Another Post from Paris

Every day I come into work, it seems that the world has changed a little more, and I must revise the report I am preparing for the 2008 IT Outlook. Due to the nature of my project, the subject of my research is in constant flux. I feel like I am living on the cutting edge of the technological world as I continue to research the newest developments in the ICT industry and attempt to frame them in a way that will make sense, and will be valuable, to the many policy makers who will be reading my piece once it is published. Although I often wish I were more at the heart of things, doing substantial work rather than simply reporting on what others have done, there is something refreshing about working for an organization like the OECD, and knowing that what I do helps the reality of the world percolate up to those who are currently in a position to recognize trends and embrace change.

The past few weeks have been a bit trying--when I first started at OECD, I had two bosses, both of whom were very friendly, but which made me feel a bit uncertain about who to report to, and how to prioritize the tasks I was given. Since then, one of them has gone on paternity leave(congrats on your baby, Sacha!), and the other, a few weeks later, on vacation. Since last Monday, I have been totally unsupervised, as not only my bosses, but at least half of the OECD staff has gone on a month long break that occurs virtually everywhere in Paris during the month of August. Finding my own direction and continuing to produce my paper without the support of those far more knowledgable than me has been an interesting experience, but so far I feel confident that I'm on the right path towards completing my project. For all the long hours and constant revisions, it's nice to reflect and realize that I'm getting something done.

For those of you who prefer visual stimulus to mere words, here's a picture of La Défense(where the OECD offices are) as seen off in the distance, from my apartment. At the end of a long day, it seems somehow fitting that all I see when I look out my window is the place I work.

Ban Ki Moon

In one of my earlier posts, I promised to post pictures. Here is one of them.

During Koffi Annan's term, he made sure to set aside time to speak with all 200 interns working for the different UN departments. The new Secretary-General, Ban Ki Moon, has decided to continue with this tradition.

I won't even attempt to describe where I am located in the picture! In any case, the picture includes all UN interns for the summer, 5 of whom work for my division.

See: http://iseek.un.org/webpgdept1320_9.asp

An Afternoon in Kolkata

I meander back from work one day, pausing at a bookseller’s one room shop. It smells like an old library and I’m attracted to the faded volumes lining the dark wood shelves. A boy carrying an oversized teapot steps in behind me. He is delivering the afternoon “fix” to the neighborhood shopkeepers. The graying bookseller switches on the fan and asks me if I’d like chai. I say yes and the boy hands me a tiny clay cup of steaming liquid. I slowly browse through the books, admiring worn editions of Indian poetry and classic British novels.

Back on the street with a new book in hand, the acrid, polluted air hits me as the traffic rumbles by. Horns blare. Pop music emanates from a street stand. Rickshaws rip past. Bus attendants lean from doorframes and shout out destinations. The cacophony surrounds me.

I look ahead and a group of men are staring at me. It’s disconcerting. I look down. But then I look up because looking down makes me feel dominated. I look past them, making sure not to catch their eyes. A female traveler once told me that in India acknowledging a man’s lascivious gaze might be interpreted as a come on. And with the prevailing belief among uneducated men that western women are unusually promiscuous, I try not to contribute to the fallacy. “Hello, gorgeous” one says laughingly as I walk past.

I came here because I’m annoyed so many women are violated and enslaved. I didn’t realize that the complex societal fabric that fosters female sexual exploitation would, to a certain extent, turn on me. It’s not like anything horribly traumatic has happened, but it's the sensation of having a group of men look you up and down, saying comments to each other, leaving you feeling undressed and dirty. It’s sitting on a bus and having the man three seats ahead of you turn around to leer at you. It’s walking along the sidewalk and having a man approach you from behind to say something lewd. It’s wanting to yell at them for being so barbaric, but knowing it would probably only humor them. And unfortunately my experience isn’t uncommon; I have talked to a number of other western females who have been hassled far worse.

I’m lost in my anger, trying to remind myself that most men here are respectful, when a child clad only in underwear pulls on my shirt. Telling myself that some adult probably forces him to beg, I ignore him as he clings to me for a few steps. But then I realize he is just reaching for my water bottle. So I hand it over and he gulps it down.

I keep walking, attempting to absorb this contradiction that is Kolkata. Not only is it beyond understanding, it’s the kind of place that throws you off balance and makes you question your assumptions about life. But that is not exactly a bad thing. In fact, if the heat were not so mind numbing, I’d say it’s a fresh breeze freeing my thoughts of the monotony I let myself become trapped in when at home.

I turn and walk up the steps of Barista. Inside I might as well be in Starbucks. It’s the same corporate furniture, omnipresent logo, sterile environment, completely devoid of character and yet disarmingly comforting. Listening to the familiar harmony of espresso being made and milk being steamed, I sit in an armchair and peer out of the large glass window. It occurs to me that the majority of people in view will never sit where I am sitting or taste the luxury of a blended iced coffee like the one I’m sipping on.

