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The Best Journeys Are Not Planned, But Discovered

By Elias D León

It has been several weeks since I returned from Costa Rica where I interned at the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. Shortly after returning to Montreal, I encountered way too many memories floating around my brain, which developed one by one thanks to my 12 weeks once in a lifetime experience at what, I call, one of the most exotic and colourful places on Earth. In this first blog post, I will offer some of my reflections and impressions about my time in Costa Rica representing McGill Law at the OAS’ principal judiciary organ that promotes and protects human rights across the Americas.

Andrea Buitrago & Elias León, McGill Law Representatives at the Inter-American Court of Human Rights

Latin America’s Flavours: Returning to my Roots

On May 3, 2017 at 6:58 am I woke up in my flat in Montreal thrilled to embark on a journey that I thought would bring me back to the continent of my origin: Latin America. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was nervous, scared, anxious, or just happy. Perhaps a combination of all. Since the political turmoil in Venezuela got out of control, I have not been back to Latin America. I knew Costa Rica would be very different from Venezuela, in terms of political stability, proper access to food, health-care, water (from what my folks would call ‘luxurious goods’ currently non-existent in my homeland, regrettably). However, I was very curious to land in the International Airport of San Jose to discover how similar this small country in Central America would remind me of Venezuela in a particular way. I don’t mean returning to my “real” roots, rather I mean returning to the continent that brings together rich cultures, tasteful gastronomy, vibrant social life, and a devotion for hard work in trying to become a better person every day – that’s what made me think this opportunity was all about: returning to a country that would make me feel, more less, back in Venezuela since, as of today, I cannot seem to be able to do this.

As soon as I arrived in Costa Rica’s capital, my good friend Natalia and her friends picked me at the airport and drove to her house to meet with her family. Immediately, I felt just as if a friend from childhood picked me up in Caracas to then have a home-cooked meal. As the days progressed, I was lucky enough to meet several locals who welcomed me with wide-open arms and invited me to countless journeys with the objective to discover Costa Rica’s diverse biodiversity, the “pura vida” style, appreciation for environmental stewardship, and most importantly, the beginning of new friendships, which is how they take pride in being good Costa Ricans hosts. Interestingly, I also met several Venezuelans. In fact, there were so many Venezuelans who have recently arrived in Costa Rica as political refugees that, overtime, it really felt like returning to my roots (and this time I mean it literally). However, I have to admit, I was sad (and possibly upset) to learn from each Venezuelan’s story about how they had to leave everything behind overnight – including their families, loved ones, professional careers such as practices in medicine, the law, business, and engineering. They all seemed to have to start from zero and worked as Uber drivers or blue collar positions in order to make just enough Colones (Costa Rican currency) to eat, pay a shared room in a flat, and save enough so they could send money for their families who could not escape the current dictatorship Venezuela is facing.

My 89 days in Latin America were extraordinary. These twelve weeks allowed me to reflect upon and cherish all opportunities Canada had given me until now, but this visit also made me feel proud to belong to a continent with such a unique culture. People there are hard-workers, warm, loud, funny, great sense of humour, love to go dancing or to share “arepas” or “gallo pinto” during a lunch break, devoted to faithful groups, constantly staying active through physical activities, and so much more. I am lucky to know we, as Canadians, can do all of these things in Canada as well, but there was something unique about being able to do all of these things over again in Latin America, just like I used to during the first fifteen years of my life in Venezuela. 

Oath of Confidentiality Official Ceremony with 2017 Interns & Visiting Professionals

The Inter-American Court: From exchanges of Conversations with Human Rights Violation Victims to the President of the Court

One of the biggest assets of working at the Inter-American Court of Human Rights is definitely the people you meet. As for all of us in the legal profession is social, the nature of the work is grounded on a wide range of different personalities whom you work with and interact at many different levels. Yes, you certainly get to work with some of the brightest and most respected human rights jurists across the Americas. But you also get meet, talk, interview, and listen to the very people who travel hundreds of miles to a architecturally colonial style white house in the historical neighbourhood of Los Yoses, which serves as the premises of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. For confidentiality constraints, I cannot disclose details, but what I can share is my reflection on how powerful the words I exchanged with some of the victims of human rights (who were going to testify during court hearings in the cases I was assigned to) were and how much they motivated me to do my work better in my office at the Court. Most of the time I would be speechless to learn from what they had to say. Other times, I felt powerless by not being able to ‘do more’ or ‘try to assure them that everything was going to be okay’ – when in fact I knew that some of these victims had to return to their home countries, the next day of the court hearing date, where they would sometimes be prosecuted either by volatile governments or organized-crime groups.

Most of the time however, I learned a great deal from the lawyers in my team, fellow law clerks, and most certainly, the lawyers whom I shared my office with. The great advantage about working in such an active and collegial working environment is that each lawyer was from a different country, whose parcour was significantly unique from one another. I remember nourishing excellent friendships with lawyers from Argentina, Venezuela, Colombia, Chile, Mexico, Peru, Cuba, Uruguay, and even Germany. Some of them have done human rights law for 20+ years while others were corporate lawyers who decided to make the transition from business law to human rights law in their mid-level careers. I learned something valuable and unique from each person. At work, we would engage in very transsystemic dialogues doing comparative legal analysis on contemporary issues as climate change, refugees asylum, international security, and same-sex marriage. On a more inter-personal level, we would discover each other’s national gastronomy, customs, traditions, and culture. This special aspect of the Inter-American Court constantly made me think of the fond memories I have working in diplomacy being posted in few different cities. I just think it’s the perfect work environment for any McGill Law student seeking to discover new cultures and ontologies.

