This sounds like a brag, but I am friends with one of the Namibian Supreme Court Justices. He and I met several months ago in a writing group that was started by a Fulbright Fellow who taught at the University of Namibia this past year. Though the fellow has since left the country, the group has managed to stay together much to my pleasure, meeting every couple of weeks to share our stories. One of them introduced themselves as a lawyer.
Then I came to find out that he wasn't just any lawyer, but a human rights one. Oh- and by the way: a Supreme Court Justice. The words that flow onto his paper tell stories of his clients who were involved in the resistance during Apartheid. They were tortured. Abused. Thrown in jail while he was shunned by family and friends. He was threatened - and not the banal, fist shaking kind of threats. For years he fought for the underrepresented, winning cases by arguing against the laws that protected no one except the elite. He did was what necessary: sneaking in cameras to gather evidence. He met with clients in the dead of night and under excruciating environmental conditions and surveillance of the police who had all the power.
He's the kind of guy to think about when you are having a bad day. He's the kind of guy whose name is David but goes by Dave. He's passionate, humble, damn smart, and kind. I hope that some day his own story is told. There just aren't enough Daves in this word.
Last week Dave set me up on a tour of his workplace. We met his law assistant Kema, a lawyer also dedicated to human rights. She walked us around the monolithic building that was built on a hill facing the center of downtown. Its visionaries chose a Moroccan Riad theme to set it apart from existing German colonial styles around the city: a spacious white courtyard in the middle surrounded by two stories of public, semi-private, and private offices that would oversee the law of the land. Long, rectangular pillared corridors flank the main entrance as if they were embracing the city. They used simple square windows to encourage air passage, and angled vents to reflect the sun away from the interior. The entrance has the judicial articles of the Namibian Constitution etched into the granite. Though the building is imposing and slightly terrifying to walk into, it is open to the public. Anyone can attend court hearings or visit the reading room provided you check in with security.
Inside, the two courtrooms A & B are bright white with an accent wall at the back center where the Justices sit. The boxy red and pink granite stone from Karibib (a small town west of Windhoek) pay homage to Spitzkoppe, a 120 million year old mountain that rises out of nowhere in the Namib Desert. I sat in the Chief Justice chair and immediately slid off the polished leather. It took a considerable amount of effort to stay put, it was so poofy. I wondered if that was done purpose. To remind the judges of the effort it takes to get there in the first place.
We passed through the reading room and entered the library which houses hundreds of thousands of newspapers and books. Some of them were from the 1600's, covered in stiff animal hide. A few had broken spines, exposing the painstaking detail of an individual who hand-sewed the pages together. There were law books in English, Afrikaans, German, Italian, Dutch, and Latin. Seeing a sack of brown sugar forgotten on a chair made the place feel a bit more human.
As part of the grand finale, we were introduced to Dave who stood in his office that was lined with hundreds of more books, some still in boxes from transporting them to his home office, his preferred place of work. Dave walked us through the prestigious judge's entrance into the courtroom and answered questions about cases he'd tried and cases he'd judged. He spoke candidly about his career and the perilous paths it took him.
Finally, he walked us outside where he shared details about the plants and trees that were planted outside of the building. Dave is 100% Namibian with a huge admiration for horticulture. Most plants are protected because of their uniqueness and important roles in water conservation. For example, the shepherd's tree taproots can extend as deep as 68 meters below the surface. It's a hearty caper family tree whose berries are a key source of nutrition for animals and humans. Plus they can be roasted as a coffee bean substitute.
At any rate, I am thrilled that he took the time to show us around. The court definitely felt less intimidating afterward. But then again, I wasn't (and hopefully never will be) on trial. Then I think this place would be terrifying all over again.
