name and one is an African name).  I immediately picked up the phone and called him.

Me: “Um, your text sounded like I am supposed to give this boy his names.  Are you serious?”

Henry: “Yes, my dad said you need to provide both of his names.”

Me: “I wouldn’t know where to start.  Is your father serious?”

Henry:  “Yes, he said that the boy will not have a name unless you name him.”

Me:  “Well, I guess I could give him his English name, but I don’t know any Runyoro tribe names.”

Henry:  “Any two names you choose are fine.  He does not need a Runyoro or African name.  Just pick two names.”

Me:  “OK, let me call you back.”

I tracked down Joline and informed her of my (our) weighty responsibility, and then we got started.  We got on Google and tooled around a bit looking for inspiration.  We had only named three babies before, and each of those names started with a J.  Make it four.

We immediately gravitated toward Biblical names and kicked around a few of those before settling on Josiah – the Biblical boy king who found favor with God – for one of the names.  For his other name, we decided to suggest a few names that would have significance to how Henry and I met.  The names we suggested were Robert (after Bob Goff, the guy who inspired me to journey to Africa in the first place), Justice (what we jointly sought together after we first met), and James (my given name).  I texted these three names to Henry.  A few minutes later, the boy had a name – James Josiah.

In other news, the door to the prison where I met Henry, which Bob Goff brought me last fall from Uganda, is now installed in its final resting place – pictures in the next few days.

Also, on Friday, I booked a ticket back to Uganda at the end of this month.  I will be there for just over a week as the next juvenile justice session begins.

Promotion

As I have previously written about here, this past school term was critically important for Henry, the Ugandan boy with whom I have become quite close.  It was the third term (of three) in Secondary Five, the next-to-last-year of school before beginning University studies.  After finishing his “A level” (Secondary One through Four) near the top of his class at Bob Goff’s Restore Leadership Academy in Gulu, Henry enrolled in the top Secondary School in the country for his “O Level” to focus on what amounts to pre-med – they take only Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Math.  In order to be promoted to Secondary Six, Henry and his 280 classmates each needed to earn a cumulative score of ten in the final term, which ended in late November.  Unfortunately, Henry fell just short, along with a sizable portion of the class.  Needless to say, this news was hard to take.

Scrambling for options for Henry proved quite challenging from the United States, and I even contemplated getting back on a plane.  After trading e-mails with the Head Teacher with whom I had become friendly, we scheduled a phone call.  During this call, the Head Teacher agreed to meet with Henry two days later to discuss his future.  Because Henry lives in Hoima — four hours away from the capital city of Kampala where the school is located — this would normally have presented a major challenge.  Providentially, Henry was scheduled to travel back to Kampala that very day for a five-day trip to South Africa we had arranged for him join with several of his classmates.

I spoke with Henry just before his meeting with the Head Teacher and gave him a pep talk.  We agreed I would call him one hour later to learn whether he had been promoted to Secondary Six or whether we would need to quickly explore other options.  After a painfully suspenseful (and prayerful) hour, I dialed Henry’s number.  He immediately answered in a whisper, “we are still talking . . . please call in fifteen minutes.”  More waiting, more praying (with Joline and the kids).  Fifteen minutes and four seconds later, I dialed again.  “I am praising God,” was all I remember.  Henry’s effort and determination had convinced the Head Teacher to promote him to Secondary Six.

The next day, Henry boarded an airplane for the first time in his life.  We talked twice while he was in South Africa, and he had a great time.  His world got bigger as he experienced a glimpse of life in the developed world.  One of the goals of this trip was to establish a track record of Henry leaving Uganda and returning to the country.  This is an important consideration in the US Embassy’s decision about whether or not to grant a visa to Henry down the road.  While we don’t have a trip scheduled yet, we are doing our best to lay the foundation for his eventual visit to the United States.

When Henry returned to Hoima, he learned that Big Jim was causing some trouble in the neighborhood.  As discussed here, Big Jim is the bull my former students and my family purchased for Henry’s family (along with a small herd of cows, a flock of chickens, and a couple pigs) to replace what they lost when Henry, his brother, and father were wrongly imprisoned.  While Big Jim had done his job – he had impregnated four of Henry’s family’s cows and several of the neighbor’s cows – he had also broken several fences and had a penchant for disappearing for days at a time in search of other “gardens” to plant his “seed.”  Finally, enough was enough.  But as a gift that keeps on giving, Big Jim was sacrificed earlier today (Christmas Eve) so Henry’s family could have a Christmas feast and sell the rest of the meat.

In other Uganda news, the next J-FASTER session for juvenile prisoners is scheduled to take place in Kampala in late January, with another one scheduled at a Remand Home in Mbale (East of Kampala) in February.  I may be headed back there in conjunction with these sessions and/or to argue (finally) Henry’s appeal.  I still have no hearing date, but I am growing increasingly confident that it will be heard in the first quarter of 2013.

From the Inside Out

As I reflect on the almost unimaginable events of Wednesday in Kampala, a line from one of my favorite songs continues to loop in my head “. . . from the inside out, Lord, my soul cries out.”

I am beginning to feel like the Boy Who Cried Goff.  There are only so many times one can characterize a day as “one of the most memorable in my life” before some serious integrity questioning seeps in.  But put me under oath, hooked up to a polygraph machine, and water board me – my story won’t change.  It was truly one of those had-to-be-there-to-fully-appreciate-it days, but I will give it my best shot.  Though this post will be longer than usual, I promise to make it worth the read.

Let me begin with some important background information.  There is this fantastically whimsical guy named Bob Goff.  I met him in mid-October of 2009.  Nine weeks later I was on a plane to Uganda.  Two years later, I was sitting in the warden’s office at Luzira, Uganda’s maximum security prison, with Bob, a court official named Margaret, and an honest-to-badness Witch Doctor name Kabi.  (Kabi was serving life for castrating a young boy as part of a ritual ceremony.  Miraculously, the boy I have called Hero in prior posts survived and testified against Kabi in a trial attended, funded, and orchestrated by Bob).  Bob had invited me to go with him to visit Kabi at Luzira: “I am going to talk to him about Jesus, you should come.”  So I did.

