The Office/internship (wouldn't want to be guilty of copyright infringement)

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This title is more appropriate than you might realize, as our boss often behaves like Michael Scott. This is another topic that will have to be predominantly detailed through email instead of this blog. I have yet to decide if I’m going to make this public, and since the Center for Legal Assistance (CELA) deals with various government offices, best to restrict what I post.
My colleagues are all very nice. There are 2 accountants, one projects manager, a projects assistant, 3 paralegals, and an office assistant (the one I mentioned earlier regarding the food). Most of them are in their early to mid twenties, except for the projects manager. I’m not sure how old Robert is.
CELA’s mission is “to contribute to the improvement of the justice delivery systems, protection of human rights and upholding rule of law in Malawi for the benefit of vulnerable groups by alternative dispute resolution, legal representation and enhancing accessibility through networking, publications, training, research and advocacy.” I cannot emphasize the networking piece enough. I’m pretty confident that we’re able to accomplish what we do because of Moira and Kalimwai’s relationships with different police officers and prison officials. Dave is working on a really interesting case involving a young boy accused of murder. Although he and Moira (his supervisor/paralegal) have been shuffled all over the place, I imagine that it would be even more difficult for one who doesn’t know as many people as Moira does. (The main problem with that case: Malawi doesn’t have a court system designed to deal with 12 year olds. Even the juvenile system doesn’t take cases for children under 14. He’s currently in a holding cell at a police station, and no one knows where to send him or what to do with him. The concern is that he’ll stay there until he can be tried as an adult, which is obviously years away.)
I’ve visited Maula prison, the largest in Malawi, with Kalimwai 3 times now. He’s very friendly with the chief officer, which is enormously helpful as we try to access prison records and the prisoners themselves.
I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t scared the first time I went there. Perhaps because Kalimwai and Nandi (another paralegal and our neighbor) were so relaxed, it made me think that going there was not a big deal. I’m not sure I would have the same reaction when visiting a US prison. Perhaps it has more to do with the design. You enter the main gate, which is manned by one or two guards. There are 3 sections on top of a little hill that divide the women, the men who have been merely charged with an offense, and men who have been convicted. You tell the convicts apart from the arrestees by their clothing. If you’ve only been charged, you wear street clothes. Female convicts wear blue and white vertical striped button downs and skirts. Male convicts wear white button downs and shorts/pants. Before you reach the detention centers, however, there’s an open kitchen to the right where the convicts cook. Last Wednesday was sports day, and there were convicts playing volleyball just inside the main (outside) gate, roughly 100 yards from the entrance of the detention section. If no one else minded convicts milling about, why should I.
When you approach the prison section, there’s one gate for the men’s side, one for the women’s side. After you pass through the gate, you can either walk straight which would lead you to the male convicts’ “quarters,” or you can go take the path that would lead you to the women’s side. Here’s my attempt at a diagram, as it’s nearly impossible to explain (and obviously I can’t take a picture. Cell phones aren’t even allowed in.) There’s a quarantine section for prisoners with TB and HIV, though considering a high percentage of the population has HIV, I imagine quarantine is only for those with AIDS or who are actually ill. Quarantine only serves to sequester them somewhat, since the only thing separating them from the main population is a wide-linked fence. The quarters themselves are like the other buildings: brick structures with about 6 open windows (no curtains in sight).
(My diagram wouldn't post, sorry.)
When we went for a Legal Clinic on the women’s side, Nandi and I sat on patio-type chairs in what appeared to be a long pavilion (the kind you’d see at a park). The prisoners then entered and sat on the cement floor below us as though it were story time at a local library. All of the were convicts, and none of them felt comfortable speaking in English. I managed to learn a few words and phrases in Chichewa so that I could ask their names, offense, and home village. As for their statements, Nandi had to translate for me. It was time to play poker. No matter what offense they gave, be it murder or burning a child, I couldn’t react. That (surprisingly) wasn’t hard. Nor was it difficult to keep a straight face as they shared their story with Nandi, since I didn’t understand any of it anyway. I sometimes slipped with a raise of the eyebrow (my prison tell, perhaps?) when Nandi would translate their story. Still, overall, not too bad.
