Abigail Skeans, 2L
Sixty Feet
Protection of Children/Rule of Law Development
Uganda
This past
Sunday, I traveled with a group of law students and lawyers from Pepperdine University
School of Law to Masindi, a town about five hours northwest of Kampala, to work
on the cases of the juveniles who are being held at Ihungu, one of the country’s
five remand homes. In Uganda, a juvenile awaiting trial is held in a remand
home (juvenile detention facilities) which offers poor living conditions and
isolates the child from his family, community, and educational opportunities.
According to Uganda’s Children’s Act, a juvenile should be on remand for a
maximum of six months; however, as is the case at Ihungu, children sometimes
remain on remand for up to two years.
Masindi is a small
town that is often a stop-over spot for tourists on their way to Murchison
Falls National Park. Compared to Kampala, it is quiet, clean, and quaint. As we
arrived at the historic Masindi Hotel, which boasts famous guests such as
Humphrey Bogart and Catherine Hepburn, we debriefed on the intense work that
was ahead of us for the three short days we would work at Ihungu.
Late Sunday
night, we received case files from the local prosecutor (DPP) and began pouring
over the files which included all handwritten statements. We divided into three
groups, discussed the cases, prepared questions, and strategized about the
depositions we would begin the next morning.
Monday morning,
we arrived at Ihungu. It was the first time some of the members of the group
had been to a remand home, and it was my first time at Ihungu. The compound is
a former prison. There are separate buildings for boys and girls and the youth
range from ages 12 to 17.
We entered into
the boys’ building, introduced ourselves, prayed with the boys, and began to
explain why we had come and what we hoped to accomplish on their behalf over
the next three days.
We were
provided with plastic chairs and began interviewing our clients beneath the
mango trees, beside the maize fields, behind the girls’ building. As we started
the interviews, the incredible nature of this experience became very tangible.
Here we were sitting under mango trees in a small, forgotten place in a lonely
town in East Africa doing something that should be very normal in the legal
world–taking depositions–but how dramatically different this process was than
doing it in a different context.
Our assignment
was to take on two clients each, interview them, write defense briefs, and turn
them into their defense attorney, the DPP, and the judge. It was a
straightforward task, but by lunchtime I was thankful to have a moment to
collect my thoughts.
Doing this work
is largely a challenge because of the fine line one constantly walks between
compassion/advocacy for the client and a sense of professionalism and justice
for the act that he has committed. Most of these children are not innocent.
Some of them admitted to engaging in acts that would disgust most people.
So then, how do
you love these clients and ensure that justice is done on their behalf? It is a
question I grappled with in the back of my mind the remainder of the time I was
working on the project.
As I listened
to their stories, I began to understand the various, complex facets of each child’s
background. And it became easier to answer the question, “how could a child
ever commit such an act?” These children know that they will live with the
stigma of their criminal activity for a very long time. It will likely affect
their relationships with their family, community, their ability to attend
school, and the kind of employment opportunities that are made available to
them.
Early Wednesday
morning, as I was finishing the brief for my second client, I had a clear sense
that traveling to Masindi, taking a genuine interest in the boys’ cases, and
writing a defense brief on their behalf was my way of giving my two clients
loving justice.
When I asked
the boys at the end of the interview if they had any questions, they asked me
if I could get them released that day or the next. They had no concept of the
process of the justice system that they now found themselves a part of, an
attorney hadn’t met with them, and they were just waiting for someone to show
up, take an interest in their case, and DO something.
Our work at
Ihungu didn’t save anyone’s life or change the world, but it did show a couple
of boys what real love looks like. On Monday, 20 muzungus from America showed
up, sat under mango trees, and asked them to reveal the dark story of their
past–that seems crazy. But what’s even crazier is that on Wednesday afternoon,
those same muzungus showed up with briefs written in their defense, bags of
school supplies and hygiene products, and played a football (soccer) game with
them. That kind of love can only be motivated by Christ.
Vulnerability
met by Christ’s love runs to the person with aid, compassion, and redemptive
grace.
- Abigail Skeans, 7/3/12
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