I have previously written about that memorable encounter here, but suffice it to say that Bob talked to Kabi about Jesus, and Kabi listened.  Not only did he listen, he obeyed.  It was surreal.  About six months later, while I was living with my family in Kampala, Bob returned to Uganda and again invited me to join him on a visit to see Kabi.  He was a changed man.  Exit witch doctor, enter Jesus follower.  I wrote about that encounter here.  At the end of that visit, Kabi declared that if he ever got out of prison, he wanted to be an evangelist.  As we were leaving, Bob said, “Next time we come, we should totally talk to the rest of the prisoners in Luzira about Jesus with Kabi – how cool would that be?”  “Next time” was this past Wednesday.

It pulverized the cool meter.  Nothing left but dust.

A group of about fifteen of us arrived at Luzira in the late morning.  Accompanying Bob on a week-long trip in conjunction with a graduation ceremony at the school in Gulu he runs were folks from all over the United States, including Bob’s film-maker son, Richard.  Also in the group was Margaret, the court official/preacher lady who was with us when Kabi surrendered his life to his Savior.  Hero, the boy Kabi carved up, lives with Margaret now and he came as well, though he stayed in the parking lot, far from the prisoners.  We were ordered to leave in our cars all phones, cameras, or anything else that could record what would happen inside.  Things were a bit chaotic as we went through security because of the size of our group.  Consequently, one or more of our team members didn’t actually get frisked or wanded.  From security, we were ushered into the warden’s office.  The memories of the first two meetings with Kabi flooded back.

The warden, who had been lurking in the background during both of our prior visits with Kabi in his office, instantly remembered Bob and greeted him warmly.  After exchanging some pleasantries, the warden informed Bob that all arrangements had been made and that the prisoners had been told that some people were coming to preach to anyone who was interested in listening.  Bob was effusive with gratitude and explained that he had gone shopping and brought some things with him for the prisoners – lots of soap and sugar.  The warden was pleased.

What happened next was quite remarkable.  Bob used some sort of mind control techniques I have only seen on television to convince the warden to do something he never would have agreed to do, even for a scrillion shillings.  It went something like this:

Bob:               We also brought a balloon we want to inflate and then let it float into the sky.

Warden:        A what?

Bob:               A balloon.  We have a little bit of helium we are going to fill it up with and then it will float away.  It’ll be cool.

Warden:        Oh, I don’t think that will be . . .

Bob:                You’ll love it, it won’t be a problem (nodding).

Warden:         We cannot allow . . . (shaking his head).

Bob:                Awesome, it’s right outside with the sugar and soap.  We’ll bring it in now.  It will be great.  Thanks for letting us do this (nodding).

Warden:         (Stunned Silence).

Bob:                (Standing and reaching to shake his hand). Thanks, Warden.

Warden:         (Cracking a smile and starting to nod) It is OK.

Everyone Else in the Room:  Did that really just happen?

Shortly thereafter, we were escorted outside into the prison courtyard where a thousand or more inmates in yellow prison garb stood, sat, and milled around in a horseshoe pattern facing a table, behind which was a row of chairs for us.  While there were a handful of guards scattered around, the prisoners were not restrained and there were no barriers between us and them.  In fact, as we approached the chairs, an older gentleman hurried up to Bob and embraced him.  “That’s Kabi,” I whispered to a few of the others.  It would have been a rather sweet moment, were it not bathed in irony – a prisoner serving a life sentence warmly embracing the man who was both responsible for putting him prison and helping him secure eternal freedom.  Kabi wore a soft smile of validation and nodded along quietly as Bob spoke gently into his ear for about two minutes.  As their embrace concluded, Kabi spotted me and gave me a warm smile.  I came over and hugged him.  “Do you remember me?” I asked.  He replied in much-improved English, “I remember you from before in the warden’s office.  It is good to see you.”

All the while, gospel music blared through the loudspeakers facing the prisoners, who were, in turn, facing us.  After a few minutes, all eyes turned to a handful of inmates as they struggled through the security gate lugging two eight-foot-long cylindrical helium tanks.  They gingerly set the tanks down in the red-dirt courtyard between us and the inmates.  A steady stream of inmates who had been conscripted into pack-mule duty followed with a half-dozen body-bag sized sacks of sugar, a dozen huge cases of soap bars, and four boxes of one-liter water bottles.  The booty was placed in full view of the prisoners, just to our right.  The sugar and soap I understood because there was enough for everyone, but the 96 water bottles perplexed me.

A hush came over the crowd as the music faded and an inmate who introduced himself as the pastor of the Luzira Pentecostal Church took the mike and welcomed us as their guests.  Over the course of the next twenty minutes, a “prison choir” led us in a few songs, followed by a prayer.  Whenever someone spoke, another interpreted – either from Luganda to English or vice versa.  The pastor resumed his emcee duties and announced that one of their fellow inmates would be sharing his story of how accepting Jesus changed his life.

With his arm around Bob, Kabi approached the microphone.  He proceeded to tell the other inmates about the kind of person he was before he “born again” and the difference it has made in his life.  Bob stood with his friend throughout this powerfully emotional testimony.

Next came Margaret, who brought it Ugandan Pentecostal style.  She paced, she bounced, she stomped, she raised her hands, she pointed her finger, she yelled, and she whispered.  As Margaret was reaching her crescendo, Bob snuck over to the boxes of water, pulled out a handful of one-liter bottles, and noiselessly handed them out amongst our group.  That’s when it clicked.  I grinned broadly as I finally realized why Bob brought the water.

