Following Up: More Impunity

chris_maughnBy Christopher Maughan

In my last post, I mentioned the Maguindanao Massacre, in which 32 journalists and 57 people in total were killed for registering their dissent against the Ampatuan family. The Ampatuans had maintained a stranglehold on political power in Maguindanao through corruption and intimidation.

The prosecution’s strongest witness in the ensuing trial has recently been gunned down. It’s rumoured that the Ampatuans are involved. See the news links below:

Some news from Phnom Penh

patrickBy Patrick Reynaud

The first few weeks in Cambodia have been quite fascinating.

I am working at The Cambodian League for the Promotion and Defense of Human Rights, known as LICADHO. This is one of the most prominent human rights NGOs in the country, founded in 1992 by Dr. Kek Galabru. LICADHO is very active on a varied number of fronts pertaining to the promotion and defense of human rights. Prominent issues recently have included abusive expropriations, also known as land grabs, performed by government authorities on behalf of business interests either closely linked or forming an integral part of the current governance structure. Significant and sometimes violent relocalizations of entire communities, without proper compensation, have abounded in recent years, both in Phnom Penh and the provinces. Another important area of activity for LICADHO of late concerns threats by government authorities against human rights defenders.

Unfortunately, community representatives, journalists, NGO members, monks and many other individuals who voice their opinion against the government on various issues, including land grabs, have found themselves imprisoned. Common charges include disinformation or incitement, which are criminal offenses and are used by public prosecutors in order to silence government critics, as well as political opposition. Sam Rainsy, leader of the opposition against the Cambodian People’s Party of longstanding Prime Minister Hun Sen, escaped abroad after being charged with destruction of property and incitement by the courts. Mu Suchua, another prominent opposition politician was recently charged with defamation against Hun Sen, for holding a press conference where she accused the Prime Minister of defamation. She has refused to pay the fine, and is likely to be imprisoned shortly for contempt of court.

These problems highlight what appears to be an endemic and recurring issue, namely the lack of a consistent rule of law in Cambodia. The executive branch seems to wield a heavy influence with the judiciary. Issues of impartiality and corruption unfortunately abound. The legislative structure is arguably in place to ensure respect for human rights and the democratic process. What lacks is an independent judicial authority to enforce laws.

For instance, judge Ney Thol, a longstanding President of the Military Court and member of the ruling Cambodian People’s Party Central Committee, is best known for presiding at two major trials where Prime Minister Hun Sen’s political opponents were convicted of national security related crimes. In 1998, he sentenced then opposition leader Norodom Rinariddh to 30 years imprisonment. Later, in 2005, he condemned opposition politician Cheam Channy to 7 years of detention. During this trial he barred defense lawyers from calling witnesses and interrupted their cross-examination of prosecution witnesses. Judge Ney Thol is now a member of the Extraordinary Chamber in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), an international tribunal responsible for trying former Khmer Rouge leaders involved in the genocide that occured in the late 1970s.

Although the most prominent cases include opposition politicians, many individuals critical to the current regime have unfortunately been condemned of or threatened with spurious legal charges. The most recent trend for intimidation involves the release of human rights defenders on bail. Pending charges will often not proceed to trial, but niether will they be dropped, to serve as a tool guaranteeing the good behavior of those released.

A recent personal experience highlighted issues pertaining to official authorities. I was unfortunately stopped by police on a Phnom Penh boulevard while riding my motorcycle. The policeman promptly demanded $50, while threatening to confiscate my vehicle and to bring me to the local police station. An interesting negotiation session ensued, whereby the informal payment was reduced to $5 for the multiple driving offenses I was ostensibly guilty of. The most effective way to avoid dealing with local authorities is to ignore their summons to pull over when apprehended; unfortunately the particular layout forced me to stop the vehicle. Police as civil servants are poorly and irregularly paid, and as a result most fines are informal payments meant to complement their income.

