When we left Prey Veng one afternoon we began a long journey to go to Pursat through Phnom Penh. It was about a two-hour trip from Prey Veng to Phnom Penh. The road was rough and in the middle of the trip we needed to cross a river through a ferry, as there was no bridge at that point. As we began to cross our vehicle lined up with many other vehicles, including lorries, containers, and buses – all preparing to drive onto the ferry. While we were waiting to drive onto the ferry people were busy trying to convince waiting travelers to purchase their goods displayed on trays and metal basins.

I was not brave enough to devour some delicacies offered, like deep fried grasshoppers. Instead I purchased a peeled, cut, and ready to eat green mango and enjoyed it thoroughly. Eating a sour green mango reminded me of my childhood growing up in a village/town called Hendala on the outskirts of Sri Lanka. My friends and I used to throw wooden sticks at mango trees to get some mangoes to the ground so that we could enjoy them. This occasionally resulted in mangoes, or sticks, landing on rooftops of houses who actually owned these mango trees. When this happened we had to quickly run for cover before someone came out of the house to see what was going on. We first traveled to Phnom Penh from Prey Veng, which took us over two hours. We arrived just in time for a meeting with a potential donor and partner at the office in Phnom Penh. Afterwards we set off for Pursat. Paul Rickard joined us in Phnom Penh for the second leg of the journey.

The trip to Pursat rekindled my childhood memories of Northern Sri Lanka. When one travels from Kampong Chhnang to Pursat, you see flat and dry land, lined with palm trees reminiscent of Palmyras. This was my memory in and around Jaffna when my father took me along a number of trips to the northern region of the country when I was between four and five years old. It took us about four hours to reach Pursat without a break. We arrived at the same hotel Vandeth and I stayed in last year. A spacious room with two large beds, air-conditioning, and hot water for $13 per night. Quite a deal! My whole body was aching after nearly eight hours of travel through three provinces – Prey Veng, Phnom Penh and Kampong Chhnang. I was desperately in need of a good night sleep and I got exactly that. The next morning I was joined by IBJ’s DRC2 lawyer, Chhoun Sithann, during breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Again, you could see Vandeth’s humor as he attempted to talk to the local waitress at the restaurant in English instead of Khmer. He told her that speaking with foreigners was a good chance to practice and improve her English. By the end of the conversation, the young waitress could take all of our orders in English.

After breakfast we then set off to the Provincial Prison in Pursat. We first visited the administrative building of the prison, which is a house primitively built with metal sheets on the roof. The prison Director was a subordinate of Vandeth when he was working in the military. This was my second meeting with the Director. When I finally met him, I immediately realized that he was not well. He looked like he had aged many years during last 12 months. He then told me that he was very sick and is under medication, which caused him to lose a significant amount of weight. He was very cooperative with us. The Director was speaking with Chhoun Sithann about the issues surrounding pre-trial detainees. He even opened a printed copy of the Cambodian Criminal Procedure Code and began discussing its provisions protecting rights of accused persons. After this conversation we then decided to visit the prison medical centre. I remembered this place well. The former young health worker named Davy Chau, whom I met there last year, was no longer present as he was pursuing his studies in Phnom Penh. It was Devy who convinced me that urgent assistance is needed to equip the prison health centre. Last year he told me that even medicine for a common headache or fever was not available in the health clinic, and that there was no stethoscope or medicine to dress wounds. Since I returned to Geneva, Davy had written me emails every other week reminding me of these needs. He showed me that it was a health centre without medicine, any basic equipment for a health worker, and without running water. He pointed to a hole in the wooden wall of the health centre and told me that was the place where there should be a tap and a basin to wash hands. When I visited this time, Davy was not there. I saw a sink on the ground, ready to be mounted on the wall. This time, I went there prepared with basic medical equipment and medicine. The older health worker at the prison health centre was beaming with happiness when she saw the medicines and equipment. It was a pity that Davy was no longer there to see that he had finally achieved what he wanted in taking efforts to make the health centre functional.