India is too difficult for generalizations, and for every observation I make, I know it is true for other cultures, but somehow life here seems intensified, the contrasts more dramatic. Thousands of families live on sidewalks. Some sleep in makeshift tents, others on mats exposed to the night air. Their children play with the neighborhood street kids and bathe using public water taps. They cook on open fires, wash dishes on curb edges, and might collect garbage to earn a few rupees. When the rains come and it floods, they grab their meager possessions and wait until the water recedes. Then they “rebuild.” Behind the walls that line the sidewalks, people live in tall, guarded apartment buildings, have drivers and servants, buy designer clothing and attend art openings.

I’m struck by the proximity of it all. At home we have disparity, but it’s displayed differently. So who is handling it best? Are they…for accepting the inequality and forcing themselves to witness and live amid the diverse paths life takes us? Or are we… for gentrifying and sequestering our poor off in projects?

Hmm…well, I come into this with my own perspective, and as a result will leave with my own opinions. Probably wrong, but at least obtained through the experience.

-------------------

As for photos, here are some random ones around town, mostly of the colonial architecture.








Victoria Memorial


The following are photos my husband took when he came to visit:

Twelfth of July

Upon my arrival back in Belfast after several days in Dublin, I had the unique opportunity of witnessing the festivities of the 12 of July, mainly celebrated the Protestant commnunities here to commorate the William of Orange's victory over the the Catholic James VII in the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. While for the Protestants, this event serves as a self-affirmation of their cultural pride and UK roots, the Catholic communities see this as little more than a provocative reminder of their subjugation to English rule. As a result, it has not been uncommon for civil unrest to take place during this date.

Given the troubled history of this holiday, I was curious to check out the festivies for myself. While the parades that start off the day's activities have been greatly sanitized to appeal to a wider audience, some of the events, such the large bonfires attended by many drunken youths that sprout up throughout neighborhoods such as Annadale and the Shankhill, unfortunately still retain some of the intimidating atmosphere that has long characterized life in this city for both communities. Although efforts are currently being made to make the 12 of July more inclusive and family-friendly to all, it's quite clear that much more needs to be done before this can happen.

A Moroccan National Murdered Last Year in Detroit

I recently had the experience of trying to help a Moroccan man track down information on his brother's murder investigation. His brother was living and working in Detroit. He was murdered last year. Since that time, the murder victim's family in Morocco has received little to no information from either the Moroccan Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Moroccan Consulate General of New York, or the Detroit Police Department. They were actually only originally contacted after the death through the murder victim's friends in Detroit who had realized that their friend had been murdered. Granted, the Moroccan family's English language skills are practically nonexistent, but I expressed my dismay that they hadn't received more help from the Moroccan consulate. The Moroccan brother explained to me that an individual death, even by murder, just isn't treated with the same care and concern in Morocco as it would be in the United States. He told me that the Moroccan consulate had only agreed to help transfer the body back to Morocco after the family went to the press. The friends of the murder victim had been trying to raise money in Detroit in order to send his body back to his family.

We were able to track down and obtain the police report through the Victim Services Department of the Detroit Police Department, but it took some time as the murder victim's Arabic name had been bungled miserably. We were also able to track down some Arabic, English, and French speaking lawyers through an Arab American institution in Michigan who may be able to help this man and his family.

But, what I found most interesting throughout this process, was the difference in perceptions of the police force, the government, lawyers, and public institutions in general. It seems to me that Moroccans in general have an inherent distrust of the police and of public institutions. Even public institutions with the obvious intent of assisting them. This is a problem which OMDH has encountered time and time again during their investigations and fact finding missions and in interviewing victims of human rights abuses -- the victims are afraid to reveal too much, afraid to accuse, afraid to name abusers and agressors, afraid to implicate themselves in anyway, afraid of making themselves an easy target for retribution by the police and the government.

I found this to be absolutely true in trying to interview and obtain information from this man whom I was trying very hard to help. I became frustrated, and a cultural divide became apparent. This man had traveled to Rabat specifically to speak with myself and another American intern, just because he had heard that two English speaking interns were working at a human rights organization -- OMDH. I had to be incredibly patient, win his trust, and go over the details multiple times, in order to make sure that I had received the complete story. During subsequent interviews, he would reveal vital pieces of information, and I couldn't believe that he hadn't already told me this information in a prior interview. He was very wary of speaking with a lawyer -- he wanted to discuss the possibility with his family first, even though I explained the concept of confidentiality. He was very wary of talking to the Detroit police department via an interpreter, even though I felt that he had important information which might help the police in their ostensibly stalled investigation. The entire process was fascinating, and it made me realize that government, legal, and police protections, which I take for granted in the US, not to say that our legal system and/or government and/or police force are perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but that this man does not enjoy that same degree of trust in his police force and government, that he actually fears his police force and government -- the institutions which should be operating on his behalf and protecting his interests.