Another worrisome trend has been the Cambodian government’s repeated intention to pass a law on Associations and Non-Governmental Organizations, commonly known as NGO law. The official purpose of the law would be to curb crime and corruption on the part of NGOs, as well as to prevent terrorist activity, both of which are already dealt with under the penal code and anti-terrorist legislation. The law would most likely be used to restrict freedom of association by denying registration to NGOs critical of government policies.

Working at LICADHO has been quite interesting. My coworkers are warm and welcoming. I have travelled to the south and Sihanoukeville with some colleagues, as well as Kirirom National Park, as the motorcycle gives an easy opportunity to travel on week-ends. The country is quite beautiful, and I naturally look forward to visiting the north and Angkor Wat later in August.

The Filipino Culture of Impunity

chris_maughnBy Christopher Maughan

Today I was finally going to publish my introductory post, the one that says “here I am in the Philippines and this is what I’ve been doing over the last few weeks. Working at the Ateneo Human Rights Center has been an enriching experience, I’m learning a lot, and I think I’m finally adapting to the culture…”

All of that is true. But today I want to write about something else: three local journalists killed in less than a week, just for speaking their minds.

Gunned down in public. Even though such killings have happened many times before, I can’t believe the news.

I didn’t know what to say after the first two journalists were killed, hence the absence of a blog post on the subject. I was shocked. I still am, especially now that a third journalist has died, but I feel an obligation to write something on the subject to draw people’s attention to the news since it hasn’t been making headlines in Canada.

The first killing happened five days ago. Desidario Camangyan, a radio reporter who had criticized the government for turning a blind eye to illegal logging practices, was shot while hosting an amateur singing contest. His wife and son were in the audience.

Less than 24 hours later, Joselito Agustin, another radio broadcaster, was shot and killed while on his way home from work. Like Camangyan, Agustin had spoken out against government corruption.

This weekend, Nestor Bedolido, a newspaper reporter, was shot and killed as he was buying cigarettes from a street vendor. Belodido was supposedly behind a number of scathing exposes written about an allegedly corrupt politician in Davao del Sur.

So far no one has been arrested and all but one of the suspects are unidentified.

The killings bring the number of journalists killed in the Philippines to 107 – and that’s just in the last nine years, since President Gloria Arroyo took power in 2001. Since the inception of democracy in 1986, 140 have been killed in total.

Before posting some news links and a few thoughts, I should mention that all of this comes only seven months after the Maguindanao Massacre, in which 32 journalists lost their lives for taking political action, for merely deigning to defy a local “politician-warlord” who had maintained a stranglehold on power through corruption and intimidation.

News links are below (links are posted first; my thoughts are underneath), with a Wikipedia entry on the Massacre that links to stories published in late 2009. About a week and a half ago, an activist came into our office with pictures of the victims of Maguindanao – they were by far the most shocking images I have ever seen.

So that’s the news. Here are some of my thoughts.

First of all, given the circumstances, there’s little doubt that these killings are politically motivated. The two most recent ones meet the profile of the typical Filipino political killing: a gunman walks up to the victim in the middle of the street, fires, and rides away on the back of a motorcycle that’s waiting nearby. Too many journalists, lawyers and activists have been killed this way, usually after expressing criticism of the government or left-wing political views. Too few of the men and women behind these killings have been brought to justice – there have only been a handful of convictions.

Second, it’s disheartening that even after a UN Special Rapporteur report on extrajudicial (that is, illegal and political) killings in the Philippines, a local commission-of-inquiry report on the matter, the creation of a national Commission on Human Rights, and the creation of a national police task force, extrajudicial killings continue to take place – and the perpetrators seem as bold as ever. Some of the gunmen don’t even hide their faces – a telling sign that they know they can count on a culture of impunity.

Like the Maguindanao Massacre, I guess this series of killings reflects what is often the reality of human rights legal work – you can set up all the commissions and send all the rapporteurs you want, you can write reports, you can call people out in the press, but things will not change overnight. That said, there are signs that extrajudicial killings generally are tapering off – there are fewer per year now than there were in 2006, when there were 209 in total. Perhaps the best that can be hoped for is slow and incremental change.

This week, though, it feels like change cannot come soon enough.

