Justice in the Congo, Part 5

The Courtroom



The sad set of double doors opens to the middle of the courtroom.  Straight ahead are four spare wooden benches,  capable of uncomfortably seating seven adults apiece.  The gallery sits here, as do the parties, witnesses, and armed security guards.  

The space behind these benches resembles the furniture section of a pawn shop.  A table with a missing leg lies on its side.  It is joined by two or three massive bureaus, some shelving, an extra bench, and a bicycle.  

Ahead of the four benches and toward the front of the courtroom stands a mega-podium.  Imagine a standard wooden podium, then quadruple its width.  The lawyers sit on a bench before the podium and stand when their case is argued.  A few paces ahead of the podium, up two steps, sits a bench inhabited by the judges; it resembles those in courtrooms across the United States.  

Little else in the room even suggests the First World.  

The walls are mostly a drab shade of yellow, and the paint-job looks like modern art.  Layer upon layer of paint has been slapped on (or peeled off), revealing multiple shades, textures, and brushstrokes of yellow, brown, and white.  A deep fissure zigzags from floor to ceiling, revealing the wall’s beige-colored innards.  Most of the chips, dents and scuffs on these walls have no obvious explanation, but two deep rectangular gashes in the walls are plainly the former homes of light switches or electrical outlets.  

The ceiling is a shade of sea green.  Several panels are missing, offering the gallery a view of the metal roof if they missed it on their way in.  Flaps of ceiling droop toward the ground, the product of age, water damage, or both.  Near the front of the room, a beam meant to support a ceiling panels hangs precipitously.  Should it give way while court is in session, it seems likely to land on the “Greffier” -- the Clerk of the Court

With doors and windows open, it’s room temperature in the courtroom.  The air stays fresh thanks to a gentle breeze, and sun floods through the large windows on the far wall of the courtroom.  

But the sunlight makes it easier to examine the floor.  Once smooth concrete, it now looks like a topographical map.  Cracks run this way and that; dents, ravines, and pockmarks dominate the landscape.  The legs of many gallery benches have found their way into one crater or another; they seesaw back and forth when sat upon.  The concrete has completely worn away from two sections near the entrance, revealing bricks beneath.  Even these bricks are wasting away; some are missing, and the ones that remain have begun to disintegrate.