Violence Towards Women in Morocco

I was recently able to attend a conference on violence directed towards women in Morocco. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely in Arabic -- I mean, unfortunately for me, since my Arabic is limited to a handful of everyday phrases. However, fortunately, there was a woman who was kind enough to whisper a French translation in the back of the room, and all of the foreign interns without Arabic skills, including myself, were huddled around her, listening intently.



The thing that struck me the most about the content of the final report on the subject, produced by a national network of centers for female victims of violence, was the way in which the concept of violence was defined and categorized. The different forms of violence recognized in the report included physical, sexual, but also psychological, judicial, and economic. Not having access to the court system in order to obtain legal reparations was considered to be a form of violence against women. Men withholding money from their wives in order to elicit whatever behaviors was considered to be a form of violence. From my viewpoint, this seemed to be a really different way of looking at the issue. I think, for the most part, that we think of violence towards women in the US strictly as physical and sexual abuse. In the US, in my opinion, we don't think of economic violence as a form of violence, since this concept would jeopardize our hypercapitalistic, dog eat dog economic system. Having grown up in an abusive home, I know what an impact the treat of economic retribution can have on a woman's decision to leave or to stay.

The other evening, I had the most wonderful and interesting experience. I was invited into the home of a Moroccan family for the evening. The mother, around 60 years of age, in traditional Moroccan dress, sat aside her 27 year old daughter, in jeans and a t shirt, watching a pussy cat dolls video on the television. The mother had raised six children -- she had given birth to eight, and most of her children are now living in France, where they were also educated. Her oldest is about 45, her youngest, 27.

She told me that she had been married via an arranged marriage when she was twelve. Her father had decided to marry her off, and she had had no say in the matter. She said that her mother and her sisters cried and begged and pleaded with her father not to marry her off, but to no avail. She told me that she was terrified. Her future husband was about 10 years older than herself. She told me that she was expected to have sex with her husband as he wished, as well as to cook and clean and take care of the house. She said that she didn't know how to cook, and that her husband beat her as a result. Her sister had to come live with her for awhile to teach her how to prepare tajine and cous cous. She had her first child at 15. I was struck at how honest and open she was. And, she told me all of these things within earshot of her husband. At 70, he was now about half her size, and seemed tiny and frail to me. He was kind to me, but spoke little to nothing.

I asked her what she thought of the women parading around half naked in music videos. She told me that she thought it was fine for this modern period in time, but that if she were that age, she would be too shy to do as much. The mother started to cry, and said something in Arabic, and I was terrified that I had offended her in some way, that I had taken more than enough time to breathe between bites of tajine, but, no. The daughter told me that her mother cried, because she thought that I had the face of a Muslim. I took this to be a great complement. One is constantly exhorted to eat, eat in a Moroccan home. I ate until I thought I would be ill, and then I had to stop. Moroccan cuisine is fantastic. A visitor to Morocco will never go hungry, because everyone wants to feed you.

Later, the daughter and I slept in one salon, and her parents in another nearby. They chatted and laughed and spoke in Arabic well into the night. The daughter joked with me about her elderly parents, "the lovers chit chat." I asked the daughter about what she thought about her parents relationship. She told me that they still love each other very much and that they are very happy together. She said that her mother held no grudge about the beatings early in their marriage. She said -- "time passes."

This family situation is very typical of Morocco, I think -- the blending of old and new, traditional and modern, accepting of new social mores for the younger generations while the older generations still maintain the traditions. But, the daughter still hid any pictures of herself with her boyfriend in the pillows of the couch in the salon. She was on the pill, but her mother was not aware that she was having sex. But, she had made her boyfriend wait two years before they had begun an intimate sexual relationship. All of these contrasts in juxtaposition are what make Morocco so fascinating.

A Great Loss for Morocco and for Human Rights

I was very privileged and honored to be able to attend a ceremony this past Friday evening to celebrate the life and the 40th day after the death of a great Moroccan human rights leader, Driss Benzekri. The 40th day after the death of a Muslim is a very important day, because it it the day that one's soul ascends to heaven to reside with Allah. It was a beautiful and majestic ceremony -- extremely inspiring and moving. The Prime Minister of Morocco spoke. Many human rights lawyers and leaders from all over the world were in attendance and also spoke about the numerous accomplishments of Monsieur Benzekri. It was held in the Mohammed V theater in central Rabat. I will post some photos of the ceremony soon.

I was pleasantly surprised by the forcefulness of some of the speeches. There were some speeches in which the speakers demanded that the government do more to protect freedom of speech, of the press, of association, even in the face of terrorism. Some speakers also spoke to the results of the Equity and Reconciliation Commission, a commission meant to address gross human rights violations committed within Morocco during the reign of the current king's father, Hassan II, between 1956 and 1999. Driss Benzekri was the President of the Commission. Some are demanding that the government do more, since the commission did not allow the victims of the human rights violations to name their abusers. None of the abuses could be attributed to Hassan II. And, no current violations, during the reign of the present king, Mohammed VI, could be addressed. The reparations resulting from the commission tended to provide funds and resources on a community level. The trial did allow victims to voice their experiences. It is now a matter of public record -- that these events occurred, which is a positive step forward, but, on Friday evening, there was a French human rights lawyer in particular, who really derided the government for not allowing the victims to name their abusers. Morocco has laws condemning torture, and Morocco has also ratified the UN Convention Against Torture, but the laws are just not being applied as they should, especially with the crackdown on terrorism, and a lot of people just simply don't realize that it's not ok for the police to beat you.