Thereafter, we visited the prison and the Director told us that the Red Cross had recently installed clean drinking water in each building where a number of cells are housed. We then stumbled upon an English class that was in progress, which was run by a fellow young prisoner.

He had written some notes on a white board in beautiful handwriting and then proceeded to demonstrate his teaching skills. This young man looked very enthusiastic and confident to teach his fellow inmates English. We were very encouraged. In this English class, Sithann met with three of his clients, who agreed to pose with him to take a few photos.

I have always wondered how these lawyers will adjust to working in remote provinces with a slow pace of life. It was truly touching to hear Vannophea’s answer and to know that he does not plan to go back into the city to practice law. There are other indirect advantages too that one gains by living in a province. One of my young lawyer colleagues in a province told me: “If you are looking for a girlfriend, if you want to find a pretty girl, you go to Phnom Penh…but if you want to find a good girl, you find them in provinces.” We laughed aloud after this discussion. After Vannophea’s statement, I was unsure of the general mindset of other IBJ lawyers working in provinces. When I visited them in other provincial offices, I posed the same question: “how do you find it working in provinces?” They all had the same answer: “tough but we like working here!” This response made me think of how lucky IBJ is to find these committed young lawyers to work for us. Then I also realized, while technically they are working for IBJ, they are actually also working for their own people; people who are the most vulnerable and forgotten in society.

I am confident that the motivation for them to continue their hard work comes from deep within, from the meaning of their work and seeing how their work directly impacts the lives of their clients and their families.
In Prey Veng, when I visited IBJ’s DRC3 in Cambodia, I was again touched by the commitment of my colleagues there. They were telling me that sometimes they have to travel over 100km to interview a single client, and that the roads they often travel are unsafe and in terrible conditions. Their caseloads are increasing every day. In Prey Veng, the IBJ office is in a strategic location, right opposite the Provincial Court.

The office is quite simple, consisting of a wooden house with metal sheets covering the roof. IBJ lawyer there, So Bengtharun, was telling me how difficult for him it is to work in his office in the afternoon when the heat of the sun is reflected from the metal sheets below the window of his first floor office room. There is no air conditioning but a tiny fan, and Cambodia is generally very hot with temperatures often rising above 35 degrees Celsius. The IBJ lawyer there has moved into the province with his young wife and child. He said that despite all of the difficulties, he is enjoying his life there, especially the fresh air and slow pace. When I visited the prison at Prey Veng, the chief prison guard emphasized the importance of early access to counsel which will result in a lower number of detainees at the prison. I was again happy to hear these words from a prison official. There is growing awareness among public officials that the actual laws on the books need to be implemented throughout Cambodia.

Ouk Vandeth accompanied me throughout my entire trip. He obviously planned every detail of the trip in advance, including various important meetings that he set up for me to interact with key officials. IBJ is blessed with persons like Vandeth. He makes a constant effort to ensure that IBJ is working efficiently on the ground. Whenever he visits a provincial DRC, the first thing he does is sit at a computer in the office and directly go through the case files. He then talks with the staff, especially the lawyer and the investigator, about the status of all of these cases and issues related to each proceeding. He meticulously goes through the case management spreadsheet and amends all necessary records. Only after he performs this task does he talk with the staff about other issues. Indeed, Vandeth is a man of many talents, and a man with many contacts and connections throughout Cambodia. His past interactions with the police force and military in Cambodia have created a large group of persons that he is connected to who hold important positions throughout the nation. For example, one of his former colleagues in the military is now the deputy governor of a province where IBJ is working. This person was extremely kind-hearted, as he insisted that Vandeth and I go to his home to have lunch before we left the province. When we went to his place, his family and close friends joined us to enjoy a delicious meal prepared by his wife. We all sat on the floor around a mat where food was placed.