Margaret finished with a flourish, inviting any of the prisoners who had not been born again to accept Jesus right then and there – “Jesus wants to give you a second chance,” she bellowed.  “Raise your hand if you want to accept Jesus today.”  A few hands went up.  “Come forward so we can pray with you and help you receive Jesus.”  A group of a half-dozen or so emerged from the crowds and stood in the middle of the courtyard in front of Margaret.  Bob’s barely perceptible head nod prompted us into action.  We converged on the penitents, open bottles in hand.

I approached a young man in his early twenties.  His slightly trembling body and penetratingly pleading eyes conveyed the sincerity and urgency he felt.  He told me in somewhat broken English that his name was Ibrahim, revealing the fact that he was born Muslim.  He told me his other name (there are no last names in Uganda, just two names), but I couldn’t quite understand him – Margaret continued to preach and the others who had come forward were talking and praying with the others in our group.  He pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote his other name down. “I want you to remember me,” he said.  “I promise I will remember you and that I will be praying for you,” I insisted as I pocketed the piece of paper.

I cannot remember precisely all that I said and that he said, but we prayed together, I told him that Jesus loved him and that he and I were now brothers.  I also tried to explain that if he wanted me to, I was going to baptize him with the water for the forgiveness of his sins.  He said he understood and he wanted just that.  (My baptism experiences and theology strongly lean toward immersion, rather than pouring of water on the head, but there weren’t any bodies of waters handy, so we made due).  By this time, it had started to drizzle, and the rain mixed with our respective tears as we prayed together.  We both got a bit more wet as I poured a small portion of the water bottle over Ibrahim’s head.  He closed his eyes, turned his head toward the sky, and trembled some more.

As I had attempted to describe for him what I was going to do, I had used the term “holy water” in an effort to convey the symbolism of baptism.  I did not intend to use this term in a way that it is often used in Catholic churches, but Ibrahim must have understood it that way.  As I poured the water on his head, I again used this terminology.  After the second small pour, he opened his eyes and said, “I must drink the holy water.”  That’s a new one, I thought.  As he chugged the entire bottle, my mind immediately locked on the song referenced above – my heart warmed as I briefly reflected on the contrast between baptism through immersion of the outside of one’s body and Ibrahim’s experience of being baptized “. . . from the inside out.”

While Ibrahim and I were in our own little world, another handful of prisoners had come forward and about a dozen or so were locked in conversation and prayer with the rest of our group.  After some more hugging and rejoicing, we all resumed our original seats.

The final song was familiar to me and my breath caught when they started singing:

Let the spirit of the Lord come down,

Let the spirit of the Lord come down,

Let the spirit of the Lord from heaven come down,

Let the spirit of the Lord come down.

That was the very song the prisoners at the Masindi Remand Home sang to our group as we departed during our visit in January of 2010.  I will always remember the gratitude and hope in the juveniles’ eyes that day.  And here was that same song again being sung by another group of Ugandan prisoners clinging to hope.

Next, it was Bob’s turn at the microphone.  Bob shines lots of places, but nowhere as brightly as in front of a crowd.  As Bob began to talk about what it means to be forgiven, two of our number snuck in behind him and started to inflate a big while balloon, using the helium tanks that had been lugged in.  Bob explained that in a few minutes, the balloon would be released into the air and carry our sins up to the heavens.  Blank stares.  I could almost hear what was going through the minds of the thousand-plus crowd.  What could he possibly mean?  How are my sins going to be carried to the heavens?  What is a balloon?

On cue, Bob explained the whole thing.  He instructed his son Richard to slowly move through the crowd holding a Styrofoam ice chest with the word “FORGIVENESS” emblazoned on it.  As Richard moved through the crowd, they clambered to touch it, symbolically placing their requests for forgiveness into the box.  What they didn’t know is that a camera had been embedded into the size of the box and was filming them reaching for it.

As Richard completed the circle, the balloon reached its capacity.  The prisoners and all but one of the guards were mesmerized.  The head guard, however, was becoming increasingly agitated and appeared about to put a stop to it at any moment.  He clearly realized that there was about to be a space launch from the depths of Uganda’s only maximum security prison and he was not at all pleased.  He must have realized, however, that intervening and shutting the entire thing down would likely have caused unrest among the prisoners, if not a full-fledged riot, so he kept his powder dry.  For the moment.

As Richard tied the box to the balloon, Bob whipped the crowd into a frenzy and counted down the launch.  Five.  Four.  Three.  Two.  One.  Launch.

A roar erupted as the balloon lifted off.  For the next five minutes, all eyes were heavenward as the space craft gained altitude.  All eyes except for one pair.  The head guard.  He made a beeline for Bob.  Bob saw him coming and signaled for the rest of us to head for the exits.  I feel constrained to reserve for Bob the full telling of what happened next and what words were exchanged, but suffice it say that the guard figured out that there was a camera on the box and at least one or more (there were more) other hidden cameras capturing the day’s events.  Bob, of course, sweet talked his way out of this potential jam.  One of the hidden cameras captured this image of the balloon launch.

"Forgiveness" Launch from Luzira Prison

Lots of hugs, high fives, and tears in the parking lot as we reconvened.  It will probably take years to fully comprehend and process the day’s events.

Wrapping Up

My last full day on the ground in Uganda was again filled with meetings and introductions of David to the relevant participants in juvenile justice work placed before us.  Before the June departure of Shane Michael (David’s predecessor as a Pepperdine Nootbaar Fellow in Uganda), he and I drafted a funding proposal on behalf of the Uganda Christian Lawyer’s Fraternity (UCLF) for a large grant from an organization run by the Danish government.  This grant would provide UCLF with the resources to become the de facto lawyers for the imprisoned children of Uganda.  Since Uganda does not have a public defender’s office, which would otherwise provide free legal representation for those in conflict with the law, UCLF seeks to fill this gap.

On Monday, UCLF signed the grant papers and will immediately begin to staff up.  It was gratifying to be with the Director of UCLF on Tuesday (i) to celebrate the awarding of this grant, (ii) to introduce David to the UCLF team, and (iii) to strategize about next steps.  Naturally, UCLF is eager for the next J-FASTER session to get slated.