Driss Benzekri spent 17 years in prison as a political dissident. He was also the Vice President of the organization with which I am working this summer, OMDH, the Moroccan Organization of Human Rights. He was the Secretary General of the Advisory Council on Human Rights which led to the establishment of the Equity and Reconciliation Commission. He continued to work for human rights until his death on May 20, 2007, in Rabat. He had been ill. He was only 57 years old.

It was really wonderful to see so many people attend this ceremony and to be able to be a part of it. There was a lot of love and hope and camaraderie in the room. I will post pictures soon.

Sacre-Coeur, 23 June 2007

I just wanted to share this picture.

Dublin holiday

I'm currently spending the week in Dublin finishing up a couple of summer courses. Ok, that doesn't really have much to do with my work at the CAJ in Belfast other than the fact that the time spent here provides a somewhat useful basis for comparison of the social development of the two cities, particularly for non-Irish folks. First impressions are important and this instance was no exception. Whereas Belfast was subdued and homogenous, Dublin was vibrant and diverse. The impact of this difference was jarring both for my traveling companion and myself. Inevitably after such an experience, I began to examine why this was the case. Although Dublin's properity did not surprise me, Belfast was in the middle of a development boom and experiencing an unprecedented level of growth and stability. After extended conversations with some Irish citizens both from the North and South, the only answer that I could sadly come up with is that old habits die hard.....
Despite much optimism amid a new and more equitable political framework, a certain unease, left over from decades-old bad memories, pervades the mentality of the average Northern Irish citizen. For Belfast residents, a need for security is paramount and closing up shop at 6pm and going home is a small price to pay in order to achieve this. Of course, such practices come at the price of vibrant street life on evenings and weekends, this giving the city a distinctive melancholic tinge at those times. Hopefully, this will not always be the case as the Belfast residents deserve clearly deserve better.

Rabat, Morocco

This is Sarah Braasch writing to you from Morocco. I am working for a great organization -- the Moroccan Organization of Human Rights (OMDH) -- in Rabat. I couldn't be happier with my internship. Everyone is so kind and helpful here. I am working with another American intern, Caitlin Steinke, on a terrific project. Caitlin is an undergraduate at Connecticut College. We're developing a network of young human rights lawyers in Morocco to handle the onslaught of police brutality and torture cases which OMDH receives constantly. We're seeking funding, developing a training program for the lawyers, as well as an advocacy program for the police and the public. We're also creating an online forum / network, which we're looking to take international. Speaking of police brutality -- every night there is a demonstration in front of the parliament building, which occasionally gets out of hand, but is, for the most part, relatively peaceful. The group protesting is composed of young people with graduate and professional degrees and training who cannot find work. I took several pictures, and I'll post a few.

Separately, I am also studying the recent revisions to the family code, the mudawana, as well as the nationality code. I am terribly interested in the impact on women's rights, and the effect, generally, of the existence of a state religion, and, specifically, Islam. There have been a lot of exciting developments recently with respect to women's rights in Morocco, and I am fascinated by the dynamic between this push towards modernity and Islamic Law.

My French improves each day. While I read and write well, my speaking French was a little shaky at first. I am also trying to pick up as much Arabic as possible.

Morocco is beautiful, and the people are wonderful. So welcoming and kind and hospitable. The men are a little aggressive -- which took some time to get used to -- but now I feel comfortable and know how to handle myself pretty well. I've made it a point to talk to as many people as possible. The young people in particular are incredibly open and more than happy to discuss any subject, be it politics, religion, cultural and social mores, the war in Iraq, etc., etc..

That's all for now folks. More from Morocco later. Ma'asalama.

June 20 is World Refugee Day

Today is World Refugee Day. There are 40 million people who have been forced from their homes by war-- not to mention the many more that have fled for other reasons. To experience displacement ever so briefly, through the eyes of our clients, is harrowing, sad, exhilirating and powerful. The eyes that touched me those first days of work are now ones that recognize me and have learned to say hello in English. Her parents, I now consider my friends. Her baby sister is still intrigued.

In my third week of work, I have come to appreciate the stories I have heard. As I sometimes must try to maneuver my Chinese and they, their English, I often wonder what would possess a 15 year old to swim across a river, or walk across a border to get away from what they know to be home. What makes them strong enough to survive being sold into marriage, or years of imprisonment and still have a smile on their face? I guess for the stories I hear, there is in some ways a happy ending-- that through it all, they are the ones who have reached their destination. A new hope for the future.