I want to end on a positive note. The Ateneo Human Rights Center is doing a lot to help prevent extrajudicial killings and give prosecutors and investigators the tools they need to obtain convictions. In addition to the academic research I’m doing for the Center, I’m involved in two really interesting projects to this end. First, I’m involved in the planning of a national public awareness campaign; staff from the Center will be holding public forums on extrajudicial killings at over 60 locations all across the country. Second, I’m helping with the creation of Multi-Sectoral Quick Reaction Teams, which are locally-based collectives of legal and human rights experts who come together to provide support to victims when an extralegal killing takes place.

I feel extremely privileged to be able to help out with these initiatives. Hopefully, along with this week’s bad news, they’ll get people thinking about how to dismantle the infrastructure of impunity that allows violations of rights to life and free expression to keep happening.

About the pangs of development.

ludoLudovic Langlois-Therien

Après m’être relu, je ne peux que constater la maladresse, voire l’inexactitude des propos que je m’apprête à tenir. Néanmoins, il s’agit d’une réaction “à chaud”, écrite d’un seul jet, et j’ai tenu à la préserver ainsi.

In one of her posts, Kelly mentioned the frustration she felt about the very limited impact of community oriented NGOs, that it had been one of the reasons for her to pursue legal studies, to gain a more effective tool to help the people. Being currently an intern in the same NGO where Kelly once worked, I understand her frustration.

Since I have been here, I have not only witnessed the limited impact of community NGOs, but also of the general framework of human rights when applied to people that are so poor that they have trouble affording their bare necessities.

One aspect of my work consists of educating people in the slums about their tenure rights, about what they can do to be “in the law” and how they can have local recourses against the authorities that want to evict them. Walking in the slums and interviewing potential victims of forced evictions, I have come to realize that often, these people are fully conscious of their rights, of how they are currently trespassing the law; but also, how they did not give a damn about it because they had more urgent preoccupations, like finding food for their children. Before coming here, I knew the situation was not going to be all black or all white, but I would not have suspected to be in the position of sympathizing with the authorities, at least not in a strictly legal point of view.

It is true that the local law concerning tenure rights is not the most sensitive one (especially when you compare it to Quebec law…), but it is still far from what the “kafka-ian” nightmare that I had come to expect. For instance, people receive a “notice of eviction” one entire year before they are actually evicted. Given that they are occupying lands that aren’t theirs and the city need to urbanize new spaces for a growing population, one year seems a fair delay. In other words, I could not see the problem as a proper legal one.

When local law is deficient in terms of human rights, international law of human rights can be a useful joker, most notably for advocacy. But at its current stage in Africa, and when it is a question of social rights in a place as deprived as Cameroon, international law of human rights itself is a very limited tool. While social rights are not a “luxury” per se, they remain somewhat “utopist” when considered in a society that is struggling with corruption and tons of other pressing issues. In fact, most people here have no expectations from neither their government nor from the international order, they just do their best to live and improve their situation. “L’Afrique, c’est d’abord la débrouille”, as I have heard many say.

In this situation, I think that the main problem is not the law, nor its application, but the fact that slum dwellers first need a decent job. We are not talking big amounts of money, just enough resources to satisfy bare necessities. If that would happen, people would be able to cope more easily with their situation, like finding a new home in less than one year. In a place where institutions are so flawed, where the government is so corrupted, I have come to believe that social-economic self-determination is often the most efficient way to protect oneself.

In a bit less than two months of work, I have interacted with many NGOs and local UN departments. I have encountered so many gender/international development/social sciences students from all over the world (including Africa) doing every sort of morally valuable work you can think of that I could fill up many planes. While I highly regard all these efforts, I also wish there could be more business people with enough balls to invest here and employ local people.

Band-aids on gaping wounds?

chiaraBy Chiara Fish

Iqaluit (meaning “place of many fish”) – now including this one – is large, well-equipped and very friendly. I am working at Maliiganik Tukisiiniakvik, the legal aid clinic that serves the Baffin region of Nunavut.