 

Advisory Opinion on Gender Identity and Patrimonial rights derived from relationships between persons of the same sex. For more information, please consult: http://www.corteidh.or.cr/docs/solicitudoc/solicitud_17_05_16_eng.pdf

Meeting the Honourable Roberto Caldas, President of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights

Pura Vida: Beyond a Destination to Gain a Superb Summer Legal Experience

So you may be thinking what Pura Vida is. Well, it’s a phrase that essentially encompasses how “ticos” look at the world. It’s how they look at life-work balance, social relationships, family, communication, and frankly anything. Instead of saying buenos días Costa Ricans enthusiastically say “Hey, PURA VIDA!” Instead of apologizing for not submitting a work deadline on time, they say “pura vida.” Instead of responding “I’m good, how are you?” they say “Pura Vida!” This was certainly a highlight in my journey in Costa Rica – and was consistently a joke we had between everyone who wasn’t a Tico in the Court. The point is that Costa Rica is probably one of the countries with the happiest people and as a McGill Law student who had just finished 1L, I certainly took the opportunity to learn from this ‘pura vida’ way of life to think more about work-life balance. I learned that it is important to really make the effort in being patient when something does not happen as quickly – or as efficient in North American parlance. It’s important to take this type of 12-week culturally enriching experience to step outside of our comfort zone or incredibly busy lifestyles to meditate, do yoga, breath fresh air, take different types of risks – less so professionally inclined and more so learning a different sport like surfing. All to say that the “pura vida” outlook on life, which every Costa Rican seem to experience on a daily basis – and indeed, every staff attorney or law clerk at the Inter-American Court – taught me that you experience the fabric of a place by immersing yourself in the flavours, sites, and sounds of a destination. In my opinion, this is when you have fully experienced Costa Rica and the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, the way it’s meant to be. Different for everyone, but yet extraordinary for all.

Exploring the Volcano Arenal

Reflections on Human Rights Education

By Sara E.B. Pierre

One of the things I loved the most about working at the Institute for Human Rights and Development in Africa (IHRDA) was observing and participating in their capacity-building workshops. I am a big believer in education, and I think it is crucial when it comes to human rights work. IHRDA gives presentations and workshops as part of its education mandate. They also have a mandate to defend, which they do by advocating on behalf of victims of human rights abuses, and to inform, which they do by building a comprehensive database of African human rights legislation.

There is one phrase in particular that one of my supervisors said at a capacity-building workshop back in The Gambia which has stuck with me. In our Critical Engagements with Human Rights class, we have had many discussions about the tension and overlap between international, national and regional human rights norms. Are human rights a Western concept? The answer is no. The phrase I remember my supervisor saying was at a capacity-building workshop for police officers/prosecutors and social workers on harmful practices against girls and women. He said that harmful practices against women and girls are not part of African culture; “maybe it was a part of our culture 200 years ago, but if you practice FGM (female genital mutilation) or child marriage in Africa now, you are violating our culture.” I think he was trying to show how culture is fluid, and no one state has a monopoly on the concept of human rights. Yes, we may all have slight differences when it comes to writing laws, and this is a good thing. However, the bottom line is that human rights are universal rights, and nothing, not even claims of practicing one’s actual or alleged culture, should get in the way of that.

The capacity-building workshop was prepared by an NGO called Safe Hands for Girls, in collaboration with IHRDA. The theme of the two-day training was harmful practices against women and girls, and we focused on forced marriage, and especially female genital mutilation, or FGM. This last topic was especially difficult to hear about, as the first speaker went into the painful specifics of the operation, complete with real life images. There were no trigger warnings, but there was a moment of individual prayer before the workshop began. Besides talking about how painful the procedure is for infants, children and women, the speaker also explained that how it is done can lead to complications which affect the health and sometimes the life of the person being operated, especially when/if she becomes pregnant.

 

One of my supervisors at IHRDA spoke about women’s rights in The Gambia. He brought up an interesting point: how even though FGM has been outlawed in the country, and there is extensive knowledge that the practice is still widespread (76% of women in The Gambia have suffered through FGM), there have been no cases brought forward. When he brought up the question of how this can be, something interesting happened. A police officer said there have been no cases brought forward because they do not receive reports or complaints. However, a social worker replied that just the other day someone came to her with a report of FGM, and when they tried involving the local police, the police officer did not want to make an arrest for fear of being targeted by the community. I think this situation is all too prevalent and is very useful for showing the disconnect between the law and practice. To me, it shows that human rights work must be rooted in education, and must be contextual. A top-down approach does not work. If we truly want sustainable change, we must first change the attitudes of the perpetrators of the human rights abuses. In order to change peoples’ minds, we have to get to know them.

 

 

Looking back on my summer at Equitas

By: Nathalie Laflamme

The few months I worked as an Education Intern at Equitas went by in a flash. In some ways, the internship almost seemed too short, and yet, as I look back, I realize just how much work we were able to accomplish in such a short period of time during the three-week-long International Human Rights Training Program (IHRTP). I thought I could use this blog post to write a little more about exactly what my role was during my internship, and to give you a better idea of what it was like to be a part of the IHRTP.

Before the IHRTP

In the first month of my internship, I worked at the Equitas office, located right by McGill campus. All the interns – 2 Education Interns, 9 Coordination Interns, and 1 Communications Intern – shared one conference room. It goes without saying that we all got to know each other quite fast. The funky ice breakers (or “energizers,” as they are called at Equitas) we did every day after lunch definitely helped our friendships blossom. During this time, my main task was working on a lengthy and fascinating report, which compiled much of the information incoming participants included in their Pre-Training Assignments. Using this information, I was able to write a report which included sections such as most prominent human rights violations, separated by geographic location. While this was a lengthy, often quite technical task, I found myself completely engrossed by the information provided by participants. The 40-page report is one of the things I am most proud of accomplishing during my internship. I learned so much about different parts of the world I previously knew nothing about, and got to learn it directly from the mouths of experts—it was unlike any learning I had ever done before.

All the Equitas interns! Photo by Michael Cooper/Equitas.

This task also allowed me to learn so much about the participants before meeting them. Not only did I learn their names, but I also got to learn about their organizations, the projects closest to their hearts, and their reasons for wanting to take part in the IHRTP. This also turned the first week of the IHRTP into a fun mental puzzle for me—putting faces to names was a neat experience, to say the least!

During the IHRTP

I blinked, and then we were moving to John Abbott College. I must say that it is impossible to list all the tasks I completed during the IHRTP, as there was so many and they were often quite technical. The days were filled to the brim with task after task, making for a very interesting—and definitely never dull—work environment. My main tasks consisted of setting up rooms for plenary presentations and working with resource persons to make sure their presentations went smoothly. During the plenary sessions, the other Education Intern and I would take notes (one in French and the other in English) that we would later publish on the Equitas Community (a forum for IHRTP participants), with translated PowerPoint presentations and other relevant documents. We also worked closely with Facilitators—former IHRTP participants who lead the small group sessions that participants take part in during the day—to make sure they had all the materials they needed. This involved many last-minute runs to the store to buy markers and flip charts. We also did instantaneous translations during many events, which was so much harder than I thought it would be. Additionally, I ran evaluations at the end of every “stream,” which is what Equitas calls the chapters of the program. This involved many hours working with participants in the computer labs, where I assisted them to make sure they completed the surveys.