But for the many millions more, their stories are still being made- they live in tents, they don't know whether they will be caught, deported, and even killed. They can't be sure where their next meal will come from and whether their children will be able to go to school. So it continues- they struggle with the unknown, with instability, and as they wait, they merely continue to live.

Bon Soir from Paris

It's been far too long since my last post, but I've been so absorbed at work, and at play, trying to live the life of a Parisian, that I've almost come to think that the world I left behind in NYC is simply an illusion.

But to snap back into reality for a moment--here is a glimpse into my life:

The OECD(http://www.oecd.org) has been amazing to work with. It is a truly ideal setting, with an enormous staff of inspired, forward-thinking, internationally diverse, and talented individuals. There is a true sense that we are all working towards something great--despite wide divergence on the subject matter and focus within the different directorates and divisions of the organization. The building is located in la Défense, the major business district just outside of the city proper--an area of looming glass skyscrapers and modern art surrounding a plaza that looks like something out of a science fiction movie. Each day I work among the throngs of Parisian businessmen(and women!), the center of Paris' economic life and the locus of its productive workforce--a purposefully constructed business district which is far more focused than in any other city I have every visited.


I have been placed in the Science, Technology, and Industry Directorate, in the Information Communications Technology division, one of the larger divisions within OECD. The division is responsible for tracking and analyzing the worldwide progress of technical development, and what firms, governments, and universities are doing in the field. I am working on the IT Outlook 2008--which is a biannual report detailing a wealth of data on the ICT industry and is one of the preeminent primary sources for statistical data in the field as well as an invaluable, and influential, tool for policy makers. My assignment right now is twofold--I'll be writing a module in the ITO that examines the emerging technologies that are currently being researched worldwide, and what their impact will be, especially in the developing world. A subsection of this module will be a report on the advancements in 'green' technology, and this will likely also be developed into a standalone paper a bit more in-depth than what will be published in the ITO. So far, it's been research, research, research, and while it's very challenging, it's incredibly stimulating--and quite intriguing to think that the work I'm doing now may have an impact on future policy.

Besides work, Paris has been treating me well--I bought a motorscooter so I can get around like a Parisian(i.e. very fast, and always *this close* to being run over by a taxi). I've managed to visit quite a few of the city's amazing parks, including the gorgeous Parc des Buttes Chaumont. I'm enjoying the free time of summer by going running everyday in the nearby Parc Monceau. I spent an amazing evening with two Canadians and an Australian who were passing through Paris, sitting on the steps of La Basilique du Sacré Coeur, drinking red wine and listening to the musicians who bring their guitars there every night. Sadly, however, my own guitar did not make it to Paris in one piece. It was completely destroyed when British Airways finally delivered it to me a day and a half late. The pictures are too frightful to post. However, that devastating turn of events quickly became an opportunity for me to visit the famed Rue de Douai, near Pigalle, an amazing street in the heart of Paris with guitar shop after guitar shop--literally over 30 of them within less than a kilometer. A guitar lover's paradise. I bought myself a new one, and I can happily report that there is nothing quite as enjoyable as playing a guitar on a park bench in Paris in the summer.

Finally, I've made friends with a group of French students who have all just finished lycée. They are helping me with my French and I'm helping them improve their already impressive English. Last weekend, they took me to an enormous outdoor fête at Parc du Champ-de-Mars, the large greenspace below and behind la Tour Eiffel. Tens of thousands of French high school students gathered there, drinking, singing, shouting, dancing, and generally partying-hard as they celebrated the end of le bac, the high school exit exam. It was incredible. That night, I also managed to perfect my French accent on the phrase "Ouru de vous rencontre," or "Nice to meet you," as I moved around the crowd and shared in the massive jubiliation of the Parisian youth until early in the morning.

This is, in a nutshell, my Paris experience thus far, and I eagerly await more. To Leitner scholars and dear readers--be well. À bientôt.

