 (The following blog post is written by Mallory Minter, IPHR's first international intern.)
In addition to touring Butare’s tribunal and police station this past week, I also attended a two-day workshop for vulnerable women. First things first – let’s define “vulnerable women”. IPHR uses this term to identify women who are single mothers, who are impoverished, who self-identify as depressed, and/or who simply have no family or close community to turn to. Metaphorically speaking, these women are swimming across the Atlantic Ocean with only one arm. This workshop, led by IPHR’s Yves and run in partnership with the Igiti Cy’ubugingo Center (the name roughly translates to “Tree of Hope”), seeks to educate women of their rights as they relate to family law, gender-based violence, and succession (aka – inheritance). For example, suppose you are a Rwandan woman. You are one of 10 daughters and your parents have died. According to Rwandan law, your parents’ assets will be split among all 10 daughters evenly, unless there is written documentation expressing otherwise. However, one of your sisters forges a document stating that the parents have selected her as the sole inheritor of their possessions. The court accepts this document and you no longer have the right to any of your inheritance. You are left with nothing from your family. This is the reality of one of the women who attended the workshop this past week. By teaching women about their legal/equal rights concerning issues such as marriage and inheritance, this workshop serves to empower women like this one. Furthermore, considering the fact that women in Rwanda only recently gained the legal right to inheritance in November 1999, many women are still unaware of what is legally entitled to them. Education initiatives like this workshop are critical to closing the human rights gap currently lying between both genders in Rwanda. The ultimate goal of this conference is to break the silence. In fact, at the end of the first day of this two-day workshop, Yves urged the women to speak out and spread the word. As Yves clearly stated (in Kinyarwanda – so I’m paraphrasing here): education is the strongest force to fight gender-based violence and is the only way to ensure that women fully exercise their equal rights.
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 (The following blog post is written by Mallory Minter, IPHR's first international intern.)
I spent this past week in Butare. At the beginning of the week, Raymond, one of the core lawyers with IPHR, and I traveled to the tribunal in Butare in order to offer free legal assistance to minors being tried for a crime (okay, Raymond was offering legal assistance; I was there to observe and learn). Unfortunately, the process for minors being tried will not begin until July 1st. So, we will return then for work. Nevertheless, the day was still a great opportunity to tour Butare’s tribunal and police station in order to get a sense of where things happen. So, that’s exactly what we did. And during our tour I was able to speak with Raymond and get a good understanding of how his work is organized. Raymond volunteers his legal services to minors (those under 21 years of age) who are accused of committing crimes. In this instance, IPHR works in collaboration with the Rwandan Ministry of Justice. Specifically, the Ministry of Justice organizes where lawyers will serve pro-bono. Having been assigned to serve the city of Butare, IPHR’s Raymond usually visits Butare once every 2 weeks and, on average, defends 10-12 minors per month. The process works like this: a minor is accused of committing a crime, the minor is arrested, and the minor is detained in the police station. From here, the minor is eventually brought to a prosecutor’s office where he is investigated and encouraged to admit to any crime he/she has committed. This is where lawyers, such as IPHR’s Raymond, steps in. Lawyers like Raymond offer much needed support to minors who are in an intimidating position and do not yet have the savoir-faire necessary to know how to handle the situation. Imagine: you are 11 years old and you have just been accused of a crime. The police arrive at your home, pull you away from your family and friends, and bring you to the police station all alone. After an indefinite amount of time in the detention center, you are put before a prosecutor who presents all the evidence against you and tells you that, if you confess, your sentence will be shorter. What would you do? Would you not feel helpless and afraid? Would you not strongly consider confessing to the crime you are accused of, just because it seems like the best/quickest way out? Lawyers like Raymond and others at IPHR provide minors with the emotional and legal support necessary to ensure that they are fairly tried and that they don’t commit themselves to further injustice. These lawyers offer legal advice to the minors when they are in the detention center, support the minors when they are brought before the prosecutor, and defend the minors in court. During our stroll through the streets of Butare, Raymond said that his favorite part about this work is when the minors are justly set free. “They are so happy!” he says. And, even though they do not have much money, they often offer Raymond a piece of bubblegum as a ‘thank you’ for being there.  (The following blog post is written by Mallory Minter, IPHR's first international intern.)