Vandeth also has his own unique way of interacting with people that always seems to leave a lasting impression. Whether it is a high-level government official or an ordinary vendor, he is always capable of engaging in small talk and making fun out of the situation. Paul Rickard, who is assisting IBJ and Vandeth with our Cambodia Country Program, was telling me that he misses out on many jokes Vandeth makes due to the language barrier. Although Paul is learning Khmer, he was telling me that his Khmer is not good enough to follow Vandeth’s jokes. Such small talk and a little bit of fun, coupled with the non-threatening smiling face of Vandeth, work well in building the foundation for many important relationships throughout Cambodia.
He is a person who understands the intricacies of Cambodian society well. This wisdom he possess, coupled with his experience with different disciplinary forces, and the legal knowledge and skills that he has obtained, form a very unique and special individual. His non-threatening approach has worked well to develop strategic and trusting relationships with civil society organizations as well as with the Government. I truly enjoyed every minute that I spent with Vandeth during my journey throughout Cambodia.

Visiting IBJ offices in provinces was something I eagerly awaited. My first visit was to Takeo where IBJ established its first provincial Defender Resource Centre (DRC). I was especially looking forward to meeting our legal fellow at the office, Po Vannophea, who I heard was seriously injured due to an accident. I heard the story that Vannophea went to represent clients in court even with an injured leg following the accident. My first stop upon arriving in Takeo was the prison. I met the Director of the Takeo Prison, a very kind and pleasant man, who has been managing the prison for last 27 years. He remembered me from my last visit and welcomed me warmly. We sat in the wooden chairs outside his office and conversed. I could see the same blackboard where basic prison statistics were being updated daily.

The Director happily accepted donations IBJ made to the prison office as well as the health clinic. We donated some paper for the office and basic medicine such as paracetamol. While talking with the prison director, IBJ lawyer Po Vannophea joined us in conversation. He looked well despite being treated for his leg injuries the previous day. We discussed the situation of pre-trial detainees in the prison with the Director. He was glad that we now have a lawyer present in the province to assist prisoners and detainees. I then asked him about a particular detainee I had seen during a visit the previous year. This particular prisoner is a completely mute person who has been in pretrial detention for five years. I did not remember his name, but I remembered his story and wondered if he was still housed in the same prison facility. He was previously in a prison cell shared by another 80 or so inmates when I met him last year. When he finally raised his head and our eyes met I saw a thousand expressions in his eyes asking for help in some way, shape, or form. He looked dejected, lacking morale and hope, and his eyes were begging for help to get him out of the misery he was living in. When I asked the prison Director about him during this visit, to my disappointment, the Director told me that he is still in the prison and that the court was eventually planning to release him upon the receipt of a pardon from a higher authority.

When I told the Director that I would like to see him, to my surprise, he pointed his finger at a person wearing a hat who was working outside the prison, helping to build a wall between the prison compound and adjacent government offices. Upon seeing him I was not sure if he remembered me, but I certainly remembered him. When he was summoned to the dilapidated office of the Director, he looked very different from last year when I saw him. He actually looked energetic and hopeful. There was no dejected expression on his face and he was smiling at me. I seized the opportunity and took a photo with him, wanting to capture that moment and remember it for all time.

The only way that I could communicate with him was through eye contact, and after exchanging a few meaningful glances he then went back to work. After my meeting with the Director, I saw my old friend in the distance who had resumed helping to build the wall – again, he looked at me and I waved my hand in return. To my pleasant surprise, he smiled and waved his hand in return. I told the IBJ lawyer in the province to closely follow his case and do whatever possible to get him released, as there have been no charges against him during last six years, and he lacks the ability to advocate for himself because he is completely mute. I also later learned about the sad irony this particular prisoner is facing. His wife has become mentally unstable and if he is released he will not be able to return to her. As there is a severe lack of rehabilitation facilities for persons with communication disabilities like him, I am now wondering what challenges he will face once he is released.