Saludos from Zapópan, Jalisco, México

Hola todos! I've been meaning to contribute to this blog for a while, but my laptop took a dislike to Mexico early in my trip and crashed, so my internet access has been touch and go. I am working at an organization called Acortar Distancias, http://www.acortardistancias.org/, which serves people living in the poorest neighborhoods in the outskirts of the city of Zapópan, which borders Guadalajara, Mexico. In addition to working at Acortar Distancias during the days, I am happy to be taking an evening class on human rights law at the Universidad Panamericana in Guadalajara. This has been a great way to meet people and to study some of the topics that animated me to go to law school in the first place.
Guadalajara is one of the wealthiest, most modern cities in Mexico, and so the contrast between the excess and extreme poverty is startling and impossible to ignore. I spend a good amount of my commute time each day trying to make sense of this dichotomy as the bus bumps its way from the middle class neighborhood where I am living to the neighborhoods where I work, where the architecture of the houses can best be described as forts scattered amid the city's garbage dump.
I haven't done any sightseeing yet, but I´m taking in the city during the course of my adventures to visit judges and jails each day with the lawyers in my office. Most of the clients in the neighborhood where we work are abused women, people who are the victims of exorbitant interest rates and unconscionable contracts (think 2-wheel corp. times 10) and people imprisoned without a fair trial.
In the last week, we started our summer "campaña" which is a 6 week-long push to alert the people in the community around our center to their legal rights and to process extemporaneous birth certificates and identification cards for the people who don't exist according to the State. This campaign involves going from house to house and talking with all the people about their rights and needs of their families. So, I've been doing the work of a social worker. Ideally, I´d be trained to handle the kinds of sensitive issues that I come upon in every doorway, but what is needed above all is someone to show some compassion and to treat the people with dignity. For example, this morning I tapped my 5 peso coin on a piece of metal fence post long enough that a little girl crawled out from under a blanket/tent like structure to see what the gringa with the sunglasses wanted with her family. She let me in and I was introduced to 9 children under age 12 - all brothers and sisters huddled together under a blanket. None of them goes to school, the mother works all day, and the father is not in the picture. It wasn't a moment to act like a lawyer, so i sat down and began talking to the children about how they spend their days, how strong the sun is here, what the streets of New York look like. When I left, I made note in my log that the professional social workers in Acortar Distancias would have to return to this family. Although I am witnessing horrible injustices in this work, I find it incredibly life-giving to meet wonderful, generous people in the midst of such poverty. It's beautiful to see that they have faith in God despite the fact that the dogs in Manhattan live in far more comfort and dignity than they do. Almost every dwelling, no matter how poor, has an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe in the entrance, and it helps me to keep presence of God as I make my way through the trash and the signs of life. I'm also grateful to find motivation to continue in the legal profession because I see that, poco a poco, the lawyers I work with are improving the lives of the people in the community.

Thanks all for posting. Keep up your good work and let's not forget these experiences as we choose our career paths in the next 2 years.
-Monica Brown

Kolkata Daze

Tonight, while watching a cloudy sunset from the balcony of my guesthouse and listening to the medley of cawing crows and chanting coming from a nearby religious service, I thought about how I could concisely verbalize my experience in Kolkata (Calcutta) thus far. I can’t.

I spent the afternoon at a shelter in the Kidderpore red-light district. It’s run by Apne Aap Women Worldwide, the NGO I’m interning with. To look at it, you could not tell it is a place of refuge. On either side of the alley that marks its entry, stood women waiting for their next client. They looked at me curiously as I approached. I smiled. They smiled. I wondered what they were thinking…how they viewed me walking into their world.

A world best classified as hell. Every night, hundreds of women waiting. Man after man. And rape when the women would rather say no. Filthy mattresses. A shared shower to wash away despair that must never disappear. Escape mostly impossible. Some young girls even in cages until they are seasoned to the lifestyle. Nine year olds neither uncommon nor the youngest. A price over their head that they are working to pay off but because of their helplessness lingers on indefinitely. Unimaginable. And yet true.

Following Reena, the woman showing me around, I walked down the littered alley into a dark doorway and up paan-stained stairs. On the second level, we were greeted by a group of excited, young girls. We sat on the cement floor in a circle, or rather, in a circle around me. I smiled and laughed as they practiced their English and pointed to their drawings on the wall. And then they laughed at me when I tried pronouncing their names.

In the corner of the room sat a pile of blankets for when the kids return to sleep at the shelter while their mothers “service” customers. Not all kids in the red-light district are fortunate enough to be sent to classes and a crèche at night. These kids’ mothers are hoping to break the cycle that is only so common to prostitutes and their daughters.

It’s hard to comprehend being in a red light district of Kolkata, looking at the playing kids, the waiting women and the men who nonchalantly walk by. I can’t quite grasp it, and I suppose the reason why is that it makes no sense. There is no justification for why these women are oppressed and enslaved.

Enough depressing realities…here are some photos around town. They are random and not really representative. Next time I promise to take some of the amazing colonial architecture, covered in grime and with the plaster peeling and chipped. Their dilapidated conditions strangely seem fitting though; the buildings that have been restored seem a little too ostentatious and emblematic of a time gone wrong to be amid this chaotic city.


Interior of a bus

Where I buy fruit






Not all of my days here are spent in the shelter. I have been asked to write a proposal on how India should adopt legislation similar to the protocol we have in the US that protects nonimmigrant trafficked victims. Basically, in the US once a nonimmigrant victim is rescued they can apply to get a temporary visa (along with the possibility of eventually getting permanent residence status) and will have access to certain benefits. In India, there is no similar protection. The rescued victims are dealt with unevenly. Many are just dropped off at the border of their country, where they face the likely event of being trafficked again. There is a lot more to it of course (like the fact that the US system hasn’t been very effective), so most of my time is spent on a computer reading reports on trafficking laws from various countries and international agreements. It is arduous, but I actually love it.