A photo of me taken for the 2017 IHRTP photo campaign. Photo by Gabrielle Vendette/Equitas.

If this does not seem like much, I can guarantee quite contrarily that the days were packed. At the end of every day, when the intern in charge of driving the van back to Montreal texted everyone saying they were leaving, I was always left scrambling, hoping I had one more hour to finish up. The pace was like nothing I’ve experienced before (and I have worked in very stressful work environments!), but I must say that it was a pace that made me more productive than ever.

The IHRTP allowed me to meet so many incredible, passionate human rights defenders. While I was introduced to the facilitators on the very first day of their orientation during a meeting, I met most participants during meals, or at IHRTP events, and even sometimes while playing soccer! My biggest regret is not spending more time getting to know them. Getting to meet all of these amazing people was by far the highlight of working at Equitas for me.

I also had the privilege of spending some time in the classrooms while assisting a participant living with a disability. This allowed me to see the participative approach Equitas uses in action while also getting an intimate look inside the program. The program does not use a “classic” teaching style where a teacher lectures the class. Instead, a facilitator and co-facilitator facilitate the activities in the classroom. Participation is crucial, as participants are the true experts. The program works so well because participants get to learn from one another. The small groups are also purposely diverse to create an interesting blend of ideas and experiences. Participants learn through various interactive techniques so getting bored is not an option—the schedule is packed with activities. While in the classroom, I got to see all of this in action, and I have to say that it had me questioning whether a similar system could somehow be integrated into the law school curriculum.

The next thing I knew, the departures weekend was among us and it was time to say goodbye. I volunteered to help drive participants back to the airport, which allowed me to spend a few more minutes with the them. I truly hope I will have the pleasure of seeing some of these amazing people again in the future.

After the IHRTP

Returning to the Equitas offices once the internship was completed felt very odd. It was almost like that feeling we got as children when returning home from sleep-away camp. We all missed the participants, and generally the lively atmosphere of the IHRTP. Still, I had a lot left to wrap up in a very short time, so those last few weeks with the interns, back in our old conference room, flew by too. During this time, I mainly finished translating and uploading documents to the Equitas Community.

Looking back

Working with Equitas this summer was an unforgettable experience. Never in my life have I been in such an action-packed, diverse, multi-lingual environment, and I doubt I ever will again. I went into my internship knowing very little about human rights education or its crucial role in the protection of human rights on a global scale, and I am so thankful for the opportunity to learn so much about it. This is a topic I plan to further delve into this semester with my research. And, who knows, maybe one day I will work with some of the amazing human rights defenders and educators I met at the IHRTP.

Here is a photo of all the participants, facilitators, co-facilitators, staff, interns and volunteers at the IHRTP. Photo by Michael Cooper/Equitas.

“What’s it like, up North?”

Jones Rebecca

Rebecca Jones

This post is a reflection of my own personal experiences and it is not my intention to make generalizations about life in the Yukon or in the North.

Before I left for my internship, I received a lot of unsolicited well-meaning advice about what Northerners were like, how expensive my groceries were going to be, and how to handle bear attacks. Luckily, I never had to figure out that last one (although I did have a few close encounters with large foxes). Thinking about the Yukon conjured images of Ted Harrison’s colourful and vibrant artwork[1], a few vague historical facts about the Gold Rush, and the line from Robert Service’s famous poem, The Cremation of Sam McGee: “There are strange things done in the midnight sun…”[2]. People’s reactions when they learned that I would be spending some time up North ranged from surprised and concerned to curious and confused. During my time in the Yukon, I was often asked by friends and family from back home: “So what’s it like, up North?”

I was excited to spend a summer in the Yukon; several years ago, I had travelled across the country for a Canada-wide art project without enough funding to make it to any of the Territories. I knew that the North was unique and that, as “southerners,” we are sometimes guilty of forgetting that it exists. I certainly do not remember learning much about the Yukon, other than a brief history of the Gold Rush, despite growing up in British Columbia.

So here are some of my personal observations during my summer in “the North.”

Interaction with wildlife is often a daily occurrence. The city of Whitehorse is small and the various subdivisions are surrounded by forest. A few steps in any direction will take you on a back-country trail or into the woods. Foxes are often seen roaming the city. There are stories of wolves chasing road cyclists and dog-scaring porcupines. Whitehorse residents are frequently reminded to bear-proof their garbage bins and refrain from leaving out “attractants”. The number of bears that conservation officers have killed this year alone is a stark reminder that this land is not ours and that we are the intruders disturbing the animals’ habitats.[3]

The Yukon River flowing through Miles Canyon.

Many locals that I met were very proud to call themselves “Northerners”. I learned that life up North can sometimes be very challenging and unforgiving due to extreme weather conditions, remoteness, and lack of resources. Early on in the summer, I arrived at the grocery store to discover empty shelves with no fresh produce and a simple note from the staff – it instructed customers to return in a few days because the produce truck had a flat tire and would not make its scheduled delivery time. Several locals explained to me that this was not an uncommon occurrence and that sometimes the trucks can’t make it in because the road is washed out due to weather. That being said, Whitehorse is one of the most Southern communities in the Yukon and quite easily accessible compared to fly-in communities in the Territory, such as Old Crow, where people who visit often bring fresh produce with them as gifts.

I experienced the infamous Northern hospitality from everyone I met – perhaps, due in part to the demands of life in the Yukon and in part to the nature of living in a small community. It started with my new roommate picking me up from the airport at 1:00 am. People were eager to show me around, lend me their outdoor gear, or share a meal. Everywhere I went I was made to feel welcome. During my first few weeks, I was quite taken aback at people’s generosity. I actually remember my big-city roots thinking that “there must be a catch.” After a few weeks, it became my new normal.

About 25% of the Yukon’s population is Indigenous.[4] The Gold Rush, the building of the Alaska Highway during World War II, and the residential school system have all permanently impacted these First Nations in various ways. The Yukon is unique in that the majority of it was never subject to Canadian government treaties until a Final Agreement was signed in 1990.[5] This lack of treaties allowed for Yukon First Nations to work with the Canadian government to negotiate land claims and self-government agreements. 11 out of the 14 First Nations in the Yukon have Self-Government Agreements which allow the First Nations to “make and enact laws in respect of their lands and citizens, to tax, to provide for municipal planning, and to manage or co-manage lands and resources”.[6] I spoke with a few First Nations people working in their Nations’ Justice Departments and they described their association with the territorial government as a “Nation-to-Nation” relationship. The oldest Self-Government Agreements have only been in effect since 1995 which means that devolution processes and capacity-building are still underway.