After visiting this prison, I visited the Takeo Provincial Court and met with my good friend, the Deputy Prosecutor. When I first visited Takeo in August 2007 and met him, his profound words struck me. He requested that IBJ start an office in Takeo and place a full-time lawyer to defend accused persons. He told me that as a conscientious and law-abiding prosecutor, he could not allow defendants to come before the court without a lawyer representing them. He was very direct and genuine in his expressions, and his appeal to IBJ was straightforward and honest. I remember this moment vividly and later conveyed this episode to the WISE Partnership representatives when IBJ was looking for their assistance in funding the Cambodia Program. When I met him this time, I reminded him of our conversation with him and his appeal to me several years back. He told me that he is very happy that now IBJ has a placed a lawyer in the Takeo province in an effort to assist in the defense of accused persons.

Later during the day I was again talking to Po Vannophea, IBJ’s Legal Fellow at the DRC in Takeo. He has not fully recovered from his accident, but he was beaming with enthusiasm and energy. He looked like a very confident and competent young lawyer ready to face any challenge. I was then telling him that funding for the Takeo DRC as well as other DRC’s in two other provinces will be guaranteed until the end of 2010, and that IBJ will be actively looking for funding opportunities this year for 2011. He then said, “If IBJ’s office closes down, I will not go back to Phnom Penh to look for a job. I will practice law in the Takeo province and continue to assist people here.” This statement is extremely significant as it relates to the overall nature of legal practice in Cambodia, where the trend is for young lawyers to move to Phnom Penh to earn higher salaries and practice corporate law. I guess most law student in the world tend to have similar plans and often that is what has inspired them to study law. In Cambodia, there are very few lawyers in the provinces, leaving those who live in rural communities vulnerable to legal rights abuses. The trend is for lawyers to move to Phnom Penh and build their legal career there. IBJ’s strategy was to reverse this trend by trying to persuade competent lawyers to practice in provinces. At least we now have four young, energetic and committed lawyers working in our provincial offices and effectuating positive changes.

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I always look forward to visiting Cambodia. In early February this year I arrived in Phnom Penh. As I was holding a Sri Lankan passport, I was given “special treatment” by the immigration officials at the Phnom Penh Airport when they asked me to wait until they checked my passport and made sufficient photocopies. When I finally passed through customs, Ouk Vandeth, IBJ’s Cambodia Country Manager was there waiting for me as usual. The weather in Phnom Penh was unusually mild for Cambodian standards. Vandeth did not talk very much at first, and later asked me questions about my family and children. He is truly a legal warrior but also a devout family man. Vandeth is the father of seven children and also has ten grandchildren. Relishing the importance of family, Vandeth cherishes family memories. He even had photos of my two children and Karen’s two children stuck on the wall behind his chair in the office. There was also an old photo of him and I, taken around 1999 in Hong Kong when we first met during a human rights training session organized by the Asian Human Rights Commission. We both looked significantly younger in that picture and it was interesting to see old memories of the both of us. When that picture was taken, I never thought our paths would cross again. Today, however, Vandeth and I are close colleagues and part of a great team of people from around the world working to “eradicate torture in the 21st Century.”

The following day we conducted a daylong training event at the Phnom Penh office attended by 18 staff members. It was an important event where staff from different IBJ provincial offices met each other for the first time. It was a time for people to get to know each other beyond their names and where they came from. They talked about our mutual commitment to the cause for which we are working and the significance of our work in the provinces where there is often not a single resident lawyer. They also tried to imagine the kind of justice system that they would like to see 20 to 25 years from now and formulated their goals and action plans accordingly in an effort to make these dreams a reality.