During the J-FASTER Pilot Program and the follow-on Masindi session, the prosecution (DPP) was a model of helpfulness and professionalism.  At every turn, the DPP embraced plea bargaining in the juvenile realm and remains positive about its eventual integration into the adult arena.  Yesterday was no exception.  David is now connected with the right people there and they welcome the beginning the next session of J-FASTER.

In that regard, our follow-up meetings with the court on Tuesday were quite encouraging.  It looks like a judge has been secured and the green light is on.  I have learned to manage my expectations here because green lights can turn yellow in a matter of moments, but we are cautiously optimistic that things will get going quite soon.  (Sorry for being vague here with respect to names and dates, but circumspection is required at this point).

Another opportunity has presented itself that could be quite important and interesting with respect to the Remand Homes.  Further discussions and investigation will take place in the coming weeks, but if this comes to fruition, the living conditions of the imprisoned kids of Uganda could see a material uptick.

I finally caught up with Bob Goff and his crew for dinner at the Fang Fang Restaurant.  Whenever Bob is in town, he shares a meal with his friends on the judiciary.  I was pleased to be able to assist him in setting this up, so we were joined by the top three judicial officers in the country – Chief Justice Odoki, Deputy Chief Justice (retired) Bahigeine, and Principal Judge Bamwine.  A great time was had by all.

Bob and David with Uganda's Top Three Judges

As usual, Bob was in high spirits and it was good to see him on this side of the world.  Bob was here in Uganda for the graduation ceremony for the school in Gulu called Restore Leadership Academy that was founded and run by Bob’s organization Restore International.  At graduation every year, Bob rocks the kids’ world with something new and different.  This year actually expanded their world.  I don’t want spoil the story I am sure will be told soon by Bob and those who were eyewitnesses, but suffice it to say that it involved a space launch, the cargo of which ended up in the quite puzzled hands of the Democratic Republic of Congo’s military.  When the details and footage become available, I will provide a link.

I have a few more meetings on Wednesday before boarding an 11:30 p.m. flight home, but will also be hanging out with Bob and some others at a place I visited with Bob last year at this time for what was A Day I Will Never Forget.

Reunions and Introductions

Sunday mornings in Kampala bustle with activity, though little of it takes place on the roads.  Uganda is a predominantly Christian nation – roughly 80 percent Christian, 10 percent Muslim, and a smattering of other religions – and the vast majority of Ugandans attend church.  Because there are so many church goers, churches are ubiquitous.  And because there are so many churches, there is bound to be one within walking distance.  Consequently, most Ugandans walk to church, which leaves the roads wide open – a welcome relief from the grinding gridlock (here simply referred to as “jam”) typically encountered in and around Kampala.

This allowed for a smooth and uneventful 45-minute drive to pick up Henry from his Catholic school.  I arrived a little before 9:00 as the students were finishing their morning Mass.  This allowed me to reunite with the Head Teacher at Henry’s school – a fairly young and very capable leader.  He signed Henry’s permission slip to leave campus and we chatted for a few minutes about my work in Uganda.

Henry’s final exams for the third and final term of the year begin next week.  Unlike at most other secondary schools in Uganda, Henry’s final exams make up his entire grade for the term.  There are no mid-terms, homework assignments, class participations points, or anything of that nature — just the four exams (Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Math).  In each class, Henry will be assigned a grade between 0 and 5.  In order to advance from Senior Five to Senior Six, after which he intends to apply to medical school, Henry needs to score a cumulative total of 12 points this term.  He is working hard, and praying harder.  He would be grateful for any additional prayers offered on his behalf.  I had seriously considered bringing him to Jinja with me for the day, but thought better of it.  As a consequence of his upcoming exams, we needed to limit the time away from his studies.

Instead we went to breakfast in the mall area.  Café Javas is a favorite among the ex-patriot community and serves American-ish food.  Henry enjoyed his first-ever breakfast burrito and marveled at the flat tortilla, which resembles the chapattis his mother daily prepares and sells in huge quantities in order to make ends meet for Henry’s family. The day before, Henry had proudly shown me his brand-new passport and some photographs taken of him at a school party.  The passport will allow Henry to leave Uganda for the very first time in conjunction with a trip he and some other students are taking to South Africa in early December.  Not only will this trip be fun and educational, but it will begin the process of establishing a pattern of leaving the country and returning, which (I am told) is a critical component of a Visa application to enter the United States.  We are hoping for that opportunity a year or two down the road.  I really liked a few of the pictures of Henry from the school party, so we found a Kodak photo shop in the mall (things are definitely westernizing here) and made digital copies of the photos.  Like American senior pictures, this one makes Henry look older than he really is:

Henry at School

And here is a photo I took of him on our excursion:

Henry During our Field Trip away from School

While we waited for the photo shop to finish its work, we bought some supplies and food items for Henry to take back with him to school.  David Nary met us in the parking lot around noon, and we headed back to drop off Henry.  After hugs and goodbyes, David and I set off to Jinja to meet up with my friend Katie and her girls.

Many of those reading this will recall a few of my prior posts about Katie, but for the new readers, Katie is an amazing young woman (she turns 24 this week) who moved to Uganda just out of high school and has established a wonderful ministry called Amazima, through which Katie feeds, educates, and empowers hundreds and hundreds of the poorest of the poor.  Her book is called Kisses from Katie and has been a regular on the New York Times Bestseller List since its release over a year ago.  It has now been translated into four other languages.  During our time in Uganda, our family got to know (and love) Katie’s family, about which you can read more in her book, or on her blog.

Before I left home, Joline had the great idea of getting autographs from Katie and each of her girls on a copy of her book.  I suspect I am the only one who now has such a signed copy.  And no, it is not for sale.  It is for us.  We had a wonderful visit with Katie and her family, and went to pool with them for their Sunday afternoon swim.  Each visit with her inspires me more to look for ways to surrender my faith to God’s leading in my life.