I love working here. There is a strong sense of community and people are very welcoming and friendly. It is shockingly beautiful. The apartment in which I am living overlooks Frobisher Bay and everyday I can see the ice melting, the tide coming in and out and the mountains becoming browner as the snow melts. Soon the first ship (an icebreaker) should arrive.

One of the many advantages of working at legal aid in the North is that they throw their student interns directly into the fray. Right now I am focusing on criminal law and later I will work on family law as well. Nunavut unfortunately has the second highest crime rate in Canada, so there is lots of work to do, especially considering the shortage of lawyers. In addition to research, I interview clients before trials and in my third week I began running my own bail hearings. Everyday is different and exciting and full of learning.

Our staff includes one Inuit lawyer and several courtworkers, but most of the lawyers in Iqaluit are white. It is amazing to see how the Inuit courtworkers can interact with the clients as compared to the rest of us. Not only is there a language barrier, but people who are truly part of this community know one another and relate to each other in a way that an outsider cannot. Clearly there is a need for more Inuit lawyers. I do not understand how it is possible that the Akitisraq law school program has been put on hold for lack of funding (Akitsiraq).

I am shocked by the absence of treatment centers in Iqaluit. People are held in custody at Baffin Correctional Center, which is currently at about twice capacity. This must constitute some sort of rights violation, in addition to violating fire and other safety regulations. Yet the system is seemingly unable to address the underlying problems that lead to offences and recidivism.

Given the extremely high rate of alcoholism in Nunavut, it seems absurd that there is no treatment center in the territory. If people want treatment, they must go south – separated from their families, culture, language and support systems. Many of the sentences include a condition that the individual not possess or consume alcohol or other intoxicating substances. In the absence of treatment, it seems absurd to put an alcoholic or drug user on such a condition – they are basically being set up to breach the condition, which can result in jail time and can go on their criminal record.

Sometimes I think it would be more productive to be a social worker, psychologist or psychiatrist working up here because then at least one could address the underlying and long-term issues that people face. As one of my colleagues said, often it feels as though we as lawyers are just putting band-aids on gaping wounds. I find it especially difficult to see youth already trapped in the criminal justice system who are angry, unable to express themselves and unable to get the treatment they need. It seems as though we as a society are really failing…

Law as a tool for development?

kelly_mcmillanBy Kelly McMillan

After finishing an undergraduate degree in international development studies, I was eager for some “real field experience”. Sure, I had participated in a number of valuable development-related internships in Canada, but I wanted a taste of how Development (as industry) operates on the ground. In 2006, I headed to Cameroon to participate in a 10-month internship on housing rights. I touched on a wide range of projects over those months, from trainings on income-generating activities for women, to facilitating the commercialization of local produce, to improving an existing microcredit facility, to organizing workshops on gender-based violence, to offering legal information seminars on housing and family law issues.

It was this last experience that ultimately motivated me to study law. Over the course of that year, I was exposed to a number of consultants in various fields passing through the organization and offering their expertise with concrete, tangible results. I felt my background in IDS was insufficient to allow me to make any really meaningful contribution. In particular, I was frustrated by the small scale of the community-based interventions I was involved in, and was discouraged by the lack of immediate results in some of the more policy-oriented initiatives. I felt that law—and community legal services in particular—would be my own “tool” to use to further women’s rights in the international context.

So, four years later, I was thrilled to have been selected for McGill CHRLP’s internship placement at the Refugee Law Project. I have already worked for two legal clinics in Montreal, and love the satisfaction that comes from solving a real human being’s concrete problem. It was a perfect combination of my IDS background and legal skills.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as so much of a shock to me that a few short weeks into my internship, the things that seemed less significant to me in my first overseas experience are the exact ones I find starkly absent in my present placement—namely, small-scale income-generating activities, vocational training programs and microcredit facilities! Not to mention an overarching philosophy of what is trying to be achieved.

On one of my first days, a counsellor at RLP summed up the general feeling of frustration I have since heard echoed by a number of RLP staff: “I refuse to counsel a hungry refugee!”