It was a Sunday and in the late afternoon, all staff got ready to leave for their respective provinces. For some it was a two to four hour trip to return home. For Rattanakiri staff of Legal Aid Cambodia (LAC), it was a ten-hour trip to the Northeastern hills where they were mainly providing legal representation to indigenous people. I felt privileged to be with this group of energetic and young individuals. There was determination and courage in them although they were working in very challenging and harsh conditions in provinces, where lawyer are most needed today in Cambodia. These individuals are making a difference. They are sending a strong message to the legal community in Cambodia that it is your moral and ethical responsibility to help your own people in Cambodia, especially in these remote provinces where your assistance could mean the difference between life and death, prison or freedom.

I’ll be based in Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capitol city (pop. 1 million) where IBJ’s office is located and traveling with IBJ Fellow Mr. Ouk Vandeth to document the work he does here in the many provinces throughout the country and here in the capital as well.

Let me pause here and give you a little explanation of his name because just reading it I got the pronunciation totally wrong. In Cambodia the Family name comes first and his is pronounced, in American English, like “You” without the “Y” and with a “K” on the end. His first name is pronounced “Wondet,” like “Wonder” but with a short “T” on the end instead of the “R.” Also of note is that in Cambodia you refer to people by their first name, so you’d say “Mr. Vandeth,” not “Mr. Ouk”. Things here are very casual in most situations it seems, so we just call him “Vandeth.”

I’ve had the first week to get myself acquainted with the city as Vandeth and Sarah Brundage (an American law student and IBJ intern here for 10 weeks) were out of town. So without further ado here are a few of the things I’ve seen in this bustling capital city.

Vandeth is asked to take on many more cases than he can possibly accept. He travels extensively, driving or taking a bus for hours to several provinces each week. At typical day involves an early start for several hours on the road, a morning of client interviews in prison and meetings with court officials to file documents, another few hours on the road, and an afternoon trial in another province!

When we visit our clients in prison, we are not allowed to photograph them in their prison issue clothing – royal blue shirts and trousers with a broad white border – nor were we allowed to see the inside of the prison cells. We meet clients in either a separate interview building, or as is the case in Kampong Chnang, at a wooden table outside the fenced in prison yard, with guards at a table behind us. Both men and women gathered in the dusty yard, drawing water from a pump, working with tools, or resting in the sliver of shade cast by surrounding buildings. A few kids were running around – very young children are allowed to stay with their mothers when the mother is incarcerated. Looking at all these people, I am struck by the fact that many of them will go through the court system unrepresented, and will spend many years in this very yard, imprisoned without access to justice.

In Pursat, we attended an inquest, a pre-trial proceeding where the investigating judge questions the accused and records his testimony as part of the fact-finding process. A defendant is questioned three times before the case goes to trial – once at the police station, once by the prosecutor, and once by the investigating judge. He has a right to have a lawyer present during all three of these interrogations. But due to the shortage of public defenders, this rarely happens. Our client, a young man I will call “K,” is charged with rape. Vandeth only received the case from the court after K had been interrogated by both the police and the prosecutor. The court papers say that he confessed to the crime at the police station. K says that asked his girlfriend if he could kiss her. As is typical in Khmer culture, she did not respond verbally. So he kissed her. That is all that happened – nothing more than a kiss. When K was arrested, the police asked him if he had raped his girlfriend. He did not understand what the word “rape” meant. Without a lawyer to advise him, scared, confused, and completely unfamiliar with the law, he said “yes.” The same thing happened when the prosecutor questioned him. K was arrested three months ago. He has been in prison ever since. The day of the inquest was the first time K had a lawyer. Vandeth has petitioned the investigating judge to send a report to the prosecutor urging him to dismiss the charges, but it is unclear what the outcome will be. In all likelihood, K will remain in prison for another 2-3 months until his trial.

This case illustrates the urgent need for rights awareness programming and for more public defenders in the provinces. We hope that our community outreach programs will reach rural young men like K, to teach them about their rights and educate them about the law. We hope that one day soon, there will be an IBJ lawyer at a newly established provincial defender resource center, to represent every defendant from the time of their arrest. We are striving to make sure that no one has to go through the system alone.