The man

I put on my robes and looked around the vast space in the empty courtroom. A super courtroom, they called it. Everything was in order. I grabbed my pass, and walked towards the back door; the security door. Beep, the door opened. I looked down the corridor and saw one door propped open with a metal chair. I walked towards it.

I saw two uniformed men sitting insde the tiny room. Beside them, on the same bench, sat an old man. A little man. He was darker in colour. His eyes told stories of hardship and torture. They were kind and gentle, yet hardy. They were old. I indicated to the men that they could enter the courtroom.

Obligingly, the three men stood and followed my lead. I bowed my head, feeling so privileged for my robes and undeserving of my authority. I led them into the courtroom and showed them their seats - the guards in the public area; the old man at the bar table. I introduced the old man to his interpreter. They spoke a few words. The old man looked relieved to be able to communicate with someone in his own language. The old man was polite. And anxious. He looked around the courtroom and looked as though he was gazing upon the luxurious fittings. I knew better that he really was pondering upon his life and impending death.

Three knocks; the judge walked in. The case began. The emotions heightened. The voices got louder. The confusion got thicker. The tears in my eyes welled up.

The old man was wearing a blue windbreaker, a modest brown shirt and brown pants. He was a father. He was a husband. He looked destitute. He looked desperate. Not for riches or luxuries. But for his life.

Is that too much to ask for? For a chance of a life? For a chance to live in a place where one's life is not constantly dangling upon a high wire? For a chance of freedom? For a life free of violence and discrimination and torture? Is it really too much to offer when we claim ourselves to be a major international proponent of human rights and in particular, in relation to asylum seekers and refugees?

Tell me why is it that when we become more developed, we become more inhumane?

At the end of the case, he walked up to me and shook my hand. He gripped my hand and looked at me kindly, and said 'thank you'.

God bless.

Take care.