We hosted two coworkers from IJM HQ and the uber-talented photojournalist Sean Sheridan on their trip through IJM’s African field offices. Sheridan is behind the beautiful short film Ray of Hope highlighting IJM’s crucial work in India, and I was thrilled to watch him work in Uganda.

Over four days, we drove all over our local project area, capturing the sights that would best explain the context for IJM’s property grabbing casework. It felt a little like being back in my college news station (number one college newscast in the country, Phoenix14 News. Holler.), but infinitely more exotic.

During the week, we interviewed members of our team from each department – lawyers, social workers and structural transformation staff – to talk about the issue of property grabbing and how IJM intervenes in violent injustice. I’m never more proud of this work than hearing it explained passionately by the Ugandans pouring themselves into it each day.

On Friday and Saturday, I took the team to visit two clients in their restored homes. These widows shared their stories bravely and confidently and left us tearfully grateful as we left each day. (Seriously, not a dry eye in the house.) With stunning landscapes and highly entertaining children in tow, the shoot probably couldn’t have been more perfect.

The whole process of hosting and helping coordinate this film team left me far more emotional than I’d care to admit. These are the stories of justice I’ve been yearning to share for two years. I know these widows well; I know their children, their struggles, and their successes. Now, their stories will be shared more widely and more beautifully than I ever could and I can’t wait to see the response. The whole shoot reminded me how gifted I’ve been to see these stories firsthand and how painful it will be to leave them in July.

I’ve no idea when the final products will be ready, but I will certainly post them here if I can. You won’t want to miss them!

In our legal education workshops, men and women are shocked to hear the law may not protect their informal marriage, so we spend lots of time explaining how and why people should make things legal. Our Church and Community Relations Coordinator Josh has done a fantastic job mobilizing pastors to do their part to protect couples they know, often in the form of a mass wedding.

Here’s the story of four couples who took that unconventional leap for love:

MUKONO, UGANDA – Rebecca’s wedding day is one like many woman dream of: beautiful flowers, a packed church and a stunning white dress. This bride is nearly 70, but sits regally in her finery like a woman half her age.

In fact, just two seats down, there is a woman half her age in another white dress. And two more next to her. There are four veils, four bouquets and four grooms smiling by their sides. The four couples stand ready to formalize their marriages all at the same time.

Their ceremony is surely unconventional, and it is more than just a declaration of love for these participants. In Uganda, informal marriages are common and recognized by the community – but without formal documentation, the marriage may not be recognized by the law. 

If the marriage is not legally recognized, opportunistic relatives and others can throw a widow from her home after the death of her husband, claiming she has no legal right to stay.  And when she tries to appeal to local authorities for help, they will likely turn her away with the same excuse: without a marriage certificate, there is no legal proof of the marriage, and therefore, no legal proof of the widow’s right to her own home and livelihood.

To counteract this risk, IJM Kampala Church and Community Relations team works with churches throughout Mukono district to encourage legal, formalized marriages as a first defense against property grabbing. Churches that partner with IJM are tasked with organizing mass weddings like this one to give their congregants an opportunity to legalize their marriage without the full burden of funding their own ceremony.

Take Rebecca and her husband Kintu, sitting in the front row of this packed little church. They have lived together for 50 years and have raised nine children. Neighbors would call them husband and wife, but the courts, unfortunately, would not.

Uganda identifies three types of legal marriages (religious, civil and customary), but requires certain criteria for these ceremonies to be officially recognized by the state. Unlike other countries, no common law marriage system exists to ratify other unofficial unions. Many of the rural poor – and even many religious leaders – are unaware of the criteria for formal unions and therefore do not realize that they are unprotected.

 The consequences are dire: “When one of them passes away,” explains Joshua Niyo, IJM Kampala Church and Community Relations Coordinator, “the surviving partner would not benefit from any part of the property they had a great hand in accumulating.”  Losing one’s own home after a spouse’s death would be traumatic for anyone, but for the very poor the risks are even higher. Without their land, there is nowhere to grow food; without a reserve of savings, there is no way to afford shelter or even the most basic of necessities.

 “Previously the Church would sit back and wait for people, hoping they would come forth and put things right,” explains Provost John Ssebudde, the reverend who conducted the ceremony. He continues, “Now, the Church is going out to prompt them to come and sort out this aspect of their lives.”