For someone who had initially been so optimistic about the promise of legal aid in development, this was a disturbing thing to hear. I have been thinking about it more and more: legal aid and psychosocial support is well and good, but is not enough for a person who fails to meet even the basic daily needs of herself and her family. Many refugees wait outside RLP all day without a meal. Many of the children cannot attend school for want of funds for transportation, uniforms and supplies and so instead work as house girls under oftentimes harsh conditions. I have heard the children themselves articulate education as their single biggest priority. As Intake Officer, a majority of my clients’ problems are not really legal, but medical or financial.

Although, admittedly, one organization cannot do everything, perhaps CONGEH did have the right recipe after all: an integrated approach focusing on finding sustainable ways to meet communities’ basic needs first, with some small resources to address individual legal problems in the short-term, but with a greater emphasis on preventing the legal issues from arising through information campaigns. I certainly don’t have an easy answer to this (surely there isn’t one), but now I have an even greater respect for (and am more in tune to) the priorities as identified by refugees, rather than donors.

So while Uganda’s theme for this year’s world refugee day (June 20th) is “Self-Reliance: Life Beyond Relief Aid”, I am perplexed by an almost total lack of services available to Kampala’s refugees to assist them in actually building such a life. For a person who has just lost everything, a start-up loan could go a long way…

Panem et circem

ludoBy Ludovic Langlois-Therien

This Friday, something big will happen in Africa. People will turn on their TVs or gather in bars to witness the opening ceremony of the World Cup. Trust me, describing the hype as “ecstatic” would be a euphemism.

Yesterday, I went to Ahidjo stadium, with nearly 40,000 other Cameroonians, to pay my respect to the national team, the Untamable Lions, who flew early this morning for SA. I had to wait 1h30 squeezed in the jam-packed bleachers, but it was worth it. I finally got to see the local living gods, Samuel Eto’o, Stéphane Mbiya and Alexandre Song.

After President (dictator?) Biya made a nationalist speech, thanking the players for their patriotism and wishing them good luck, the team was divided into two squads. They then played a one hour-long friendly game. As players were obviously avoiding injuries (it is insane how many great players will miss the WC due to last minute injuries), the pace was definitely slow, but the skills showed off still very impressive.

Poster Despite the global sense of joy that Cameroon World Cup qualification commands, I talked to people who were a bit dissatisfied with the Lions’ recent performances. Let’s remember that when the Cameroonian Lions did qualify, the government decided to invest tons of money (millions of Euros, apparently) in their preparation.

While it is debatable on whether this money would have otherwise serve to reinforce social services or to build another presidential palace, poor results in the last preparation games, notably two loss against Serbia and Portugal, were enough to cool off the excitement of the most pragmatic fans. In any cases, truth will come up next Monday, when Cameroon will play its first “real” game. In the meantime, Eto’o jerseys are selling pretty well, and people are happy.

After the game, my cab was caught up in a cheerful riot when non-pragmatic supporters tried to stop the team’s coach. Policemen and militaries were dispatched, and gunshots were fired.

I can’t wait for next week!

Don’t Underestimate Human Rights Internships in Canada

caylee_hongBy Caylee Hong

Human rights issues are often relegated to the Otherness of the so-called Developing/Third World, accompanied by the perception that human rights work means going to distant places. The association between ‘going far’ and success rings true for internship statuses: human rights internships’ authenticity, credibility and prestige are often aligned with the ‘exoticness’ of their destination (cities like New York or Brussels beings exceptions given they are institutional epicentres of non-governmental and international big-wigs). Having interned in Nairobi for eight months with the UN and volunteered in China and South East Asia, I admit to the draw of experience in the field, the undeniable excitement of foreign travel and the esteem of going far away to work on human rights.

My past four weeks at Amnesty International Canada and the Canadian Centre for International Justice (CCIJ) in the not-so-far-away-land of Ottawa challenge the assumptions that ‘serious’ human rights violations are a distant problem and that ‘the real’ human rights work is abroad. In today’s political climate, staying in the nation’s capital means gaining practical human rights experience on the ground. While a summer in Ottawa lacks the allure of three months in a faraway location, by interning at Amnesty I feel inspired and prepared to work in human rights sectors, both in Canada and abroad. Gaining experience at home and away – while avoiding the conceptual division between ‘local’ and ‘foreign’ human rights issues – is key.