______________

Monday was a whirlwind of reunions and introductions.  The main goal of my trip was to connect David with as many players as possible in the juvenile justice project on which I had worked when I was here.  We made a big dent in this mission on Monday.  We met with members of the Criminal Division of the High Court, the Chief Justice, the Principal Judge, and officials at the Ministry of Gender.  The meetings all went well, and we are cautiously optimistic that the baton is successfully being passed to David in the eyes of the Uganda officials, such that the next iterations of J-FASTER can begin in short order.

Along the way, I made a side trip to the Court of Appeals to catch with Alex, a Court Registrar I first met when he visited the United States with a delegation from the Ugandan judiciary in May of 2010.  Alex has been instrumental in so many ways and a blessing to so many families in ways that I will never be able to fully discuss.  Until very recently, Alex worked for the Court of Appeals (he is now in the Land Division).  From his perch there, Alex was able to keep me updated as to the status of the scheduling of my oral argument in Henry’s case.  Due to petitions following the February 2011 elections, which are constitutionally mandated to take precedence over all other court work, the appellate hearing has been delayed on numerous occasions.  The original oral argument date of March of 2011 has been pushed back more times I can count.  Last month, I had been given a glimmer of hope that the argument would likely happen in November of this year, though I was careful to manage my expectations.  I learned Monday that I was right to do so – early next year is what I am now being told.  Thanks to Alex, I now have a friend in the new point person for the scheduling process.

The long day ended with a delightful dinner with Alex, his wife, and the just-retired Deputy Chief Justice (DCJ) of Uganda at a lodge perched high on one of Kampala’s seven hills.  I renewed my love affair with Ugandan meat, and renewed my deep friendship and admiration for her Lordship (as they say here).  The DCJ is such a wise and lovely lady and I am blessed to know her.

Tuesday will be another long day of reunions and introductions, culminating a dinner with Bob Goff, judges, and friends.

Beginning and Ending in Prayer

Saturday started off really early, though not intentionally.  I have previously written about my troubles sleeping in Uganda, and they re-emerged on this trip.  It is hard to discern whether the challenges stem from the natural difficulties adjusting to the ten-hour time difference, the excitement and busyness of my schedule while I am in country, or from the loud-speaker encouragement from the local Mosque to spend some time praying – right then and there.  Sounded like a good idea to me.  Does it count if I was praying that the power source for the loudspeaker would miraculously fail?  By 4:30, I was up and up for good.

When I rolled out of bed and flipped on my computer, I realized that the power in the house in which I was staying was, indeed, out.  I stumbled to the window and look down into the valley, enveloped in darkness, speckled only an occasional fire light.  I guess my power failure prayers had been answered.  And yet the blessed loudspeaker blared on.  Unfortunately, the Mosque’s generator squelched my sought-after miracle.  The public national holiday on Friday corresponded with a Muslim holiday that apparently necessitated some serious chanting while I was trying to sleep in order to be carried to fruition.

After doing some writing and answering some e-mails, I hopped into the driver’s seat of my newly acquired Toyota RAV4 and drove to the Garden City Mall to pick up David for our first meeting of the day.  This meeting was with Mark Riley, who relocated with his family to Uganda from Wales about two years ago to work as a UNICEF consultant on orphan and child protection issues.  Mark is embedded with the Ministry of Gender, which oversees the Remand Homes.  Mark’s focus is on developing and implementing an alternative care framework for how to deal with Uganda’s substantial orphan population.  We became close during my prior stay in Uganda after our paths crossed in conjunction with both my work on the J-FASTER program (he shares an office with someone at the Ministry responsible for implementing various aspects of J-FASTER) and with some advice and assistance I was providing on an ad hoc basis to American families seeking to adopt Ugandan orphans. Mark has proven to be a good friend and an invaluable source of information and insight into Uganda’s orphan challenges and what the best solutions might be.  In fact, my weekly interactions with Mark (and others) inspired me to lobby for Pepperdine Law to host an international conference on Inter-Country Adoption, which will take place in early February of next year.  More information on that conference is available here.  It appears likely that Mark will be attending and speaking at this conference where those on all sides of this important issue will exchange ideas and propose solutions to the world-wide orphan problems, with special attention on how Christians and other people of faith should or should not respond to this global challenge.

We next met with Isaac Obiro, who is one of Uganda’s most influential adoption lawyers, and who represented many of my old and new American friends who were granted legal guardianship over Ugandan children.  I have previously posted about cases where Isaac provided legal services to the Ribbens family and Brown family here and here, respectively.  A touching story about the Ugandan orphan boy adopted by the Brown family was recently published in Pepperdine’s Law Magazine here.  Isaac updated me on how things have been going over the past couple of months in this realm, and we chatted about the upcoming conference.  Isaac embraced the opportunity to speak at this February conference in Malibu, and he looks forward to reuniting with many of his clients from around the United States who will be attending the conference.

From lunch with Isaac, David and I went to see Henry at his boarding school where is in his penultimate year of secondary school and is studying to be a doctor.  Henry will be familiar to those who have kept up with the Gash Family’s Ugandan adventure, but for those who haven’t, Henry is a big part of how and why we ended up moving to Uganda for six months earlier this year.  I first met Henry in the Masindi Remand Home in January of 2010, and we have been close ever since.  More on who Henry is here and here.  We spent an hour or so together at his school, and I am picking him up Sunday morning for a four-hour excursion away from school.

We ended the day with a great dinner with a wonderful group of Americans who were visiting Uganda on a mission trip.  David and I especially connected with a group of six from a church in Huntsville, Alabama, with whom we laughed, cried, and prayed about what God was doing in Uganda and in our respective lives.  We are grateful to our friends from Sixty Feet for introducing us to these faithful seekers of God’s will for their lives.

I am also grateful to you for wading through this quick and often-meandering update.  Sunday should be lots of fun – four hours with Henry, and then a quick trip to meet up with some very special friends in Jinja.

