Corpun file 18322

Mmegi, Gaborone, 6 July 2006

Anti-illegal immigrant operation starts

By Onalenna Modikwa
Staff Writer

(extracts)

SELEBI PHIKWE: The Departments of Immigration, Labour and Home Affairs and the police and soldiers have started a joint operation to round up illegal immigrants in Selebi-Phikwe and surrounding villages and cattle-posts and lands. The operation is scheduled to take two days.

It started yesterday morning with a house to house search and roadblocks to vet passengers. The law enforcement officers even went from office to office in search of illegal immigrants.

[...]

The station commander Isaiah Makala stated that those found to have violated immigration and labour laws will get four strokes in the buttocks before they are deported. He said the law has been amended to flog such offenders at the Customary Court. Last year over 300 immigrants were rounded up in Selebi-Phikwe and deported to their countries. It has been established that many farm owners employ illegal immigrants hence such operations are extended to cattle-posts.

[...]

Corpun file 18329

Mmegi, Gaborone, 10 July 2006

Features

The Kgotla: Cradle of Botswana's Democracy

By Gale Ngakane
Correspondent

(extracts)

FRANCISTOWN: It is not called the cradle of Botswana's democracy for nothing because the customary court, an open-air affair, is where men and women - especially senior citizens of all persuasions meet to unravel society's conundrums.

Society's challenges might come in the form of court cases. Legend has it that in one of those court cases, a young man was adamantly denying responsibility for impregnating a woman. It got to a point where the grey-haired were left incessantly scratching their scalps, unsure as to how to come up with a convincing argument to convict the young man.

After what seemed like an eternity, an old man who sat at the periphery of the gathering thought it ripe for him to chip in and in a tired raspy voice said: "Can the father of the child please stand up?" The young man who was sitting next to the complainant, holding the child in question, shot up like the Discovery spaceship at its launch. "So, why did you take us from pillar to post when you always knew that you are the father?" the old man barked, leaving the young man bemused. His protestations did not bear any fruit because consensus was that the young man stood up voluntarily. He knew what he was doing. And the verdict: Guilty as charged.

That story flashes through my mind as I approach the gate to Donga Customary Court offices. There is an open and vast space between the gate and the offices. The offices and the space are enclosed in a hedge. Initially, I thought people sat on the open space between the offices and the gate, but quickly dismissed the idea as there were no trees or even man-made structures to provide a shade.

However, the mystery continues because on reaching the office blocks and sitting on one of the benches provided for the visitors, nothing indicated that the court was in session. Doors open and shut as customary court police officials and office workers, speaking in hushed tones, come in and out of the offices. They mingle with the crowd most of whom I assume have come for cases. Upon my whispered enquiry, a woman sitting next to me on the bench whispers back and points in the direction of one of the doors: "You can go in there. That is where cases are held."

The door is aptly inscribed COURT PRESIDENT and after a few raps on the door, a voice from within says: "Come in!" There are no other people in there except the court president, or kgosi, who introduces himself as Harmony Moyo. Dressed in a chequered khaki safari shirt and trousers, Kgosi Moyo is paging through the bible and I assume that must be where he gets divine inspiration when he presides over cases. As it is about lunch hour, I assume he will be presiding over more cases in the afternoon and when I enquire about that he responds in the affirmative. "But where are you conducting the cases?" I ask confusedly. "In here. I will call you in when sessions resume," he says.

Indeed at 2pm, a woman dressed in a German print pinafore arrives with a brood of children in tow. She barely sits on a bench when two other women arrive with a young man. The story of the young man who denied paternity re-occupies my mind as I sense another paternity case in the offing. As if acting on a cue, the court clerk opens Moyo's door and calls out the three women and the young man. She also beckons to me.

Inside the courtroom, the woman in a German print sits at the other end with the four children she had brought along. The other two women - one, a young woman with flowing braids tied with a scarf, and the other, matronly and bespectacled and wearing a shawl - sit with the young man at the other end. There are no witnesses and no audience as is the case with court sessions - either customary or otherwise.

[...]

As soon as the family stands up to go, a young man is brought in. He was tried in the morning for assaulting his girlfriend. He is sentenced to corporal punishment. I excuse myself, not wanting to be witness to the beating. A bald-headed man comes into the courtroom holding two strong (probably Mophane) lashes. The door closes behind him and the beating starts - four strokes. As to why he presides over the cases in camera, Moyo says they are in the process of erecting a leobo within the compound where the court cases would be held. "But even though we hold the cases inside this room, people are welcome to come in. They should not fear anything. This is an open court," he says.