View from the top of the Venus Mines hike to explore an historic mining structure from an old silver mine.

I had the privilege of meeting with a member of the Kwanlin Dun First Nation Justice Department and she explained some of their current and long-term community justice initiatives, including the development of their own court system, child welfare programs, and community security officers. Throughout this conversation, I was reminded that it is often important for justice initiatives to have a local focus. Canada is hugely diverse in its geography, demography and histories. It is easy to imagine how certain legal instruments developed in other jurisdictions would have different impacts here and fail to take into consideration the distinctiveness of Yukon realities. In my previous blog post, I spoke about my experience at the Re-Visioning Justice conference which provided a forum for Yukoners to come together to discuss systemic discrimination and access to justice issues. These inter-disciplinary initiatives listen to and amplify community voices to promote local participation in forging solutions.

A conference for Yukon lawyers to explore the implementation of the Truth and Reconciliation Report’s Calls to Action in their law practice.

When locals would ask how long I was in the Yukon, they would chuckle at my response and reply, “That’s what I said 25 years ago!”. Perhaps they are right. There is something magical and captivating in the wild beauty of the Yukon. I hope that I am fortunate enough to return one day and eventually travel to other parts of the North.

At the top of Grey Mountain just outside of Whitehorse.

View of glaciers in Kluane National Park, one of the largest non-polar ice fields in the world.

Hiking in Tombstone Territorial Park.

[1] https://tedharrison.ca/

[2] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45081/the-cremation-of-sam-mcgee

[3] http://whitehorsestar.com/News/summer-of-2017-has-claimed-dozens-of-bears

[4] http://www.statcan.gc.ca/pub/89-656-x/89-656-x2016012-eng.htm

[5] https://cyfn.ca/agreements/umbrella-final-agreement/

[6] https://cyfn.ca/agreements/self-government-agreements/

the oppression tree

Early in the summer at CLD, I volunteered to write an open letter to the Minister of Public Works and Procurement regarding an “interim prohibitory order” (IPO) she had issued against James Sears, the editor-in-chief of a particularly abhorrent publication called “Your Ward News.” I would suggest you look up the publication (TW: anti-Semitism, racism misogyny, general white supremacy), but I don’t know if you want that in your search history.

The IPO, issued in 2016 and under review in 2017, prevents Sears from receiving or posting any mail. It was issued pursuant to s. 43(1) of the Canada Post Corporation Act, which allows the Minister to step in when they have reasonable grounds to believe that someone is using the postal service to commit a criminal offence. In Sears’ case, Minister Judy Foote’s office stated that it had reasonable grounds to believe that Sears was committing the criminal offences of defamatory libel and wilfully promoting hatred against an identifiable group under ss. 300 and 319(2) respectively of the Criminal Code. The Minister did not identify the specific articles or comments which she and her office considered to be libellous or to constitute hate speech.

When I first read about the IPO, my gut response was “Good. You go, Judy.”

I mean Sears is (in my unprofessional and unclinical opinion) a narcissist. And if not, he is definitely racist and definitely harbours some deeply entrenched and alarming beliefs about male superiority.

In addition to being the “editor-in-chief” of a publication I don’t even want to legitimize by characterizing as rag, he considers himself a professional pickup artist. He goes by the name “Dimitri the Lover” and runs “seduction workshops” through the “Toronto Real Men” club, which he refers to “the world’s FIRST and ONLY Seduction Lair” (emphasis in original).

James is also a former physician but was ultimately stripped of his medical licence in 1992 after a long history of sexual impropriety towards female patients. He, in fact, pled guilty to two counts of sexual assault, though those convictions were overturned and an acquittal entered on appeal.

Needless to say, I was not super comfortable with the idea of writing a letter in support of this dude. So why did I volunteer to write it? Because it’s good practice. By virtue of the nature of their role, lawyers are bound to represent interests that are not their own and argue the law even when they don’t agree with it. This is particularly true of defenders of civil liberties. I’m sure Sukanya Pillay, Executive Director of the Canadian Civil Liberties Association, has no particular desire to be associated with the views of James Sears, but she has spoken up on his behalf nonetheless. As a student particularly interested in criminal law, I figured I’d better get used to navigating these situations

It was a great learning opportunity. I became familiar with the arguments commonly used in support of “free speech”. One argument that came up time and again was that “people don’t have a right not to be offended”. I have a hard time with this one. Such an argument denies that there are real issues and rights at stake. Further, this argument too often betrays the privilege of the speaker and their failure to understand the self-sustaining character of systems of oppression. The dissemination of prejudicial speech is harmful not because it’s offensive, but because it legitimizes and reinforces the systems of oppression at the root of social inequality and discrimination.

I recently participated in an anti-oppression workshop in which the facilitators analogized various systems of oppression to a tree. The objective of the exercise was to impress upon participants the complexity and rootedness of these systems. I believe (or suspect) that the exercise was inspired by ‘The Tree of Patriarchy’ metaphor, which appeared in sociologist Allan G Johnson “The Gender Knot”. In our adaptation, the leaves of the tree represented discrete moments of discrimination – manifestations of prejudice. The branches were the beliefs and values that underlie these moments and which are in turn supported by institutions, represented by the trunk. Far more than just words, hateful or discriminatory speech is an expression of the values and ideas reflected in our institutions. Ultimately, systems of oppression are rooted in deeply entrenched normative theories and principles about human nature and the operation of society. In the same way that a tree is fed by both its roots and leaves, systems of oppression are self-sustaining

But what happens when we strip away the branches – when we censor harmful expression? Would it just create a “PC culture” – as the facilitator referred to it – or would it have an impact in creating a more just society?

…sounds like a term paper.

On Mountains, Skies, and Llamas

by Jessye Kilburn

Suddenly it’s fall, my internship is over, and next year’s interns will soon be perusing this blog as they work on their applications. I didn’t want my last blog post to give prospective interns the impression that all I did was sit around and think angsty thoughts about the ocean! So here is a little glimpse into life outside the office.