In the Driver’s Seat

Kampala was as I remembered it – a bustle of activity on the road from the airport into town, even at close to midnight.  David Nary, Pepperdine alumnus who is serving a one-year Nootbaar Fellowship in Uganda, along with the trusty Daniel who has served as the driver for the prior Fellows over the past three years, had picked me up and shuttled me to the large house just outside of Kampala where the Sixty Feet interns stayed.  The Sixty Feet team had graciously permitted me to stay with them during this trip, decreasing the expenses for this trip.

As I tried to articulate to those who had asked why I was coming back to Uganda mid-week, mid-semester, the best response I could muster was “I am looking for someone to occupy the driver’s seat.”  During my six months in Uganda earlier this year, we had initiated several projects that were aimed at vastly improving the efficiency of the juvenile justice system – moving children from arrest to trial in a fraction of the time it has historically taken.  The difficulty in implementing reforms is often not in the initial injection, but in the longer-term integration of the program into the DNA of the organism.

The J-FASTER pilot program had gone off as planned.  The first post-pilot iteration of the program went even better.  We emptied a Remand Home of all twenty-two of the juveniles awaiting trial – some cases were dismissed for lack of evidence, many kids were released because they had already served more time while awaiting trial than their misdeeds warranted, and some were serving out the rest of the sentences they were justly given.  But when I left, and when the Sixty Feet legal intern Abby left, the driver’s seat was empty.  The car was fueled and fine-tuned, but no one was at the wheel.  Unfortunately, this car is not a drone – remote control from Malibu is not an option.

Friday saw four meetings with four possible drivers for J-FASTER.  My court-assigned driver, Michael, from earlier this year picked me up in the morning, but he wasn’t driving the car we had previously used.  In fact, he wasn’t even driving.  Instead, he arrived in the passenger seat of a van driven by another court driver.  The car assigned to Michael was in the shop, so he took what was available.  But what was available was a gas-guzzling 15-seater that came with its own driver.  Accordingly, Michael was simply along for the ride.  I was quite touched by his display of loyalty – Friday was a national holiday, and he could have been home with his family.

I met up with David at the Commercial Court building where we had our first meeting with a representative of UNICEF.  She had arrived in Uganda from India just before I left, and our paths had not crossed.  Abby had been corresponding with her from the United States and had sent her my final report about J-FASTER.  She had read it with interest and wanted to chat further about potentially partnering with us on future J-FASTER sessions.  David had met her briefly the day before, along with Sarah from the Criminal Division of the High Court, and things were looking promising.  After our meeting, things still quite promising, but not necessarily immediate.  UNICEF’s budget coincides with the calendar year, so we are still a few months away from any sense of whether any UNICEF funds can be allocated to this.  Over the course of the conversation, it became clear that UNICEF would not be able to climb into the driver’s seat.  Their role in these types of projects is to work behind the scenes and to assist with funding and logistics.

Next, we traveled to the Naguru Remand Home to check in with the good folks who feed, shelter, and counsel with the juvenile inmates while they await trial.  David and I confirmed that there are now at least a dozen kids whose capital crime cases have been committed for trial.  This means that there is nothing that is preventing their cases from immediately moving forward.  All they need is someone to put the J-FASTER car into gear.  As we already knew, the probation officers and warden at the Remand Home lack the power and authority to move anything along – their role is to react once things start moving forward.  With respect to the data-base project, the data points are being gathered and prepared for entry into the system, but some bureaucratic snags have prevented the entry from happening.  Hopefully, a meeting early next week will get things moving again.

From the Remand Home, we journeyed out to Uganda Christian University to meet with Brian Dennison, an American lawyer who has been working with the UCU law school for nearly four years.  Brian has coordinated the joint efforts we have undertaken with UCU on prior juvenile sessions, including the J-FASTER pilot program.  Brian reaffirmed UCU’s commitment to assisting the Uganda Christian Legal Fraternity lawyers in their representation of the kids in the Remand Homes.  We also talked about future collaborations as we attempt to integrate plea bargaining into the adult criminal justice system.  While UCU is and will continue to be a valuable partner in all of our efforts, they are not in the position to get into the driver’s seat.

From UCU, we went to dinner at my favorite restaurant at the Emin Pasha Hotel.  We were joined at dinner by Duncan, a Ugandan lawyer who represented the adults in the few cases where they had been charged with the juveniles in the J-FASTER session.  Duncan also teaches criminal procedure at Kampala International University and is a proactive, reform-minded guy who truly wants to help change the system.  In fact, Duncan, along with Sarah, served as the lead mediator in the plea bargaining activities in Masindi for the first J-FASTER follow-on session to the pilot program.  With his assistance, all twenty-two cases were resolved without trial.  Duncan is fully on board and eager to play a role, but as a private lawyer, he is unable to climb into the driver’s seat himself.

None of this came as a surprise.  I had no illusions that any of these four meetings would result in a driver.  But these meetings were of critical importance in introducing and connecting these players with David, to whom I hope to be able to hand the keys soon so he can rev the engine and squeal some tires.

Speaking of keys, through a friend from my prior time here, I had a rental car delivered to the restaurant while we ate.  It just didn’t seem right to be riding around in a van while my driver sat in the passenger seat.  Accordingly, I am back in an actual driver’s seat, wrong side of the road and all.  Uganda just became a bit less safe for pedestrians and boda boda drivers.

Goin’ Back to ‘Ganda

Today, at long last, I was inducted into “good enough.”  No candles on my favorite cake, no balloons congratulating me, not even a whisper of congratulations.  Just some Dutch lady in a KLM uniform grudgingly acknowledging that I was now good enough to enter the VIP lounge at the Amsterdam Schipol Airport.

“I have been inside before, you know.  I know what where the soft drink machine is.  I know where you keep the extra crackers when the bowl on the counter is empty.  I also know what the inside of the ladies room looks like.” I almost said all of this to the lady behind the counter in response to her rather dismissive look.  Or was that just a Dutch look?