How the heck did I get here? That is my thought on Wednesday morning, as I walk down the halls of the Supreme Court wedged in between two convicts. The prisoner in front of me is very quiet and almost timid. And the one behind me – well, he is definitely the extrovert of the two. As we walk through the halls, he continues to joke with me about how he wants my English-French dictionary that he saw me pull out just moments earlier (the ironic part: when he first saw my dictionary, I had pulled it out just after meeting him in order to recall how to say the word “joker” in French). These two prisoners, enrobed in pink jump suits, are being retried for raping minors. On this Wednesday morning, Paulin, the Vice President of IPHR and a well-respected lawyer in Rwanda, volunteers to defend the timid prisoner described above. You see, this prisoner lost both of his parents at a very young age, has no family, and has no money. He has no external support except for what is being offered by IPHR. You may be wondering why this case was brought before the Supreme Court. This prisoner, who has confessed to raping a minor, has received a sentence of life in prison. However, according to Rwandan law, he may not deserve it. In the past, he has been tried as an adult for raping a minor – resulting in a sentence of life in prison (the minor was below 14 years of age). But there is strong evidence that he may not have been an adult at the time he committed the crime (two different sources of information are being used in court to determine the prisoner’s birth date; the birth dates identified by these sources differ by three years). If this is true – if he was a minor when he committed the crime — then his penal sentence will be drastically decreased. Reflecting on this case, I stumble over the ethics of it all. I have many thoughts about what is right and wrong (don’t worry; I’ll spare you of these thoughts for now). But, putting ethics aside for a moment, I am still struck by two things. First, I am struck by the remarkably generous nature of the lawyers in my organization – it is a great gift to offer your legal expertise for free to people who are otherwise defenseless against the law. Second, I am struck by the prominent need for such gifts. This last point leaves me both a bit astonished and dazed. Over the past two weeks, I have seen the need and demand for free legal assistance. I have also read many reports that demonstrate this need – such as the one by UNICEF that states that approximately 114,000 children were left without parents in 1994. However, as I recently relayed to a friend via email last night, I don’t have the full picture. I want to know the source of this need. I want to understand if it is related to events of the past and, if so, I want to know what that relation is. I also want to understand more about the present – for example, how is this need being addressed not just by IPHR, but by other government and non-government institutions? I still have a lot to figure out, but I know answers will come in time. I will certainly keep you updated. In the meantime, if you have any additional questions, please ask! It may take me a little while, but I promise to research and provide the best answers I can gather. (The following blog post is written by Mallory Minter, IPHR's first international intern.) This past Thursday (7 June), we plunged head-first into work. In the morning, I met with Raymond and Paulin, the Secretary General and Vice President (respectively) of IPHR. Immediately after saying our “hellos”, Paulin and I rushed off to the Office of Immigration to apply for the appropriate internship visa. Once all of the necessary documents were handed over to the Office of Immigration, Paulin and I took a taxi (a van that holds about 30 people and travels to and from established points; it’s much like an above-ground metro with a more flexible schedule) to one of the main bus stations located in Nyabugogo, Kigali. Here, I bought a ticket to Butare, hopped on the bus, waved goodbye to Paulin, and headed 2 hours and 15 minutes southwest to meet Yves. Once I arrived in Butare, Yves and I said our “hellos” and walked straight to the Legal Aid Clinic. The Legal Aid Clinic is a highly beneficial and much needed service in Butare. Founded by a member of the National University of Rwanda’s (NUR) Faculty of Law, Felicité Karomba, this Legal Aid Clinic provides Rwandans with free access to legal services. Many Rwandans travel for days to receive these free services – services that they would otherwise not be able to afford. When we arrived at the Legal Aid Clinic, located just behind NUR’s Faculty of Law department, the site that greeted me was a green, open field speckled with about 30 people sitting around – some waiting patiently under trees and others propped in desks, engaged in deep discussion. This Legal Aid Clinic, led by NUR and assisted by IPHR, is held in this same spot every Thursday, beginning at 2:00pm and ending whenever the last person is tended to – which may be well into the night. During the clinic, clients (i.e. – those who have traveled near and far to receive these legal services) present their concerns and are given free legal assistance by NUR 3rd and 4th year law students under the supervision of NUR’s Faculty of Law. Depending on the situation, clients may be referred to mediation, may receive physical legal representation in court or, if it is assessed that physical legal representation is not necessary, may receive aumwanzuro w’urukiko – a written submission of legal representation for the court (if the umwanzuro w’urukiko is not successful, the clinic will provide a lawyer to appeal the case in-person). When the procedure does not involve the court, the process usually takes a total of 10-15 days. During this time period, legal volunteers initiate the procedure, visit the ground (if necessary), hear all sides of the case, and advise accordingly. If the case must be presented before court, the procedure can take much longer since it is now at the mercy of the court’s schedule; for example, one case that was submitted on 7 June 2012 has received a court date for September 2012. As a partner of Butare’s Legal Aid Clinic, IPHR provides pro bono lawyers for in-court representation as well as provides specialized training in areas such as family law, succession, and land law. Judging by the large turnout every Thursday, this program is both highly valued and needed by the Rwandan community. This clinic is the only way Rwandans – many of whom are either poor, elderly, or are single mothers – can gain access to the justice system. However, one cannot forget the many other poor, elderly, vulnerable members of society who do not have the resources or the physical capability to travel to Butare’s Legal Aid Clinic. Remembering this, IPHR hopes to establish a Mobile Legal Aid Clinic in the near future that will travel all over Rwanda, serving those who would otherwise be neglected. I will write more on this later. For now, I’ll leave you with two things: (1) photos of the Legal Aid Clinic and (2) info about what’s next. For the photos, see below; these photos should give a good idea of how things work at the clinic. And as far as what’s next: this coming Monday (12 June) I’m headed back to Butare to observe how IPHR assists children with law assistance and legal representation. More to come on this. Turongera (until next time)!  |
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