South Table Mountain Park is accessible by bus/foot from Denver, with beautiful views into the Rockies.

Chattauqua Park is full of trails accessible by bus from Boulder.

The Royal Arch in Chattauqua: a steep but worthwhile climb!

To really get up into the Rockies, you have to go by car (but it’s so worth it!)


Yes, these are llamas. And, yes, I got to go hiking with them (!)

Colorado’s sunsets are amazing, and I was a little obsessed.

Red Rocks amphitheatre is an outdoor concert venue carved out of Colorado’s red rock formations. Seeing the symphony play Holst’s “Planets” and Mozart’s “Jupiter” out under the stars was a huge highlight.

Even within the big city of Denver there are pretty little lakes: this was my favourite running route.

So, yes, even this BC girl was pretty impressed with Colorado’s natural beauty: combined with fascinating internship work, it made for an incredible summer.

Science Fiction and Empiricism: On Imagining and Measuring a Better Future

Greenberg AnastasiaBy Anastasia Greenberg

Hanging unassumingly on a wall in the hallway that divides the Research Department from several other departments at One Earth Future Foundation (OEF) is a framed version of OEF’s Institutional Logic Framework: a manifesto followed by a sort of “ten commandments” listing the organization’s core values. This mundane framed text is sandwiched between walls that are adorned with large colourful emotionally provoking photographs taken across several countries in sub-Saharan Africa – quite the juxtaposition. While OEF staff seem to pay little attention to this moral code passed down to them by the Board of Directors; the upper management, on the other hand, seem to taut these phrases in an almost cult-like fashion at every staff meeting. One of these “commandments” – my personal favourite – is: “we are relentlessly empirical”. OEF clearly has a penchant for hard data and quantitative research methodology, which is why I was surprised to walk into a development talk one day at the office led by a PhD graduate who has decided to venture outside the academic lines by pursuing science fiction.

The project that was being presented, led by Dr. Andrew Merrie, is called Radical Ocean Futures. Using a method called “science fiction prototyping”, Merrie wrote a compilation of four science fiction stories to depict four different future scenarios for the world’s oceans, integrating some predictions loosely based on scientific research on ocean health. Two of the scenarios were dystopian. In one, ocean life has died off and humanity with it, leaving behind a sole surviving fisherman. In the other, a complete industrialization of the oceans has taken place. The last two scenarios are more utopian: humanity survives sea level rise by living in underwater cities, and the most favorable scenario is that in which humanity succeeds at a sustainable ocean future, featuring robots responsible for cleaning and upkeep of ocean health. What’s more, is that Merrie also commissioned a high-profile concept artist, Simon Stålenhag, to create incredible digital artworks to represent each sci-fi scenario.

While I found all of this engaging and entertaining from an artistic point of view, what really struck me was the audience that Merrie was able to target outside of sci-fi nerds. News outlets picked up the story immediately. Most impressively, Merrie was recently invited to present this work at the United Nations Ocean Conference, with Stålenhag’s artwork displayed throughout the event. Academics from the environmental sciences have been warning us about the grave realities of climate change effects on the oceans for decades, but apparently science fiction and art were the channels that could get policymakers to tune in.

This got me thinking about the word “impact”: what does it mean and how do we measure it? In a world that is increasingly data-driven, OEF is feeling that thirst for empiricism. While the Radical Oceans project is only loosely based on actual empirical information, OEF was drawn by the perceived “impact” that it was having on their stakeholders of interest. OEF has been undergoing some major changes to their organizational structure and mandate, and a major part of this change will be to solidify a way to measure the organization’s social impact.

Coming from an academic background, the word “impact” and its measurement has always meant something very specific to me. A scientist’s “impact” is measured by a very precise formula that takes into account the number of publications that one has and the number of citations that each of those publications has accumulated. This essentially measures how influential one’s work has been on the scientific community, but not necessarily beyond those academic boarders.

My connotation of the word “impact” has really started to evolve. OEF is a multifaceted NGO that aims not only to have others cite its research and policy reports but to actively facilitate peaceful conflict resolution in fragile states. Impact in this realm is really hard to measure. However, OEF is also “relentlessly empirical” and it is difficult to pride themselves in this regard without any tangible measure of their impact on peace.

Peace is not only difficult to measure, but even to define. At staff meetings, conversations constantly revolve around concepts of “negative” versus “positive” peace and which of these OEF should concern themselves with. Negative peace is the absence of violence and war. This is relatively simple to measure, the so called “body bag count” will do. The Global Peace Index (GPI) is a sophisticated attempt by the Institute for Economics and Peace to measure such negative peace. The GPI gives a peacefulness score for every country based on several factors including: numbers of internal and international violent conflicts that a country is involved in, levels of violent crime, political instability, as well as military expenditure. The GPI is updated on an annual basis so that progress over time can be assessed. Of course, even measuring such negative peace statistics accurately, as the GPI tries to do, is just the first step in figuring out whether a small organization like OEF has any causal role in the measured progress towards peace.

Positive peace on the other hand, deals with structural violence, issues such as: poverty, discrimination, inequality and other social injustices. Negative peace is reactive, while positive peace is proactive. While even measures of negative peace can be highly contentious, positive peace is substantially more difficult to define and measure. Nevertheless, the Positive Peace Index tries to do just that by considering the effectiveness of government institutions, levels of corruption, freedom of information, and so forth.

Although such complex information is aggregated into numbers, the data tells a rich story much like those sci-fi scenarios. These data come with their own artistic depictions, albeit less awe-inspiring. The picture below shows that the PPI has been improving on average across countries for the past decade, with about three quarters of all countries showing an improvement in positive peace. These data seem to point towards the possibility of a more utopian future scenario. Quantifying peace in such a manner has always been politically controversial, especially when dealing with governments of countries who score low on these “Western” standards of peace. This is a legitimate criticism given how many facets of life an index such as the PPI will inevitably omit.

Given that peace is such an elusive concept, is it futile to attempt to measure it and the social impact of NGOs like OEF? As Steve Killelea, founder of the Institute for Economics and Peace, has said: “If you don’t measure peace, how can you understand it?“. Thinking back to science fiction prototyping in the context of the future of peacebuilding, I can imagine a dystopian scenario in which we have given up hope on measuring peace and the world has spiraled into perpetual violent conflict. On the utopian end of the spectrum, a meaningful way of measuring social impact and peace has become a reality. In this future, we can even diagnose early signs of political conflict and initiate the right preventive measures – a “positive peace” approach. To get to this utopia, we need an empirical and critical approach that challenges the meaning of impact, peace, and a deep understanding of the data that shed light on these issues. And maybe a little art can help too.