IJM’s Niyo adds, “It’s good to see that even the church leaders are aware of the need to switch to an active and intentional participation in the justice cause.”

Rebecca’s wedding ceremony was the first to arise from the partnership between IJM and her pastor. Taking this step at her age will likely inspire many other couples at her church; the reverend has already encouraged other couples to take these same steps and will conduct more mass weddings in the future.

Within the day’s ceremony, the four couples exchange vows, pray and process down the center aisle. Four sets of bridesmaids. Four couples taking turns smiling for the photographer on the front steps. Four knives to cut the cake at the reception.

And four official marriage certificates, witnessed by a joyful crowd, that will protect the families and their homes for years to come.

As I’ve been processing through all the work and pressure ahead, a blog post from another IJM fellow in India crept into my Google Reader and has stayed bookmarked for over a month. In her post, she looks at an excerpt from Martin Luther King Jr’s epic “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech and his take on the story of the Good Samaritan along the Jericho Road. Please, go read her writing or the speech in full. It’s incredible.

What really stood out to me was a second excerpt from a conversation MLK Jr had with an American ambassador after the speech. He had become increasingly identified with the Good Samaritan, and for good reason. But in this chat, he flipped my perspective on the whole story:

Dr. King told Andrew Young then, “….Andy, I think the Good Samaritan is a great individual. I of course, like and respect the Good Samaritan….but I don’t want to be a Good Samaritan.”

Dr. King continued, “…you see Andy, I am tired of picking up people along the Jericho Road. I am tired of seeing people battered and bruised and bloody, injured and jumped on, along the Jericho Roads of life. This road is dangerous. I don’t want to pick up anyone else, along this Jericho Road; I want to fix… the Jericho Road. I want to pave the Jericho Road, add street lights to the Jericho Road; make the Jericho Road safe (for passage) by everybody….”

I used this passage when I lead our office’s morning devotion last Friday, hoping to encourage our staff for the monumental work ahead. As I read that section out loud, I couldn’t help but choking up. IJM’s efforts in Uganda take the Good Samaritan story from both sides. We’re doing the immediate, compassionate care Jesus highlights as the Samaritan’s strength (scripture here). And we’re doing it well: hundreds of individual clients restored to astounding hope from heartbreaking injustice.

And now, we’re striving to fix the Jericho Road itself. In Uganda, that means empowering local leaders to help widows and orphans under threat. It means improving the systems that protect and guide these vulnerable poor. It also means changing the culture of abuse in these communities so that we don’t need to pick anyone else up off that dangerous Jericho Road.

This work will be exceptionally difficult and surely frustrating – these planning stages have been a tax on all of us – but the payoff will be so great: no more orphans tricked out of their inheritance; no more widows thrown from their homes. All of my stresses and fears are petty against that crucial vision.

In this same speech, MLK Jr. says, “Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be.”

This great promise of hard work will get me through the next two months. I am such a tiny piece of the plan, but it feels incredibly important. So please keep praying for me and my coworkers as we push through these busy times. I’m taking these great words to heart in hopes that, someday down the road, Uganda will become what it ought to be.

I made the trek this time to see Jess and the girls open the new Sunrise Beauty Parlor, a small business that will give the ladies income and a chance to show off the skills training they gained from Kwagala’s mentors. Within two minutes of my arrival, I was thrown into a salon chair so an eager stylist could comb out my wild boda hair and style me. Not sure many Ugandan ladies are used to working with short white-guy hair, but she did her best.

The whole grand opening was a huge celebration – music on loud speakers, streamers, throngs of dancing kids and one huge inflatable gorilla (courtesy of our friend Tyler at Inflate Africa). Beautiful weather and smiles made it an awesome way to spend a Saturday and I’m so glad Jess invited me to take part!

Check out more about Kwagala Project and ways you can support them on their Facebook page.

After nearly two years living in Uganda, I expect myself to be pretty savvy about local culture. I’ve been around the block. I know what’s up. But sometime’s I’m hilariously wrong. I expected my coworker’s baby’s baptism to take two hours, but naturally it took closer to 12.