Our task at the men’s side the first time was to search through files for expired remand warrants. Per the Constitution, an arrestee is to be brought for the equivalent of a preliminary hearing within 48 hours of arrest. After that, though, all bets are off. The next court appearance will be set for 2 weeks later, but that can be pushed back continuously for what amounts to months (perhaps even years, for all I know). We note the last court appearance and when they were to be remanded again. If the date has passed, we write up their information. What we do after that, I have yet to see.
This is all done in the guard house. There are flies everywhere, but surprisingly, we were not confronted by smells beyond BO. If you see pictures (TESSA – can you comment with the name of the photographer?), you’ll note prisoners sweeping what appears to be dirt. It is dirt, but it’s not as pointless an exercise as you may first suspect. There’s a fair amount of debris that accumulates not only in the prisons but everywhere. You sweep it into piles as though you were sweeping a hard surface. I can’t remember where the pictures were taken, but what you see is the same situation at Maula. Although I haven’t personally seen the quarters, I’ve seen the buildings from the outside. There are 2,100 people in a prison built for 700. They sleep on the floor, no blankets or pillows, side by side. Very reminiscent of the pictures we saw in school of slave ships. After a recent High Court ruling, they receive 3 meals a day, though many are starting to argue that because the lunch is so small, they’d rather forgo breakfast and instead have that food put to lunch. Before you start to think, “They’re prisoners, who cares,” keep in mind that there’s still a need for a touch of dignity, especially since the system is such that they’re undergoing tremendous hardship. Some are incarcerated for sentences that would blow your mind considering the offense, and the court system doesn’t exactly function as it does in the US or UK. I’ll save my speeches for another time.
During the most recent visit, Kalimwai interviewed an old man who is there for 30 days due to contempt of court. He looked like a cute grandfather; I wanted to wrap my arms around him and give him a big hug, but I managed to resist the urge. He’s there (amongst murderers, rapists, and who knows who else) for a property dispute. Though he walks just fine, he appears to have cataracts. He has a sweet toothless grin – thankfully Malawian food is all pretty soft. We listened to him for about 2 hours. By the time we left, others had formed a line outside the door, waiting to talk to us. Apparently this happens every time. Oh, side note: whenever a prisoner enters the guard house, he squats down. It’s a sign of respect practiced nationwide, though apparently it’s only really practiced in prisons and in villages.
Most of the cases we deal with involve employment; the first week certainly supported that. This week added a little variety. I’m currently working on what I had to call a domestic dispute for the sake of creating a general category. In fact, it deals with inheritance and child welfare. The complainant lost his mother 2 years ago. Within one week of her burial, his father had proposed to another woman. Now the father wishes to sell the property, but in Malawi, the children have an interest in the property since it was acquired while their parents were together. There’s also the youngest child, a teenager who contracted HIV at birth and has had TB 3 times in her young life. She came in the other day. She looks much younger than she is. The oldest is trying to stop the father from selling the property because he’s not taking care of his children. He’s doing this not for himself, as he’s independent and married, but for his youngest 2 siblings who are still minors. The father has reported him to the police, claiming he stole documents related to the house. The father has already abandoned the little girl and treats the only son living with him as an outsider. There’s more to the case, and it’s all heartbreaking. My biggest achievement of the week: convincing my attorney supervisor to take on the case.
Malawi is the opposite of the US when it comes to lawyers. There is a desperate shortage. My attorney, for instance, went to court this afternoon for a case involving the Vice President. And in the same day, he agreed to take on my little case. It should be interesting working with him. Unfortunately, since he works in a firm a few miles from where we are, I’m not sure how much I’ll actually get to work with him. Time will tell.

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