Seven months into their program to combat police torture and fight for human rights in the traditional courts Buhle Dube  and his team of JusticeMakers have started to look to the future.
After receiving an offer from the Mkhwanazi Attorneys to take on Hlengiwe Msibi’s case and observing a drop in reports of abuse and torture  the team is moving onto phase two.
Moving forward, Dube notes, does not mean that previously visited areas will be left behind.
“There is a booklet that carries all the presentations that have been made to them,” Dube explained. “What we’ll do will be to go back distribute these booklets to the very same communities and our interactions with them at that level will let us know if there has been an impact.”
Currently participating in a legal fellowship in the Hague, Dube has left the day-to-day operations to his second-in-command, Alfred Magagula, AMICAALL  Aids program coordinator for the Matsapha Town Board.

Alfred Magagula clarifies a point during a workshop with community police in Ngwenya. (Photo by Nicholas Loomis.)

According to Alfred the JusticeMakers will soon expand the scope of their activities.

“We are working on so many things for the second phase of this project,” Alfred said.

“For now the project is on the community police but it’s not the only focus it’s just that this has been the start.”

Alfred foresees the JusticeMakers expanding to tackle the issue of human rights at a national level.

Alfred Magagula leads a discussion during a workshop with community police in Ngwenya. (Photo by Nicholas Loomis.)

“Maybe the first activity will be to do a campaign on human rights nationally then it will make it much easier to even visit the prisons and the other holding centers,” Alfred said.

“If the whole community has a clear understanding of this concept it will be easier even for the prison authorities to allow us to teach the prisoners.”

Gugu Simelane gives a presentation on private arrest during a workshop with community police in Ngwenya. (Photo by Nicholas Loomis.)

To help the JusticeMakers achieve these ends Dube, and Alfred co-founded the Centre for Human Rights and Development, the rare Swaziland based human rights NGO.

Gugu Simelane, JusticeMakers communication intern, thinks Dube and the CHR are changing the culture and creating a new future for the country.

“You could actually say that it is training a new generation of lawyers in Swaziland,” Gugu said.

Gugu Simelane interacts with community members during a workshop in Matsanjeni. (Photo by Walker Gunning.)  

“I never thought I would end up in human rights before but I am looking forward to working for CHR. Then from there I want to go do my masters in the human rights realm.”

Gitega - Burundi. On Tuesday 7th July, following an invitation from Désiré Ntahomereye, a senior Judge whom we trained in Bujumbura, IBJ team headed to Gitega, Burundi’s second largest city. The purpose was to visit the prison and attend to a Court hearing. After a two-hour car ride in Burundi’s hills and luxurious vegetation, we finally reached Gitega prison. The severity of this big stone building built in 1926 presaged the hard living conditions prevailing inside. A strong police presence at the entrance caught our attention as we were lead to the Prison Director’s office.

The Prison Director, André Mbayabaya, whom we had trained in Bujumbura the previous week, was waiting for us. He called the Prison Chief of Security to check the security situation inside the prison. Nothing outstanding had been noticed in the early morning.

He then shared alarming figures: while the official capacity is 400, 1497 detainees are confined in Gitega. 566 detainees are men awaiting trial, 23 are women, and 37 are juveniles. In another word, more than 40% of the prison population had still not get a chance to appear before a Judge. More than 40% of the prison population is deprived of one of their most fundamental right, freedom.

As we walked in, with the Prison Director and the Chief of Security, I was strike to meet the exact same faces as in Mpimba. Faces of poverty, desolation and fear. Faces of young men in rags. As we entered, we immediately got surrounded by a crowd of about 300 hundred prisoners. This figure got bigger and bigger as we pursued our visit. Placed at each corner of the prison, armed wardens were watching the scene, amused, but always on the alert, in case something would go wrong.

The Prison Director brought us to the prison’s church, where a mass was taking place, attended by about 20 prisoners.