In other news, monsoon started early last week. Temperatures had been in the upper nineties and the locals were waiting for it impatiently. The deluge started at around seven. It slacked to a light shower by nine, but some streets were already flooded. All the taxis were taken, so I trudged to the bus stop, clutching my bag under my waterproof jacket. As miserable as I was, I couldn’t help but smile at having dry feet. I had felt foolish putting rubber boots on that morning, knowing that no one else would be in anything other than sandals, but I hadn’t realized how necessary (at least to me) they are. Bits of garbage floated in the water and it was impossible to see what lay in the deep sections. On a side street a tree lay on downed power lines. I walked gingerly hoping not to step on something dangerous or, even worse, into an open manhole…like the one I had just seen moments before. In my delight at having dry feet, I decided to take the following photo. Just guess what happened a moment later when the approaching wave reached me…let’s just say, it’s too bad I didn’t have hip waders on. :)

A Briefing: Prosecuting War Criminals

One of the benefits of working at the United Nations during the summer is that the Internship Program encourages the interns to attend many of the meetings that occur within the UN headquarters everyday. These meetings are typically closed door meetings regarding issues covering a wide array of areas that the UN is involved in. Some of the meetings I have seen on the UN daily journal cover areas such as disarmament, missiles, peacekeeping and human rights.

Last Friday, I had the opportunity to attend a briefing by the Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court. The ICC is one of the few international criminal tribunals that have been established to prosecute those who are accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity. (Incidentally, some of my supervisors were involved in the drafting work for the Rome Statutes of the ICC.) The briefing was attended by numerous representatives from the many Permanent Missions. (On a side note: There was also free lunch courtesy of the Permanent Missions of Australia and Liechtenstein.) The Prosecutor was represented by the head of the Jurisdiction, Complementarity and Cooperation Division.

She basically briefed us regarding the recent actions taken by the International Criminal Court regarding the issuance of arrest warrants against new suspects. Currently, the ICC has so far looked into situations in Uganda (the Lord's Resistance Army), the Democratic Republic of Congo (Thomas Lubanga, who is the first person to be arrested under the Rome Statutes), the Central African Republic and the Sudan (Humanitarian Affairs Minister Ahmad Harun and Janjaweed militia leader Ali Kushayb). After the meeting, it was interesting to hear several ambassadors make comments and ask questions. The briefing was off the record, so I cannot write about what was said. Let me say though that diplomatic language makes it difficult for a listener to realize that what is being said is actually already a form of criticism.

After the meeting, I also had an opportunity to speak with Professor Giusseppe Nesi, the Legal Adviser to the Permanent Mission of Italy to the United Nations. I remembered Professor Nesi because he was invited by one of my former international law professors to speak about the International Criminal Court for one of my classes in my previous school. I made sure to mention that we would invite Professor Nesi to give a talk at Fordham Law soon.

For those interested in getting more information regarding the International Criminal Court, visit: http://www.icc-cpi.int/

On a somewhat related note, Professor Richard Goldstone, who is a former Chief Prosecutor for the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, will be a Visiting Professor at Fordham Law School this coming fall. He will be teaching a course on international criminal law.

Belfast, week 3

Well, I'm entering my third week of work in Belfast and have now had the chance to develop a few more concrete impressions of my time here. Overall, Belfast strikes me as a gritty city in midst of a development boom. The optimism and excitement over the city's future is quite palapable through short conversations with local residents and the presence of many construction sites throughout the city center is also evidence of this. Although this increases the annoyance factor for city residents, I suspect that many will gladly accept this as a price for the city's nascent prosperity.

My work at the CAJ has gone smoothly so far and has involved substantial interaction with government entities such as the Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission. One process currently making news in Belfast is the lawsuit that various religious churches (Protestant and Catholic) have filed to enjoin goverment legislation guaranteeing equality for the gay and lesbian population from taking effect. The NIRHC, along with other government and civil society organizations has responded in defense of the legislation and regardless of how this process culminates, two things come to mind. It is interesting to note that this is one of the few instances in which members of the Protestant and Catholic churches have banded together on the same side to vigorously contest government legislation. So much for the notion that the two sides can't work together under any circumstances.....

Secondly, I think it's important to note that the concept of equality in Northern Ireland is moving beyond the traditional Catholic v. Protestant mindset to become cognizant of the need to have other at-risk segments of the population included in legislative process.

On a lighter note, the weather is a bit erratic but I'm told that it's to be expected during this time of the year. Till next time....