Then I came to find out that he wasn't just any lawyer, but a human rights one. Oh- and by the way: a Supreme Court Justice. The words that flow onto his paper tell stories of his clients who were involved in the resistance during Apartheid. They were tortured. Abused. Thrown in jail while he was shunned by family and friends. He was threatened - and not the banal, fist shaking kind of threats. For years he fought for the underrepresented, winning cases by arguing against the laws that protected no one except the elite. He did was what necessary: sneaking in cameras to gather evidence. He met with clients in the dead of night and under excruciating environmental conditions and surveillance of the police who had all the power.
He's the kind of guy to think about when you are having a bad day. He's the kind of guy whose name is David but goes by Dave. He's passionate, humble, damn smart, and kind. I hope that some day his own story is told. There just aren't enough Daves in this word.
Last week Dave set me up on a tour of his workplace. We met his law assistant Kema, a lawyer also dedicated to human rights. She walked us around the monolithic building that was built on a hill facing the center of downtown. Its visionaries chose a Moroccan Riad theme to set it apart from existing German colonial styles around the city: a spacious white courtyard in the middle surrounded by two stories of public, semi-private, and private offices that would oversee the law of the land. Long, rectangular pillared corridors flank the main entrance as if they were embracing the city. They used simple square windows to encourage air passage, and angled vents to reflect the sun away from the interior. The entrance has the judicial articles of the Namibian Constitution etched into the granite. Though the building is imposing and slightly terrifying to walk into, it is open to the public. Anyone can attend court hearings or visit the reading room provided you check in with security.
Inside, the two courtrooms A & B are bright white with an accent wall at the back center where the Justices sit. The boxy red and pink granite stone from Karibib (a small town west of Windhoek) pay homage to Spitzkoppe, a 120 million year old mountain that rises out of nowhere in the Namib Desert. I sat in the Chief Justice chair and immediately slid off the polished leather. It took a considerable amount of effort to stay put, it was so poofy. I wondered if that was done purpose. To remind the judges of the effort it takes to get there in the first place.
We passed through the reading room and entered the library which houses hundreds of thousands of newspapers and books. Some of them were from the 1600's, covered in stiff animal hide. A few had broken spines, exposing the painstaking detail of an individual who hand-sewed the pages together. There were law books in English, Afrikaans, German, Italian, Dutch, and Latin. Seeing a sack of brown sugar forgotten on a chair made the place feel a bit more human.
As part of the grand finale, we were introduced to Dave who stood in his office that was lined with hundreds of more books, some still in boxes from transporting them to his home office, his preferred place of work. Dave walked us through the prestigious judge's entrance into the courtroom and answered questions about cases he'd tried and cases he'd judged. He spoke candidly about his career and the perilous paths it took him.
Finally, he walked us outside where he shared details about the plants and trees that were planted outside of the building. Dave is 100% Namibian with a huge admiration for horticulture. Most plants are protected because of their uniqueness and important roles in water conservation. For example, the shepherd's tree taproots can extend as deep as 68 meters below the surface. It's a hearty caper family tree whose berries are a key source of nutrition for animals and humans. Plus they can be roasted as a coffee bean substitute.
At any rate, I am thrilled that he took the time to show us around. The court definitely felt less intimidating afterward. But then again, I wasn't (and hopefully never will be) on trial. Then I think this place would be terrifying all over again.
 |
| Supreme Court of Namibia: built in 1997. No buildings are allowed to block the front. |
 |
| Courtroom A. |
 |
| There's always 3 judges, and sometimes 5. The acoustics in the room require that presenting lawyers speak clearly and loudly whereas everyone can hear a pin drop from the bench. |
 |
| Fine tuning their book return system. |
 |
| Books dating back as early as 1664. |
 |
| Supreme Court Justice Office |
 |
| Supreme Court Justice Office. The Justices are just like real people. |
 |
| Memorial gardens. |
 |
| Supreme Court Justice Dave Smuts talking about one of the acacia tree variations, intentionally planted to stay consistent with Namibian landscape. |
 |
| The woman who is going to change it all: Kema. |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.