Above: Mass in the Prison’s Church, Gitega, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

We then went back to the main inner court where most male prisoners were standing; staring at us with at times anxiety, at times mockery. Young boys were running around us, among male convicted prisoners. As I pointed out to André that some of them looked very young, he said he intended to build a separate juvenile section, but had no resources to do so at the present moment. I remember seeing a young boy sitting in the big inner court, head in his hands, probably crying. It was impossible to leave the group to go and talk to him. The tempo of the visit was high, as the Director obviously didn’t want us to spend hours hanging around in the prison.

Above: A boy with the head in his hands, Gitega Prison, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

As we walked towards the women section, we passed by a small garden where prisoners grow crops, with the few resources they have. Surprisingly, the women section is a bit better off than the one in Mpimba. Contrary to the Central Prison, the women section is clearly separated from the men section. It is guarded by male wardens. The only time they have contact with male prisoners is when they go to the prison market to buy local food products. Even then, they are accompanied by guards.

The women were, once again, a bit more communicative than men. None of them spoke French nor English. Astère helped translate here and there. Lying on the floor, two women were making wicker baskets. The Prison Director explained that these are sold outside the prison. Some of the money directly goes to the prison, some to the workers. A bunch of young kids was playing on the floor. Most of them had spent their first 3 or 4 years with their mothers, growing up in the prison. They stared at us with curiosity. We then entered one of their bedrooms. It was very dark inside as there was not one single window. You could guess tired bodies resting here and there. All sorts of things were piled up in the room: old mattresses, mosquito’s nets, water bowls, cloths, etc. A young detainee explained that they were 30 women living in this room.

Above: Inside a women’s bedroom - Gitega Prison, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

As time was running out, the Prison Director urged us to get out of the prison. From the women section, we took a small path leading to the exit. We ended up walking 500 meters between the two main walls of the prison. They were incredibly massive: of several meters long buried into the soil, they are almost impossible to get over. Wardens beat there to make sure than no detainee escape. We nonetheless noticed a hole underneath the first wall. One week ago, a group of male prisoners had dug in the soil underneath the wall to try to escape. They got caught up and were brought to a special unit where they were isolated for three entire days. We also noticed that the sinuous path towards the prison exit was strewn over with used condoms.

Above: Between the walls of Gitega Prison, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

We left the prison with a weird feeling of not having enough time to explore the different corners of the prison and to really exchange with the detainees.

Above: From left to right: IBJ Burundi Fellow and Country Manager, Astère Muyango; IBJ Burundi Project Assistant, Jean-Baptiste Bouzard; Gitega Prison Director, André Mbayabaya; IBJ Africa Program Officer, Fanny Cachat; IBJ Summer Journalist, Laura Dix and Chief of Security of Gitega Prison. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

We then headed to the Tribunal de Grande Instance (TGI) where Judge Désiré was waiting for us. He greeted us with a lot of openness. He made us visit the inside of the tribunal, including the magistrates’ offices. I was surprised by the rudimentary conditions in which they carry out their mandate. They sit on bare wooden chairs and have not one single computer to work on.

Above: Inside the Gitega Tribunal, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

Désiré then invited us to assist to a Court hearing. Just on that day, the Supreme Court was temporarily displaced to Gitega. We assisted to a hearing where a land dispute between members of a same family - something common here - was been settled.

Above: A Supreme Court hearing in Gitega, Burundi. (Photo courtesy of Nathalie Mohadjer.)

After a lunch with André and Désiré and a quick visit to the local APRODH office, we decided to head back to Bujumbura. On the way back, we stopped at a Genocide Memorial where, in 1993, about 75 high school Tutsi students were abducted from school, locked in a gas station and burnt alive. Astère was particularly moved as he grew up in this very same high school. The memorial front reads: “Never again”.

Above: Astère and Fanny in front of the Memorial, near Gitega, Burundi. 

Last week, IBJ documentary journalist Danny Thiemann and I had the chance to visit two prisons in Divinopolis, Brazil, where IBJ Fellow Aziz Saliba is working on a legal justice awareness campaign. The first, Presídio Floramar, is an adult prison designed for 250 inmates, though it currently holds approximately 500. The second, Centro Socio-educativo, is a youth reeducation center that accommodates less than 50 people. Both are considered to be among the better prisons currently operating in the country.