In particular, I have benefited from direct interaction with different justice institutions while gaining diverse legal experience which is exciting given that I am only entering my second year at McGill. Since my second day and continuing through June, I have attended the Military Police Complaints Commission hearings on the Afghan detainee issue where I rapporteured, wrote Amnesty’s updates and undertook legal research. It introduced me to an entirely different type of proceeding, exposed me to new areas of law such as military justice and operational law and allowed me to witness the cross-examination of Canada’s leading military officials and political advisors.

I have also been involved in the hearings at the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal over the underfunding of First Nations children on reserves. The submissions by Professor Joanne St. Lewis and David Nahwegahbow, representing the Assembly of First Nations, truly encouraged me that human rights talk is not about some distant injustice and that knowing the law, being trained in the law, is empowering.

Last week I attended the launch of the homelessness challenge whereby former and current homeless individuals and housing advocates are asking the Superior Court of Ontario for a declaration that Canada and Ontario violated their Charter rights by creating and maintaining conditions that lead to homelessness and inadequate housing. Researching Charter issues surrounding homelessness and its intersections with health, disability and poverty echoed similar issues I had worked on while interning with the UN’s Human Settlement Programme. Urgent action needed to address (in)security of tenure, (in)adequate housing and exclusion link Canada to many other places in the world.

These three direct interactions with justice institutions have impressed upon me the massive scope of human rights work and the intersections between human rights in Canada and those elsewhere in the world. It challenges the not-so-innocent perception that ‘real’ victims/perpetrators of human rights are in distant lands. It forces one to consider the relationship of the Canadian government, the Canadian public and Canadian companies to human rights violations abroad. Bill C-300, which seeks corporate accountability for mining, oil and gas activities in developing countries, and the reform of Canada’s State Immunity Act demonstrate how domestic legislation affects human rights abroad directly.

Don’t underestimate internships in Canada. Closer to home is closer to the action than we would care to believe.

A snapshot of the first four weeks

kelly_mcmillanBy Kelly McMillan

The first four weeks of my stay here in Kampala, Uganda, have been a whirlwind. If I didn’t contribute to this page earlier, it’s not for want of subject matter. Rather, I have been trying to wrap my head around everything I have been seeing and experiencing—both in my daily life and in terms of the legal issues I have been exploring in my internship.

Children and youth from the refugee community participate in an SGBV workshop at Old Kampala Primary School, May 15, 2010

Children and youth from the refugee community participate in an SGBV workshop at Old Kampala Primary School, May 15, 2010

Since my arrival, I have been busy getting lost in the chaos of Kampala’s taxi parks; learning to say “I don’t eat meat” (silia nyama) and other choice phrases in Luganda; sampling Ugandan cuisine (posho [known elsewhere in East Africa as ugali], matoke [mashed plantain], mputa [Nile Perch]); listening to  stories of the Buganda kingdom; venturing through congested markets on the shores of Lake Victoria (ten minutes from my house); not to mention dealing with such common occurrences as power outages, water shortages, vehicle break-downs and flash flooding! Just getting through the day in Kampala has proved exhilarating, to say the least.

At work, the learning curve has been just as steep. The Refugee Law Project is a large, bustling NGO of approximately 65 local and international staff, interns and volunteers. RLP is part community legal clinic, part crisis centre, part public policy advocate, part research institute, and part language school. At any given moment, dozens of refugees from a handful of countries can be found milling around the front courtyard waiting for legal or counseling services; attending English-language classes in the back; or even—in the case of one refugee women’s association—giving back by cleaning the office on a Friday afternoon.

I work in RLP’s Legal & Psychosocial Department (LPD). I spent my first two weeks assisting with the planning and execution of a week of events to raise awareness on sex and gender-based violence in the refugee community, including a children’s workshop, a police training and a roundtable discussion with stakeholders.