 

The Story and Relevance of Christine de Pizan (1364 – 1430)

By Monika Erzsebet Berenyi

The narratives, movements, texts and happening of the past draw us inextricably into the present, and it would be careless and limiting to conceptualize the parameters and content of the women, peace, and security agenda, so expressed by UN Security Council Resolution 1325, without revisiting the lengthy history of its progenitors. The efforts, achievements and struggles of those who fought for and forged the very ideas upon which the contemporary policy stands, continue to provide us with guidance, inspiration, and reference points – which mirror the path of our past whilst reflecting the present.

In this context, I return to the medieval era – France to be precise, and draw from the story of Christine de Pizan – a writer, historiographer, and activist, whose cunning wisdom, words and legacy – cumulatively, a representative of a watershed moment in women’s history. For those unfamiliar with de Pizan, her writings were instrumental for enabling the concept of equality for women in medieval France, and her works are considered to be among the earliest feminist writings, inclusive of novels, biography, autobiography, along with political, literary and social commentary. Here it is also important to highlight that the work of de Pizan should also be appreciated within a spectrum of other great medieval women writers, activists, warriors, and leaders – whose courage and work continues to anchor many a discussion regarding women’s rights and equality. I recount the words and actions of Christine de Pizan, thus, in company with the likes of Marie de France, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Margery Kemp, Trota of Salerno, Hildegarde of Bingen, the women troubadours, and many others. The imperative importance of and appreciation for the stories, actions and creativity of medieval women are a source of truth and inspiration to me, – which have also come to illuminate my “contemporary” workspace at Our Secure Future (One Earth Future Foundation). Encouraged to transcend space and time, from the happenings and context of medieval France to the present foothills of Boulder County, I count myself fortunate to be surrounded by individuals, who bear a consciousness and appreciation for the past. For, as history continues to show, it is our predecessors who set the tone for bringing life, energy and movement into the formation and dissemination of new policies. Thus, at Our Secure Future, we remember the story of Christine de Pizan while we face and grapple with the continued challenges of achieving equality and peacebuilding for a better future.

Christine de Pizan was born in Venice and was raised at court in Paris. In 1380, the young Christine de Pizan married Etienne du Castel – a nobleman from Picardy, who supported her passion for education, writing and advocacy. Widowed during her early 20s, she chose to continue her passion and talent for writing, supporting herself and three children, on the fruits of her labour. In sum, she may be understood, or viewed, as one of the first women in history to have lived solely from creative endeavour.

I cite here two works, which allow me to transcend the past with the present. In The Book of the City of Ladies (Le Livre de la Cité des Dames), completed in 1405, the social importance and imperative of women’s equality in the context of relationships and partnerships is exemplified both anecdotally and metaphorically. A deeper reading of this work, or perhaps, reading between the lines, brings the notion of human security to mind, such that only through equality, can networks of sustainable and lasting peace, for society, be achieved and fortified. In this respect, I am encouraged to consider the relatively of the roots of de Pizan’s arguments, which highlight women’s independence while advocating for uniform opportunities and equal rights through a subtle and powerful approach.

With clarity of vision for a better present and future, de Pizan showed how equal treatment and fairness, in everyday contexts, can improve the ebb and flow of life of equality of all. In this respect, de Pizan used the power of the written word at the intersection of the quotidian and Christian morality, coupled with a stylized ability to deploy rhetorical strategy, to illuminate and challenge societal behaviour and sources of women’s oppression. In sum, her ability to deliver a message based in gender equality, so many centuries ago, was both insightful and intuitive – and is one which echoes her visionary ability to delineate the critical role women play in the greater process of conflict prevention, conflict resolution and peacebuilding.

I also cite the work The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry (Le Livre des faits d’armes et de chevalerie), completed by 1410. This book may be conceptualized as a strategic resource for its time, as it provided a vernacular study of military strategy and warfare, coupled with a discussion on the meaning of “just” war. The work is particularly important for the perspective it provides, suggesting arguments for why and how women could be equally knowledgeable and capable as men, to the discussion of war and conflict prevention, and to the facilitation of counsel for that matter.

To conclude, Christine de Pizan conveyed her opinions with subtlety, through the medium of the written word, supported by the framework of the illuminated manuscript. In the twenty-first century, deconstructing the lessons de Pizan chose to express, the issues she addressed, and the mechanism within which she deployed her message, affirm the breadth and depth of the peace, which informed her approach to penetrating the constraints and rigidity of patriarchal society. When considering the power of documentary media, her work and integrity of character, were groundbreaking for their time, as they sounded the alarm – by way of text, image, and action with respect to the hazards, which inequality poses to society.

I am humbled by having been able to learn about the story of Christine de Pizan, by reconnecting the meaning, integrity, and relativity of her story to the work, which informs my days at Our Secure Future – affirming that justice remains a continuous work in progress.

Image from Le Livre de la Cité des dames (Christine de Pizan reading in her study). Copyright of the Bibliothèque de Genève

Reflections on Kidnap for Ransom through the Lens of Private Law

by Amanda Arella 

This blog post was adapted from a presentation entitled “Duty of Care in the Context of Kidnap for Ransom”

One of my major project during the course of my internship at Oceans Beyond Piracy was to research duty of care in the context of kidnap for ransom. Specifically, I examined the duty of care that employers owed to their employees travelling abroad. Aid workers and other non-governmental employees who travel to conflict regions are particularly vulnerable to the growing phenomenon of kidnap for ransom.

While researching this question, I came across a court case between the Netherlands and Médecins Sans Fronitères. Etat de Pays-Bays c. Médecins Sans Fronitères was a case that went Switzerland’s highest judicial body, the Federal Tribunal revolving around the alleged payment of a ransom.

In 2002, Arjan Ekel, a Dutch national, was kidnapped while volunteering with Doctors Without Borders in Dagestan. He was released after 20 months in captivity upon the payment of a ransom of 1 million euros.  Following his release, the Dutch government sued MSF for the ransom amount, claiming it had arranged for a loan for MSF to cover the cost of the ransom. MSF countersued the Dutch government, arguing that it had been excluded from negotiations and never agreed to pay the money.