Stephen is one of our brilliant drivers, and bestowed me a Ugandan name soon after I arrived in country. We now share the name Mutebi (meaning one who will not give up in a struggle), with Stephen as the older twin “Wasswa” and myself as the younger “Kato.” Attending his baby daughter’s baptism was a great excuse to meet our larger family and get to know my new clan even more.

We set off around seven Sunday morning, me toting my camera (ever the staff photographer) and the other fellows balancing cakes. We drove deeper and deeper into his home village, greeted his assembled family, and sipped sweet Ugandan tea to warm our bones before church.

Growing up in the Anglican church, I knew what to expect; heck, I know most of the liturgy by heart. But an Anglican church in Uganda can be very different. Speeches from all the family members, song presentations, full communion and multiple little baby baptisms. Each family member took their time to wish the newly-baptised well and to extol the virtues of this gathering. Yes, it was extensive, but it was also very sweet.

The other fellows and I mostly just sat politely and looked confused.

From the actual church service, we took a few pics out front then walked back to the house for a full African lunch, including luwombo - chicken and veggies steamed in banana leaves. (So scrummy.) After lunch, we sat under a white tent on the lawn for a few more speeches, a time of prayer, and more song performances. We obviously stood out, but it was so awesome to be welcomed warmly into this family and to celebrate our newest member, Maggie.

The afternoon rolled along and it was just after 5 pm by the time the program finished. We loaded up the car again, bounced down the village roads, and I passed out all the way back to Kampala. Twelve hours is pretty epic for a baptism, but a pretty cool way to invest in our Ugandan friends and family. Looking forward to more over the next few months!

My end-date looms in July, but by no means have I checked out; I haven’t been able to. Life here is crazy full and every moment has a demand upon it. I’m thankful for that. Actually leaving Uganda in a few months will physically hurt, but I took a bit of comfort reading this passage from Donald Miller’s Through Painted Deserts.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God.

We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

But then her story turns, the injustice averted, and she ends triumphant, laughing and giggling at the new life she’s been given. I’ve heard her tell this story several times over the last two years, but each time I crumble.

On Friday, I had the pleasure of joining a focus group of IJM clients living with HIV as they shared their stories of property grabbing with visiting researchers from International Center for Research on Women (ICRW). Two young widows and one married couple explained how the AIDS-related death of a husband or father left them grieving and vulnerable to callous family members bent on stealing their land.

With the fear of homelessness consuming them, there was no time for ARV medication, regular treatment, or providing for the children. Each life nearly fell apart until IJM’s legal intervention provided rescue and hope at the most crucial time. Now, they are supported by an incredible social work team and partner organizations who have restored them to health and security.

The transformations are unbelievable. A woman whose advanced AIDS had left her immobile now proudly describes the two plots of land she bought and her burgeoning coffee business. She acts in a local HIV-awareness drama troupe and wants to write a play for IJM outreach. The young mother, who walked 25 miles each morning seeking help from the authorities, invites us to see her recently completed new home. The couple looks proudly around the room in which we’re seated, thrilled that they could build this house with IJM’s help.

ICRW’s research will publish sometime in June, around when I’ll finish my post here in Uganda. More than likely, I will not see these widows again or amuse them with my broken Luganda and ever-present camera. I feel so honored to have been trusted with this part of their lives, to acknowledge the dark pasts and bright futures these women know. I sit amazed that our lives are so different, but blessed that we got to meet anyway. After Uganda, I don’t know how or when this feeling will ever be recreated, but I’m clinging to it for now and looking ahead for more to come.

Read Claire’s story by clicking the photo above.

Zion’s Pastor David will host justice-themed events each of the next eight days, including legal education programs and will-writing clinics. Each event will expand his community’s understanding of the biblical call for justice and the practical ways they can protect themselves. It’s a great program and the pastor looks poised to pull it off well.

Our Church and Community Relations CoordinatorJosh delivered the kick-off sermon about God’s passion for justice. I observed from the back and from behind a camera lens, as is my job, but felt really honored to be present. The congregation hung on his every word and clapped at all the highlights.

After the service, these kids adopted me and led our group all around their playground. A pretty impressive hurdles competition ensued.

I went to Zion again on Wednesday and will return on Saturday. I’m really excited to see how this congregation responds to these justice messages and how they commit to protecting their community. I’ll share the full story next week.

“If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies; succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway. If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway… You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; it was never between you and them anyway.”

Mother Teresa