More recently, I have started doing “intake”, which is essentially the front line of RLP’s services. I listen to the client’s story and if her situation falls within one of the LPD’s program areas, I schedule a moment later in the week to take the client’s detailed testimony (everything from her experiences in her country of origin to her life here in Uganda). If the problem does not fall within RLP’s mandate, I refer the client to another organization.

One of my passions as a law student has been community legal services, and I am certain that interacting with RLP’s clients will be the most rewarding aspect of my time here. Nonetheless, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for some of the stories I’ve listened to over the past two weeks. So while my first month has been largely devoted to settling into a new city, a new culture and a new workplace environment, I have also taken the time to step back and reflect on some the social and legal issues facing Kampala’s refugees. I look forward to sharing these thoughts in later posts.

*Internship undertaken with the financial support of the Government of Canada provided through the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA)

Adaptation Bis

ludo Par Ludovic Langlois-Therien

Déjà près d’un mois que je travaille à la CONGEH. Avec le temps, mon travail s’est précisé. Le Cameroun doit rendre son premier rapport concernant ses obligations selon le Pacte international des droits économiques, sociaux et culturels en automne prochain. La CONGEH, ainsi que d’autres organismes locaux œuvrant dans les domaines incidents aux droits du PIDESC, ont donc été sollicités par Habitat International Coalition pour produire un rapport parallèle, qui devrait vraisemblablement être présenté à Genève au même moment.

Le travail apparaît colossal pour un organisme à vocation communautaire tel que la CONGEH. Plusieurs défis se posent, notamment au niveau méthodologique. Par exemple, en ce qui concerne les normes statistiques à suivre dans la prise de données, les ONG camerounaises ont beaucoup de retard par rapport à leurs consœurs d’autres pays. Néanmoins, les superviseurs se sont relevé les manches et mettent présentement les bouchées doubles pour obtenir les ressources nécessaires au bon déroulement de l’étude.

J’espère vraiment que ce projet se développera autant qu’il le mérite. Notons qu’étant donné le statut embryonnaire des institutions inter-africaines des droits de la personne, le Conseil des droits de l’Homme de l’ONU demeure une des meilleures vitrines pour exposer les problématiques auxquelles je fais face présentement.

Et même s’il est pratiquement certain que le dépôt du rapport ne résultera pas dans une amélioration tangible de la situation des résidents des bidonvilles victimes d’abus, il permettra à la problématique de rayonner un peu plus…

D’autre part, je crois m’être résolu à l’idée que « l’adaptation » ne serait pas que l’affaire des premières semaines, mais bien la trame sous-jacente à tout mon séjour… L’autre jour, en revenant du travail, il y avait un attroupement dans la rue non loin d’où je loge. On entendait des gens crier et la foule était si compacte qu’il était difficile de seulement même passer. Curieux, je me frayais un chemin pour découvrir la cause de l’émoi : deux gendarmes et, à leurs pieds, un type qui gémissait dans une mare de sang, le visage complètement défait, les membres tordus. On m’apprit que la personne blessée était en fait un bandit qui avait tenté de forcer une voiture. La personne s’était fait rattraper par des badauds qui lui avaient « réglé son compte ». La police était débarquée à temps.

Avec une candeur déconcertante, d’autres gens m’ont dit que la pratique usuelle dans les cas de récidive allait jusqu’à asperger le présumé criminel d’essence, le mettre sous des pneus et le brûler vif. Carrément. Un ami voulait même me montrer une vidéo d’une de ces crémations populaires qu’il avait captée avec son téléphone cellulaire à Douala…

En fait, dans les quartiers excentrés, comme les forces de l’ordre ne sont pas toujours présentes, il semble que la justice du peuple est parfois une réalité aussi laide que nécessaire. Aussi, il reste que la criminalité est ici assez limitée; même en marchant seul au milieu de la nuit, je me suis toujours senti en sécurité, y compris dans les quartiers plus « chauds ». Cette nuit là, en me couchant, je me suis rappelé Surveiller et Punir et j’ai eu une petite pensée pour les Vincent Lacroix et autres Madoff de notre coin du monde…

Thank you very much!


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