Memoirs de Kindu

Many thanks for your encouraging emails and Ramadan Mubarak to all of you! Following my last post, I wanted to write to you about my experiences in Kindu, since the greater part of my week in Eastern Congo was spent working in Kindu's justice system.

Kindu, located in the province of Mnaiema, is just an hour from Goma. Our little UN plane gives me a breath-taking aerial view of lake Kivu and lake Tanganyika, which both flow into the meandering expanse that is the Congo River. Dense green trees and grandeur mountains overlook these grand expanses of blue-grey water and as our plane circles, I am looking at one of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen. Except the painting is real and we're about to land in Kindu! For me this trip can only be described as a dream come true and I am blessed to be able to share it with two special coworkers, without whom this story would be incomplete. If I had to choose two people to work with in Eastern Congo, it would be these two, Alhamdudillah. A, my supervisor, is serious, but uncannily witty at the same time. I'm normally laughing so hard at his jokes, that I fail to fully notice that our "hotel" in Kindu has no electricity (only a generator that needs gas to be fueled), mosquitoes everywhere, and buckets filled with cold water! D is like the Ya Ya (big sister) I've never had. She's a lawyer who commands respect when she walks into a room and her knowledge of the Congolese political and judicial context is a priceless asset for our work here.

We begin by visiting Kindu's Palais de Justice, that houses the Tribunal de Grand Instance (TGI) and the Cour d'Appel. It is a large, beige building, that's old but sturdy. Upon entering, I realize, much to my surprise, that the Palais also has no electricity and very little furniture. Stacks of cases tied together lay on the ground and I can't seem to figure out how they are classified or how to identify the cases I need to follow up on. But with the help of the greffiers (court secretaries), we get started even though progress is slow.

As we stand outside after our data collection, I notice an old, brown, wooden door, which apparently leads to a room. It is locked, so I can't see inside, but it is a dark, dismal looking place, with no source of natural light, except the less than an inch between the door and the ground. I dread to think that someone could be inside that room, but I see two Congolese policemen guarding the door, so I walk over to find out more. A, D, and the Presidents, have apparently seen this many times before, so they pay me no heed as they continue their discussion. I ask the policemen to open the door, and inside I see a young man about my age. Apparently this is an "amigo" where prisoners are detained until their case is heard. "Amigo" in Spanish means friend, so I have no idea why it has this name. Suffice is to say, this amigo is despicable, has a dreadful smell and is so small that I would hate to spend any time in there. I told the policemen that this man had rights and that they should let him stand in the light, with the cuffs on if need be. Since we were with the Presidents of the Court at the time, the policemen agreed and took the man out (at least for the remainder of my time there). It's been more than a week since this experience, but the memory of that place is still etched in my mind. According to A, though, this amigo, was pretty good, by Congolese standards. I was horrified. If there was a moment in my life I wanted to be a lawyer, it was that one. But I soon realized that being a lawyer would not be enough. So many factors were responsible for what I had just seen; the political powers that be, the gross poverty, inadequate infrastructure, inefficiencies in the court system; it would take not only legislative change, but also political and economic change to make a real difference.

The good news, though, is that my team and I are here to work on judicial problems, including this one. Our main goal is to host a workshop for the Prosecutor General, Presidents, Magistrates and Greffiers on delay reduction. If we are successful, detainees like the young man I met, would stay in the amigos for a shorter number of days. We will even try to bring mediation (if approved) and mobile courts to prisons and amigos. This way, magistrates can give verdicts more quickly. It doesn't quite solve the problem, but we are hopeful it can make a small difference and gradually, even a lasting positive change. After a few rounds of negotiations, the judicial actors agree to set up a Delay Reduction Committee to address inefficiencies. Our local team based in Kindu will follow up accordingly, and hopefully there will be some good news to share.

My memoirs of Kindu, however, should end on a positive note because as I've said before the spirit of the Congolese people is absolutely beautiful:) My favorite memory from Kindu happened on our first morning just across from the hotel. Breakfast wasn't ready, so I decided to take a little stroll. On my right hand side, I noticed a group of women and girls filling containers at a well and after a moment of wondering whether I should say hi, I decided to go for it. They seemed happy to see me and greeted me in Swahili (!) which they assumed I spoke since I look East African (I had no idea, but I find this thought absolutely wonderful!!!). To be honest, though, I don't know a single word in Swahili, so I quickly switched to French. I have a favor to ask of them... since I want to learn the art of balancing something on my head (yes, exactly as you see on TV). Since I'm a novice, I use one hand and sometimes both, but I practise, while the women smile and laugh at me:) Before I know it I'm chatting with them about their lives and my work in justice that brings me to Kindu. It is a wonderful experience and I would love to spend the entire day listening to them. If only I could figure out how to communicate and share knowledge as gracefully as these Congolese women, I just might have an impact:)