Dr. Saliba is hoping to send his educational DVDs on the right to habeas corpus to the same prisons and the communities from where the inmates come from.

Captions written by Danny Thiemann and Michelle Ferng

Guards are posted outside a workroom at Presídio Floramar where prisoners sew uniforms for inmates across Brazil. Half the wages they earn are pocketed and the other half go towards maintaining the prison.

On the other side of the bars, prisoners work together in a common room.

A defense lawyer meets with her client. Many of inmates in Brazil are unlawfully detained yet unaware of their rights to habeas corpus, a legal action deterring the illegal imprisonment of themselves or another person.

Upon arrival at Presídio Floramar in Divinópolis Brazil prisoners are given a standard set of clothes and personal items. Individuality is far from encouraged in the adult prison, in contrast to the prison system for adolescents, where inmates between 12-18 are allowed to wear their own clothes.

A small team of professionals designs educational courses for math, reading and writing at Floramar Prison. As the picture shows classes have spotty attendance and most educational materials are re-used donated materials.

Prisoners are given time during the day to sunbathe in a courtyard at Floramar Prison in Divinópolis, Brasil. After being counted, they are allowed to move freely about the courtyard. Some chant, sing to themselves or talk with the guards, but they are on the whole much quieter than the inmates at the adolescent jail next door.

A man guards the Director of Security as he gives the IBJ team a tour of Floramar Prison in Divinópolis Brazil.

Prisoners are allowed an conjugal visit from a legally registered wife or husband every fifteen days.

From left to right: Director of Security Cabo Eduardo, Prosecutor Alessandro Garcia Silva, Prosecutor Carlos José e Silva Fortes, and Ms. Vanda, a lawyer who was meeting with clients at Floramar. The team gave IBJ journalists a tour of Floramar Prison.

A woman stands guard at Floramar Prison in Divinópolis, Brazil that holds both male and female inmates and employs both male and female guards throughout the prison.

Prisoners hang their laundry at Presídio Floramar in Divinópolis.

A woman at Floramar Prison in Divinópolis, Brazil receives some time alone in the same courtyard pictured above.

A woman looks out of her cell in Floramar Prison located in Divinópolis, Brazil. 27 female inmates are included amongst 373 male prisoners in a facility that is twice over capacity.

An inmate washes dishes in the kitchen at Floramar Prison. Administrative staff, guards, and prisoners all eat the same meal, which is prepared daily.

Racial stereotypes and racial profiling have long been issues challenging the penal systems in Brazil. In this photo a handcuffed inmate consults with his lawyer beside Floramar’s open courtyard — a rare exception, noted Dr. Saliba’s assistant, Cecilia Neves Silveira, to the race relations observed in most prisons.

General Director (right) and the Director of Security (left) at Floramar Prison, accompanied by a guard, consult in the main courtyard.


Meanwhile, across the street at the adolescent prison, a woman watches the cameras in the facility. Here, the staff is keen to reduce the presence of guards and relies more on recorded video for supervision.

A basketball court also serves as a soccer field for inmates. Administrative staff note that every time a soccer ball is shot over the prison walls, the inmates immediately go to work repairing it once the ball is retrieved because the state does not have enough resources to send new recreational materials.

An art room at Centro Socio-educativo displays inmates’ artwork, showing a range of subjects and inspirations.

A security guard tours the cells. Guards at this youth detention center do not use guns and are restricted in their ability to use physical force when enforcing compliance.

Prosecutor Carlos José e Silva Fortes extends his hand to reassure a young client at Centro Socio-educativo.

Imprisonment does not dampen the youthful spirits of inmates, as one young man reaches out spontaneously to pose for the camera.

“If the price of liberty is eternal vigilance, then the price of justice is continued legal literacy.”

 Photo Ian MacLellan

On Wednesday afternoons, Peter Onyango, a Justice Makers advocate and Rodney Oluoch , a CLEAR pro bono lawyer set out to provide legal training to inmates at Kibos Prison. For two hours, the prison’s small welfare office is transformed into a makeshift law school. Fourteen students in black and white stripped uniform crowd into the small room carrying notebooks and pens provided by CLEAR. The course runs March through August, providing prisoners with practical legal training so that they can advise fellow inmates and represent themselves in court.