This case instantly captured my attention, and reflecting upon my work this summer, I realized that it is a good case study to highlight some of the issues I’ve focused on on this summer. Etat de Pays-Bays c. Médecins Sans Fronitères brings together the legal and the political elements of kidnap for ransom, and also ties in some of the fundamental elements of private law.

The three main elements at play in this case that I want to highlight, because they are all issues that came up again and again in my work this summer. This first is transparency in ransom negotiations, the second is the private law duty of care as it relates to non-governmental employees, and the third is contractual implications in cases of kidnap for ransom.

Transparency in Ransom Negotiations

This case is highly unusual for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that non-government organizations and governments do not typically sue each other. Moreover, cases heard in court are part of the public record, a reality which stands in stark contradiction to the extremely secretive nature of most ransom negotiations.

The official position of virtually all countries and major NGOs is that they do not pay ransom. There are strong arguments in favour of this position: Many governments and organizations feel admitting to paying ransoms is tantamount to endangering their citizens or employees. Furthermore, there is a fear that publicly discussing negotiations many heighten the demands of kidnappers, and encourage further kidnapping.

However, the practical effect of this stance is that there is a lack of transparency as to what actually transpires when an individual is kidnapped. Whether or not a ransom is paid, there is often some level of official involvement both by governments and, in the case of aid workers, the organization they represent. This lack of transparency also comes at a cost. Firstly, it is very difficult to analyze trends in kidnapping, and to thus understand the full extent of kidnap for ransom in our modern world. Additionally, this lack of transparency discourages open conversation about kidnap for ransom. Together, these realities have profound implications.

Kidnap for ransom brings up many difficult ethical questions. While there is no consensus on best practices for addressing and eventually eliminating this phenomenon, there is a growing understanding that ransom payments are used to finance terrorism and criminal activities. Furthermore, the widespread instances of kidnap for ransom heightens violence and instability in the region where it takes place. These facts may illustrate some of the arguments in favour of a hardline stance against negotiating with kidnappers. Yet there can be no discussion of this question without acknowledging that a person’s life is at stake in every instance of kidnap for ransom.

The ethical questions of kidnap for ransom are an area which I have given much thought this summer, and to which I have no definitive answer. Familiarizing myself with this topic has only made it clearer to me that in an issue this complex and multi-faceted, a definitive solution or strategy to addressing the problem simply does not exist. It is for this reason that cases like Etat de Pays-Bays c. Médecins Sans Fronitères are so important. They provide an opportunity for all people to inform themselves on this issue and engage together in critical debate and reflection on kidnap for ransom.

Duty of Care and Non-Governmental Organizations

Next, the case reaffirms that nongovernmental organizations have a duty of care to their travelling employees. Duty of care is in many ways a moral duty enshrined in a legal principle that exists in virtually all legal jurisdictions in some form or another. It is legal obligation that requires a person or organization acts toward others and the public in a prudent manner to avoid the risk of reasonably foreseeable injury to those around them. Duty of care is premised on a relationship of proximity employer and employee.  Where an employer breaches the duty of care owed to an employee, they may be found civilly liable for negligence.

In order for a duty of care to exist, there must be a relationship of proximity between the wrongdoer and the victim. In virtually all jurisdictions, the relationship between employer and employee is considered sufficiently close for a duty of care to exist.

An organization may face liability risk when an employee is injured or killed while travelling abroad on behalf of the organization. Employers may be held to a higher standard of care in instances where employees enter into situations of heightened risk during the course of their work, as may be the case for employees travelling abroad on behalf of their employer. This higher standard of care includes identifying and planning for higher risks to employees, and may be satisfied by adopting employee safety and risk management practices.

Contractual Agreements

Ultimately, this case was decided on principles of contract law. Based on a letter between MSF Switzerland and the Dutch government, the Swiss Federal Tribunal held that the two parties must split the cost of the ransom. The Federal Tribunal found that in the letter, MSF put forward an offer, which was then accepted by the Dutch government. There was thus a meeting of the minds which produced a validly binding contract. It was particularly interesting to me that a case surrounding ransom payments – normally a topic which has largely been unexamined from a legal perspective, was decided through a well-established area of law.

Furthermore, this decision may have some significance for the growing phenomenon of kidnap and ransom insurance, in which employers or individuals themselves may take out insurance against the risk of kidnapping. These agreements are a new phenomenon that are in some ways uncharted territory, but are at their core contracts governed by deeply entrenched legal principles. It is unclear to what extent one or the other of these characterizations is more accurate. So too is it unclear if the extent to which government policies and political perceptions of this issue will interact with contract law.  Undoubtedly, there are many unanswered questions of the implications of bringing kidnap for ransom into the sphere of private law, making it a dynamic area for further examination.

Meeting the Survivors Behind the Cases

2016 Dionne Desbiens Esther-1By Esther Dionne Desbiens

My internship with Equality Effect & Ripples International in Meru, Kenya was amazing. I cannot believe how fast it went by. Kenya gave me a very warm karibu (welcome in Swahili), and for that I am very thankful.

On a gloomy day this July (one of the coolest months in Kenya), a coworker told the staff at Ripples International to “carry [our] own weather”. I thought this expression was such a nice reminder to be positive. While people at Ripples International did encourage each other to be positive, I did encounter a cultural difference here. In Canada, people would say I’m outgoing and friendly. However, at Ripples International, some of my colleagues said that my personality was like that of a cartoon character. I didn’t know if this was an insult or a compliment, but my Kenyan friend and colleague reassured me that it was a compliment! My personality was not the only thing that made me stand out in rural Kenya. Being a muzungu (person of European descent) did not go unnoticed. I would often be greeted with the word muzungu when running errands or just walking around. After learning some Swahili, I was able to respond to those greetings with sasa (how are you) to which people answered poa (good). This response sparked conversations as the people I interacted with realized that I was willing to learn more about their language and culture. Knowing some Swahili meant that I was no longer a stranger to Kenya, it showed that I was there to learn.

Now on to my work experience. This has been the most hands-on, field work focused and interactive legal experience. So much of my work as a legal intern for Equality Effect at Ripples International revolved around meeting police officers, magistrates, survivors and their guardians in many different settings. This internship had so much fieldwork, I really felt as though I was able to fully immerse myself not only in Kenyan culture, but also in the Kenyan criminal justice system. For example, on July 21st, Ashley and I spent less than one hour at the office. We started off the day at 7:00 talking about our internship in Kenya on the radio in Isiolo, we then conducted a guardian interview at the office, we then participated in a women’s support group meeting, and finally we ended our day at 18:00 in town to conduct another guardian interview. Continuously meeting passionate people wanting to contribute to the 160 Girls Project aiming to protect children from sexual abuse was truly inspiring.