Working in "International Territory" in New York

I began my internship at the United Nations last Monday. Every summer term (the UN also takes in interns during the fall), around 200 graduate students from all over the world descend on the UN headquarters to work for the various offices of the United Nations. This year, the interns represent more than 70 countries. So far, I've met students from England, China, Korea, Lithuania, among others, and law students from Australia, Canada, Russia and Sweden. (I believe there are quite a number of law students who are interns this summer; but not all of them work in the Office of Legal Affairs)

I work in the Codification Division of the Office of Legal Affairs. I work with two other interns, both of whom are LLM students. Our division conducts research for the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly, the International Law Commission and the numerous legal publications of the UN. Several of my supervisors are also involved in the drafting of different international legal instruments. (Our office is located on one of the top floors of the building and has majestic views of Manhattan and Queens. Pictures to come soon!)

What is interesting to note is that the UN compound enjoys some kind of extraterritorial status. (The UN offices are actually spread around the area. There are a few UN buildings which are located outside of the headquarters.) Federal and state laws of the United States have very limited application and enforceability within the headquarters district. (at least when these laws conflict with applicable UN regulations) Many members of the UN staff also enjoy diplomatic immunity and thus cannot be prosecuted by local courts unless this immunity is waived by the UN Secretary General. Because of this unusual character of the UN compound, the headquarters is probably one of the few (or the only?) building in New York where smoking is still allowed indoors! Of course, staff cannot smoke anywhere they please. There are still designated areas within the building where smoking is allowed. The UN also has its own post office. (and its own stamps! Incidentally, if you are a tourist -- or not -- and want your stamps personalized and have your picture printed on the stamp, you can do that too.) Aside from the post office, there is an in-house police force and fire department among other things.

If you're curious to see the provisions of the UN Headquarters agreement between the United States and the United Nations, visit: http://www.un.int/usa/host_hqs.htm

My next post: A short story about a briefing by the Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court

blue, crystalline eyes stare up at me as i walk towards my cubicle, and she points half a chocolate bar in my general direction. surrounded by legos and toy cars, in a mid-town office at the International Rescue Committee Refugee Resettlement Office, i've come across a girl of 4 or 5, whose father, mother, or maybe grandmother, and younger brother with those same blue eyes, are our clients. i think they're from kazakhstan.

i've only been here three days, of which i have spent three of in training. this has consisted of learning the process of how refugees and asylees get here, and what we do when they come to our office. for the past three days, this has mainly consisted of lots of forms and data bases. but now there's a set of eyes and a quad of handshakes that seem to have welcomed the work to begin!

Belfast....first impressions

Hi everyone, I just reporting in from Belfast, where I arrived two days ago. I went from the airport straight to the offices of the Committee on the Administration for Justice to get familiarized with my new surroundings. Now in the my third full day of work, I can say that my colleagues here at the CAJ are kind, helpful and thoroughly familiar with Fordham's work in the international public policy sector, particularly in the Northern Ireland context.

Since I've started working immediately upon my arrival, I've barely had time to secure my housing locally and cannot say that I've seen much of Belfast. What I can say is that it strikes me as a mid-sized city with an increasingly lively profile that contrasts sharply with past notions of a place rife with political unrest. The city center is charming, compact and full of great places to get a coffee or a bite to eat.

I haven't yet checked out the pub scene but will do so soon...to be continued.

First night in Paris

Hello readers and fellow Leitner scholars,

I just arrived in Paris tonight, so I thought this might be a good time to write a first post. I'm very excited to be here, naturally, but I am completely exhausted from the past few days--because of a combination of the writing competition and packing up my entire apartment in a day, I've only slept about 9 hours since Wednesday. Also, I'm a bit bummed because my guitar is missing in action. The baggage handlers at Charles de Gaulle airport think it must have gotten stuck in London, and will hopefully arrive in a day or two. Nonetheless, as soon as I hit Paris, I was invigorated. I'm staying at a hostel for the next few days, until I move into my apartment. The hostel is right on the outskirts of Paris, in Epinay-sur-Seine, a nice area with a very suburban feel to it. I went exploring a bit after moving in, went for a long walk and relished being in a new place. It was overcast and lightly raining on and off, with a cool breeze that was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of New York these past few days. I had only been walking for about five minutes before someone stopped and asked me for directions. Of course, I had to let them know I was fresh off the plane and barely knew where I was, let alone where they were going. Still, the inquiry gave me an instant, and encouraging, sense of belonging. As I walked around, I started getting hungry(they served meals on the plane, but, well, it was airplane food and it didn't really do the trick), so I stopped into a cool little pizza shop. Inside, a crowd of locals was huddled around a thirteen inch(33cm?) TV watching a football match--they were all going absolutely crazy every time one of the players made a good play or someone scored. I watched with them while I ate and got pretty into it, and thoroughly enjoyed meeting some people who weren't tourists.


I'll be starting my internship at the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development on Monday, so I think I'm going to sleep in tomorrow(just a bit!), then spend the day exploring Paris. For now, though, I think it's time to sign off.

À bientôt,
Adam

International Law at Fordham... on the Road

Welcome, Leitner Interns. This is a forum for you to share with the world -- here at Fordham and beyond -- about your incredible experiences this summer as you travel across the world to work in international human rights.

Thanks for sharing your experiences with us here.