In true teaching style, Peter removes his jacket and asks a prisoner to remind the class where they left off last week. “It is just satisfying doing such work. What we teach them will really help them, and it is satisfying to give people a little of what you know,” said Peter. “By going to prison we are able to bring justice closer to the people who do not have access to lawyers, to those who have been denied their freedom, and who the system will never consider differently.”

Having taught the prisoners how to prepare the documents required to mount an appeal, today’s lesson addressed the procedure of an appeal hearing. The inmates questions challenge even the advocates at times. Some cite clauses by number, requiring Peter and Rodney to flip through books on Kenyan law before responding.  One prisoner has developed a new line of argument to challenge the robbery with violence charge, and the room breaks into discussion as prisoners and advocates alike test the idea.

The inmates are serious students. With limited access to law books, they have begun to transcribe the criminal procedures code by hand and hold group discussions to prepare for hearings. Many prisoners are capital offenders, convicted of either murder or robbery with violence which carries a mandatory death sentence, and will likely live and die in prison. Their only hope is to mount a successful appeal.

Peter and Rodney advise prisoners on how to prepare their documents, developing lines of argument, and representing themselves well in court. The Court of Appeal - Kenya’s highest court is very careful when confirming or dismissing a sentence. The rules are highly technical and the courts unsympathetic, so knowing the law - and how to argue it, can make all the difference.

The Kibos program is supported directly by the International Bridges to Justice - JusticeMakers grant which funds transport and material costs.   

Dedicated CLEAR staff Dennis Okore and advocate Peter Onyango braved the afternoon heat last Friday as they waited for permission to enter Kodiaga prison, Kisumu where CLEAR is providing free legal aid to prisoners. CLEAR has been visiting Kodiaga prison each Friday for the past two years, however securing permission to enter the prison is a weekly ordeal.

Kodiaga is one of four maximum security prisons in Kenya, and guards at the prison are rotated many times throughout the day. Although CLEAR has secured clearance from senior prison officials, poor coordination means that these orders rarely reach the prison gates. As a result, CLEAR staff encounter a new guard each week and are interrogated each time they enter.

“It is so discouraging, the challenges we face. The change of guards, the system, the structure, it’s just cumbersome,” said Peter. “There are times when you might go and come back without ever seeing them. But we don’t give up, this is the work and if we don’t do it no one will.”

While the delays are frustrating, senior prison officials are welcoming of CLEAR’s activities and a room has been set aside for legal education. Peter had asked to meet with only 10 prisoners, but over 20 filed into the small room. CLEAR’s weekly visits are a rare opportunity for prisoners to speak with an advocate to receive legal counsel as well as assistance contacting friends and relatives.

“Being a laymen, I thank them. We have a lot of ignorance and we don’t know our rights. Through their advice we are able to bring our cases to trial,” commented a prisoner. ”The most important thing is the duration which our cases stay in court. In our constitution we are told that we have a right to an expedient trial. Some of us are here for 4 good years and that duration is too much.”

Remand prisoners may wait months before receiving their time in court, and with repeatedly adjourned hearings, years may pass before they are found innocent or guilty.

One prisoner describes how he was arrested with 27 other men in a police raid 3 months ago. He has committed no crime, but has been ‘bonded to keep peace,’ an open ended charge leveled against anyone authorities find troublesome. He can secure his release by paying a bond of 100,000 shillings, or by finding someone to stand surety on his behalf. With no immediate relations and owning nothing more than his clothes, he cannot afford to post bail and will likely remain in prison indefinitely. Peter has written a letter to the court magistrate asking for the bond price to be reduced and made affordable.

While CLEAR staff try to assist inmates to the best of their abilities - taking on three new cases after this visit alone - the number of cases are too great and resources too few. However, Peter and Dennis will continue visiting the prison in order to bring justice closer to those who have the least access to it.