On the radio for the second time in Isiolo with Gerald (Access to Justice Program Manager), Denson (Radio Host) and Ashley (Equality Effect Intern).

On the radio for the second time in Isiolo with Gerald (Access to Justice Program Manager), Denson (Radio Host) and Ashley (Equality Effect Intern).

My colleague Ann, social worker at Ripples International, introducing Ripples International to a women’s support group.

My colleague Ann, social worker at Ripples International, introducing Ripples International to a women’s support group.

I often found that while studying law, there is a disconnect between the judgments we read and the people’s stories behind these judgments. Studying for my extra-contractual law exam in first year, I found myself trying to memorize the case Bazley v Curry as if it was simply a case that I had to understand in order to do well on my exam. I stopped myself after a moment to think about this case which involved a Children’s Foundation employee sexually abusing children. What was I doing? I was simplifying this horrible story into a set of legal rules that I could use to answer the fact pattern on my exam. This moment of reflection made me aware of my lack of knowledge on the stories behind the decisions that I read for my law courses.

This internship has been a great way to fill the gap that I experienced in my law courses. As part of our police monitoring work, my colleagues and I closely followed around 40 cases by visiting police stations, contacting guardians and attending numerous court hearings. Not only did I know the case files of the survivors very well, but often, I interacted with the girls who lived at Tumaini Rescue Centre. I could piece the difficult stories we read in case files with the girls I spent time with at the shelter. While knowing the girls’ stories made my work difficult emotionally, interacting with the girls, and seeing how wonderful they are, really gave me hope that the support they receive from Equality Effect and Ripples International is bettering their lives.

Almost every Saturday, Ashley and I went to Tumaini Rescue Centre to play sports, draw and dance with the girls. Above is a picture taken when we were drawing with chalk in the yard.

Almost every Saturday, Ashley and I went to Tumaini Rescue Centre to play sports, draw and dance with the girls. Above is a picture taken when we were drawing with chalk in the yard.

A beautiful work of art found in Tumaini Rescue Centre to highlight the importance of expressive art therapy.

A beautiful work of art found in Tumaini Rescue Centre to highlight the importance of expressive art therapy.

Ashley and I met with one of the girls after she was discharged from the shelter. We had gone to her step-father’s judgment hearing in Githongo Law Courts where he was convicted to life imprisonment for sexually abusing her. Talking with her was truly inspiring. She first said the following: “I’d like to thank Ripples. Going through the case wasn’t easy at first, but I overcame.” She told us that Ripples International’s counselling gave her the courage to testify. Ashley and I even bonded with her after she told us, “I dream to be a lawyer. I especially would like to help the girl child.” We talked about law school and encouraged her to keep working hard in school. It’s wonderful to see such a strong girl wanting to give back to other survivors of sexual abuse. I hope her dream of becoming a lawyer comes true because we need compassionate and caring lawyers to advocate for children’s rights.

  This picture was taken during our meeting with this brave survivor who wants to become a lawyer!


This picture was taken during our meeting with this brave survivor who wants to become a lawyer!

Our internship was challenging at times, but overall, the experience was incredibly rewarding on emotional, social and legal levels. However, in court, I did encounter some access to justice issues that organizations such as Ripples International and Equality Effect are trying to mitigate by providing legal support to survivors.

Delays

One big problem was delays in court. We would often go to court and matters were delayed for many reasons: the magistrate was not in, the accused was not in custody, the accused was in custody but was not brought to court, the hearing was rescheduled. These delays were incredibly frustrating, particularly because at Tumaini Centre rescuing the girls is usually temporary. Thus, girls are often discharged after they testify. When court hearings are delayed, this means that the survivor cannot testify, thus cannot be discharged, and therefore cannot go back to school. A magistrate was worried about the delays for one of the girl’s case as not going to school would go against the best interest of the child. In Kenya, the best interest of the child is a primary consideration “in all actions concerning children, whether undertaken by public or private social welfare institutions, courts of law, administrative authorities or legislative bodies”. [1] This is an interesting difference with Canada, where the best interest of the child is a main concept in family law, but not a general overarching concept in all actions involving children.

Cross-Examinations

Another occurrence which shocked me in court is that the accused in Kenya will often cross-examine the witnesses (including the victim), as most accused are not represented by a lawyer. While Legal Aid and Pro-Bono programs are in place in Kenya, most are not yet operational. Our coworker in the Access to Justice Department noted that in theory, Kenya has great laws, but that in practice, it’s often a different story. I attended two victim testimony hearings during my three months in Kenya, and both times the accused cross-examined the victim. One time, I was the only person sitting between the victim and the accused. I felt like a buffer, but not a sufficient buffer to prevent further harm to the victim. This is an access to justice issue on two different levels. First, the accused person is disadvantaged because he/she does not know the procedural and evidentiary rules. Second, this impedes on the survivor’s emotional access to justice as being cross-examined by your perpetrator is a form of re-victimization. In Canada, it is very rare for an unrepresented accused to cross-examine the victim in a criminal case because of applications made by prosecutors under section 486.3 of the Criminal Code to appoint counsel for cross-examinations. This reality in Kenyan criminal law courts demonstrates a need for the implementation of testimonial aids.

Finally, awareness campaigns are really important to make sure the laws to protect children—the Sexual Offences Act, the Children Act, the Kenyan Constitution—are fully implemented. I ended my enriching internship on a very positive note. I helped the 160 Girls social worker, Cornelius, facilitate a “Girls for Justice” Public Legal Education session in a primary school. The children asked very thoughtful questions and were eager to participate when we taught them the 160 Girls anthem “Say No”.

Cornelius at the “Girls for Justice” Public Legal Education seminar.

Cornelius at the “Girls for Justice” Public Legal Education seminar.

I will never forget this internship, and I hope to come back to Kenya one day. Until then, asante sana (thank you very much) for this beautiful experience and tutaonana (goodbye and see you again) Kenya.

Beautiful Kenya.

Beautiful Kenya.

[1] Children Act, The Republic of Kenya, Revised Edition 2012 [2010], Chapter 141, s 4(2).

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