I really had been in there before.  But I had spent a whole lot more time sitting outside looking in at the people who were good enough.  On my first trip to Uganda in January of 2010, I accompanied Jay Milbrandt . . . and he was good enough.  He had a card that said so.  They let him right in and he got to bring me along because good enough people get to bring in friends.  This VIP lounge had it all.  It had all the alcohol I could drink.  For free.  I drink precisely as much as Romney, but I could have gotten real sloppy if I wanted to.  Instead, I taxed my bladder like it was a One Percenter in a second Obama term by drinking four times more Diet Coke than is currently legal in New York City.

When my own version of April 15th arrived a few minutes later, I was so sleepy from the trip and so distracted by the excess caffeine about to mount a jailbreak, I little-boy stepped into the little boys’ room.  No urinals?  Those Dutch . . .  Hmm, are those high heels under the stall I see tapping in front of me?  Those Dutch . . . or is that an Idaho Senator?  Is that a couch I see in the corner?  That’s weird.  Oh wait.  Am I . . .?

I retraced my little-steps and confirmed that I am a buffoon.  For the record, there are seven urinals and zero couches in the boys’ room in the KLM VIP lounge.  The lounge also has WiFi, and they proudly display the Security key at the front desk.  On each of my six subsequent flights to Uganda, I have been Jay-less.  So each visit to the VIP lounge has generated the same derisive laughter from the lounge’s bouncer. “But I have flown on KLM twice, thrice, frice . . .,” I pleaded on consecutive trips.  “I have been anointed “Silver Elite” by your partner airline.  Am I good enough yet?”  Once, I even approached the counter like I was in a soup line on a Seinfeld episode.  Maybe I wasn’t following the approach rules, I wondered.  “No soup for you,” Helga barked.  Apparently Seinfeld is syndicated in Amsterdam now.

I always had the last laugh, though, because while I was getting humiliated at the counter, I memorized the WiFi code, then camped out the like the proverbial leper outside the temple gates and caught up on e-mail.  Today was finally different.

“Yes, you are good enough.  Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”  Apparently, having a “Gold Elite” card does the trick.  And apparently flying back and forth to Uganda seven times gets you a Gold Elite card.  So here I sit at the weigh station between Los Angeles and Entebbe, Uganda.

I had not intended to return to Uganda so quickly, having lived in the capital city of Kampala with my family from January through July of this year.  I returned to teaching full time this past fall, having completed a seven-year administrative stint at the law school, which culminated in the Ugandan sabbatical.  The Ugandan judiciary could not have been more gracious and receptive during our stay – you don’t need a Gold Elite card to be considered good enough by the beautiful and kind people of the Pearl of Africa.  With the cooperation of a couple-a-three dozen dedicated civil servants in the judiciary, Ministry of Gender, and in the prisons, we were able to propose and pilot a new framework for moving juvenile criminal cases from arrest to trial that drastically shortens that time frame.  Also critical to the success of this J-FASTER program was the financial and logistical support of Sixty Feet (sixtyfeet.org), a Christian organization based in Atlanta who is pouring itself into imprisoned children in Uganda.

From the beginning, we understood that the hard part of implementing this program was not going to be the initial pilot session, or even the follow-on session we did as I was leaving.  The challenge is, and will be, sustainability and self-sufficiency.  This trip will focus on advancing those long-term objectives.

Pepperdine funds a law-school alumnus every year to live and work in Kampala embedded within the judiciary.  The Nootbaar Fellows, as they are called, work primarily for the Commercial Court as mediators.  (Incidentally, the Nootbaar Fellows are named for the benefactors of Pepperdine’s Nootbaar Institute for Law, Religion, and Ethics – Herb and Elinor Nootbaar).  Herb turns 104 next week, and I scheduled this trip to Uganda to ensure that I was back in time to attend his birthday party a week from Saturday).

The 2011-12 Nootbaar Fellow, Shane Michael, also branched out and provided valuable assistance and vision for the J-FASTER program in the Criminal Division, as will the new Nootbaar Fellow, David Nary.  David arrived in Uganda for his year-long fellowship earlier this month, and one of the goals for my week-long trip is to connect him with all of the wonderful people with whom I was blessed to work early this year.

Also on the agenda is to check on the implementation of the database project we initiated for the largest Remand Home in Uganda.  Remand Homes are prisons where arrested juveniles are held until their trials, which can take up to two years.  Kampala is home to the largest such Remand Home in Uganda, where 150 or so children are kept.  Since we have been coming to Uganda, the Naguru Remand Home has kept a massive, table-sized book where periodic hand-written notes are scribbled about each child.  The credit for bringing this project from an idea I had a couple years ago, to a functional system goes to Sixty Feet, who designed and oversaw the implementation. The Naguru Remand Home now has a computerized tracking system that, if properly maintained, will provide all material information about every child in the Remand Home, including court dates, medical records, disciplinary records, etc.  The official launch of this project came after I left and I am eager to check in to see how it is going.

The part of the trip I am most excited about, however, is hanging out with Bob Goff for a couple days just before I return home next week.  Bob is completely nuts and has a potentially fatal allergy to anything ordinary.  We are going to have a dinner with a bunch of our judge friends next Tuesday night, then we hope to create quite a stir at a place where lots of locals hang out for long periods of time.  I have no idea how it will go, but I have no doubt that it will be memorable.

I covet your prayers for this trip and for the kids in the Ugandan prisons who are “good enough” to warrant the time and attention we hope to provide them as they seek to gain access to justice.  I am grateful to Dean Tacha for continuing to support the vision of her predecessors of living out the mission of Pepperdine Law School by seeking to serve the forgotten and voiceless at home and around the globe.

