Birthday Celebrations and the U.N. Court

Well, first of all, I want to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday and I'm happy to report that it was a good birthday indeed.

It started off as most birthday's should... With a Mariachi band signing "Las Mañanitas" in the background... J/K that came later.  

No, it actually started out drizzly which is great if you're Madame Mim from the Sword in the Stone (ah evoking Disney, as always).  I rode my bike in the rain to Hagar where I promptly traded it in for a motodop ride to The Living Room, one of my café corners of choice.  Over my chai-latte and fresh fruit, my grandparent's called from Mexico to wish me a happy birthday, followed by my family, this time with full-mariachi recording in the background.  Thanks mom!

The day continued to turn even grosser, so I meandered over to golden street/tourist street where I refused a number of tuk-tuk rides before ducking into the recommended "Dermal Spa" for my birthday present to myself... Aromatherapy massage, fruit scrub, steam bath, and manicure/pedicure all for hundreds less than it would have cost me in the U.S.  Thank you, Asia.  After this delightful pampering of the self, my red pedicured toes stepped into the pouring rain and I decided to sit it out for awhile at the fake Starbucks while I stared out, contemplating life and reading Shantaram.  

That evening Tim and Jess surprised me with the second best birthday present ever... A spa/massage gift certificate (this one will be saved for "post first couple of weeks at work" therapy) and a couple of us headed over to Pacharan (Spanish tapas restaurant) for before-dinner drinks and L'Una de Atuno for some delicious pizza e pasta.

Overall good birthday (minus one big girl's D.C. reunion)!

Aside from that, I am now reporting to you from Micaela's apartment on the Tonle Sap river front.  I'm now officially moved in for apartment-sitting for the month in her nice little studio, which probably fits better in N.Y. more than it does in Cambodia (well, maybe not the red, orange, and white star tiles). I have a good neighbor friend, Fitria, from Indonesia who I got to take me to her work yesterday...

She's an intern at the U.N. Court for trying the Khmer Rouge criminals on crimes against humanity.  The court's official name is the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia for the Prosecution of Crimes Committed During the Period of Democratic Kampuchea.  The court is held in the outskirts of Phnom Penh (past the airport). Naturally, I loved meeting Fitria's co-interns and felt right at home listening to the mix of languages and accents. The interns never stay year-round, so I listened in on the social scandals, drama, and work complaints (apparently, work can be boring everywhere,  even at the UN).  I met people from Latvia, France, Germany, Malaysia, the U.S. and yes, even Mexico (one girl studying in Strasbourg, from Oaxaca).  

It was both incredibly interesting and incredibly bizarre to be in such an international setting, especially while in court,  listening through earphones to the interpreter dictate what Duch (former Khmer leader in charge of S-21, the school-turned torture prison in Phnom Penh between 1975 and 1979) had to say as "the accused" when the prosecutors and civil party groups cross-examined him.  (I hope I got the legal terms right lol)  Sooo much is lost in translation that the French "President" of the court and Duch, and the Cambodian judges and anyone else have to constantly re-state and re-phrase their questions and answers.  I literally spent an entire morning listening to exactly how did Duch "Brother" communicate via letter, messenger, and telephone with his superiors (Pol Pot, Sary, Sam Bith and Nuon Paet) when prisoners were being sent to S-21.  

The court itself is actually quite a show, with the characters: the judges at center stage, the accused and defense lawyers stage right, the prosecutors and civil parties stage left, and the couple of "victims" almost behind the scenes on far stage left.  Instead of a curtain, the characters are safe behind a glass fish-bowl, while the public sits, listens and observes in what would be considered "the auditorium" seating.  Oh, and there was one rather large African security person standing near the door, in case anyone tried to sneak in a bottle of water or do something outrageous like fall asleep.  After a nice lunch and iced-coffee I decided not to go to law school.  Actually, I decided while on the back of one of the guards' motos on my way back to Phnom Penh, that I still don't know what I want to do.  Overall, attending the court was more historically impacting, especially when I am able to see an aging international criminal turn to look at the audience with curiosity and even do a little head bow, rather than the glamorous mystique that the words "United Nations Tribunal" had often brought when I read my political science texts.  I think that people are just people that often get caught up in something that brings them to do something that is seen as normal, or a way of "surviving" by those they are surrounded by.  I'm not excusing any criminal by any means, I think the point I'm trying to make is that no system (domestic or international) will ever be fair.  People here complain about how millions are being spent each year on this court a they were spent in the Rwandan and Yugoslav tribunals, how the system is flawed, how it is pointless to bring back the atrocities to generations that did not live through them, or to those that are trying to forget.  But honestly, I think that despite the flaws of such a system, there will never truly be justice for the victims or for those affected world-wide by such crimes, but it is still good to have such a process, with international backing, for the sake of history.  I know that if I was a Cambodian child born generations from now, I would have no trust in my own government and culture, if I knew nothing had been done at all to close such a gruesome chapter in Cambodia.  

The arguments and counter-arguments are endless, but at least I got to observe the daily routine of those caught up in the world of international "justice".