How He Loves

This past week, Monday through Thursday, I went with my school to Arizona. By the way, this is my first post since we returned to the US about two months ago. Nothing in my life has really been “blog worthy” until now. This wasn’t just a camp where we learned about nature and went hiking. No, this was a learn-more-about-yourself-and-your-savior trip. Just to let you know, I was tempted to write saviour instead of savior, which is the Ugandan/British way to spell it.

I feel like I really understood the point of the trip. The verse for the week was Ephesians 4:1-2 which says, “As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” This verse pretty much tells us what to do to live a life worthy of the calling of God. When I was in Uganda, I was sure I was living the way God wanted me to be living. Since I’ve gotten back, it’s been harder to do that. I’m at school from 7:15 to 5:30 most days and I don’t have time to do anything. Or so I think.

 

One of the first nights in Arizona, we sang the song How He Loves. It tells us point blank how God loves us. Before Arizona, when I was singing that song, or any song, really, I would sing but I wouldn’t really hear the words. What I mean by that is that I would sing but I wouldn’t get anything out of the songs. I certainly wouldn’t apply it to my life.

 

You see, I think that I don’t have time to live a life worthy of the calling of God, but I do. While we were in Arizona, a girl told a story that broke my heart. On the last night, everyone on the trip was sharing something either that they learned about the week or really anything at all.  Her grandfather died from drug use and her mom would’ve, but she turned to God.  She was diagnosed with diabetes when she was four and is now twelve. Her parents recently told her that they were getting a divorce and that she has to tell her little sister. My friends’ sister looks up to her and she knows that it will break her heart when she finds out.

 

As you know, I’m a crier. I don’t know if I’ve ever shed that many tears in one night. Certainly not from one story. This showed me that we all need to love each other no matter what, and especially when one of us is going through a hard time. While at school, I can live a life worthy of the calling of God simply by showing compassion to others. I never knew it could be that simple.

I hope that everyone reading this remembers this. Whether young or old, a believer or a non-believer, rich or poor. GOD LOVES EVERYONE!!!! I wish I could make the words jump because that’s how much those words mean to me.

“He is jealous for me. Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree. Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

-How He Loves David Crowder Band

 

 

Love Always, Jennifer Gash

 

 

The Coolest Gift I Ever Received

I have received many really great presents over the course of my lifetime.  A train set.  A bike.  Lots of ties.  A trip to Vegas.  And when I turned 40, my wife even bought me a car.

But I have never received a cooler gift than I got last night.  And it wasn’t even my birthday.  The really cool gift?

A door.  Yes, a door.  And not a new door.  It’s an old door.  But it’s not just any old door.  Let me explain.

When our dear friends Tim and Lucy Perrin left sunny, breezy, beautiful Malibu for parched, windy, desolate Lubbock this summer, Joline and I inherited the weekly law student Bible on Wednesday nights that used to meet in Tim and Lucy’s home.  Each week, the group of about seventy students meets to worship, pray, and hear an encouraging word from a speaker, which is typically a member of the law school faculty.

The first gathering was last week, but it was more of an informal get-to-know-each-other kind of thing.  We sang and prayed, but didn’t have a featured speaker.  We wanted to have the first speaker be someone who started the school year off right and who would draw a crowd.  We also wanted to have someone who personified this year’s theme of “Living a Life Worthy of the Calling We Have Received.”

For the four or fifth year in a row, Bob Goff and his law partner Danny DeWalt are teaching a non-profit law class on Wednesday nights.  Since Bob is one of my personal heroes and is perhaps the best storyteller I have ever heard, we asked Bob to kick off the year.  We happened to catch Bob at just the right time in his busy speaking schedule – he is in huge demand to speak all over the country in the wake of the release of his NYT Bestselling Book called “Love Does.”  It is must read.

Bob Goff Speaking to Pepperdine Law Students

True to form, Bob was awesome.  He encouraged the students not to be typical – to use the gifts God has given them to serve others.  He talked about how blessed he has been by those he has met during his travels to Uganda, where he operates a school in war-torn Northern Uganda.  He also talked about how inspired he was by “Two-Bunk John,” who was the Uganda country director for Bob’s organization Restore International for the past five years.  Two-Bunk John (Niemeyer) is now a first-year law student at Pepperdine and is in my Torts class.

I met John during my first trip to Uganda in January of 2010, which had been inspired by a talk Bob Goff gave in October of 2009, along with some heavy encouragement by Jay Milbrandt (author of “Go and Do”).  I met John at a juvenile Remand Home (prison) in Masindi, Uganda.  Over the course of a week, John, Jay, and I, along with three Pepperdine Law grads, interviewed the 21 juvenile prisoners and prepared legal briefs on their behalf, which helped them gain access to justice, and eventually freedom.  When I was back in Uganda earlier this year, we went back to that same prison and helped the 22 new prisoners there get access to justice as well.

As Bob was telling a bit of this story last night, I saw John slip out the back.  While I momentarily wondered where he was going, I thought little of his disappearance.  Near the end of his talk, Bob explained that he and John had gone to the juvenile prison in Masindi and ripped off the doors, adding a symbolic exclamation point to the idea of setting the captives permanently free.  (They, of course, bought and installed new doors to replace the ones they took).  As Bob concluded with a flourish, John re-emerged carrying a door.

I immediately recognized that door as the one that detained the female prisoners since the prison was built in the late 1960s.  I got goose bumps, and once again marveled at the power of Bob’s storytelling – he told a story about setting the captives free, and then he brought the door that had been ripped off the hinges in the process.  Genius.

And then the nickel dropped.  Bob turned to me and said, “John and I have been talking about it and we want you to have this door.”  Words on a page are incapable of describing the emotions that overtook me.  I concede that it sounds silly to be blown away by a gift of an old door, but I was.  I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t breathe, and I could barely see as tears welled up.  I eventually composed myself enough to join Bob at the front to receive the coolest gift I have ever received.

Bob, Jay, Jim, and John with the Door to the Masindi Remand Home

Joline, the kids, and I have figured out the perfect place for the door and will be posting a picture of it when we get it installed.