Max Pearson

I still remember the atmosphere in court as we waited for the jury's verdict. It was like being in suspense during a thriller. But my family still had hope that we would receive justice. It's the 20th of November 2000. Imran Samudhi and his fellow accused are waiting to hear their fate in the courthouse in the Mauritian capital.

Watching from the public gallery are their family and friends. The verdict was announced and our family broke down. My sister-in-law fainted. My parents were crying. They were devastated because our solicitor had given them false hope.

We knew human justice condemned us, but we trusted that, if not today, if not tomorrow, divine justice would free us. Imran was 38 when he went to jail. He had never been in trouble with the police. He had had a happy childhood, one of five children growing up in Port Louis, and he learnt the family trade of baking. We were a very happy family. By 1990 I had already had my wife and two children. Our life was great.

We loved organizing for a match, getting everything ready, sometimes one day or two days before. We would all get motivated, my friends, my mom, my dad, my whole family, getting ready for the match.

Even before the football ended, supporters had started breaking the seats. Other fans started throwing bottles and broken chairs around the stadium. When I got to the city, I joined the crowds throwing stones and rocks at the Motion Football Association building. I was angry. The referee had stolen the match from us. I saw fires and I said to myself, the police will come and there will be more trouble.

Next, Imran's older brother was called in for questioning. A week later, Imran and his younger brother were summoned by the police. They wanted us to tell lies on other people. For us to say this one was there, that one was there. I did not want to put innocent people in jail. I did not accept to name people that I did not see. Why would I tell lies to make other people suffer?

The previous year there had been street protests in Mauritius after the death of a suspect in police custody. Now, says Imran, the authorities were under pressure to get a conviction. We could see how the judges and the jury looked at the case. How all the arguments our lawyers presented were dismissed. This was a one-sided trial. We were made scapegoats to satisfy public opinion. To make people believe justice had been done.

She had no prior health problems, but the trauma and stress from those terrible moments, the prison visits, the pain of it all took their toll. It was a tragedy. Unacceptable. That is what justice did to us. So how did you get by during those years?

At one stage I was learning to be a tailor, but I wasn't very interested. Then I was given other responsibilities. During Ramadan my friend and I looked after the mosque. I took the opportunity to teach the Koran, hoping it would make some of the other prisoners change.

I accepted that if it was God's will for me to die in prison, despite being innocent, then I would die. But if his will was for me to be freed, then my innocence would be proven and my freedom restored. Imran now lives next door to the family bakery, which he runs with his son and other relatives.

When I came out of prison, I went to see the mother of the pregnant woman who died in the fire. I made it my duty. I needed to tell the family face to face, I am not your child's murderer. The mother said, I know, son. I know you did not do this. I know you are innocent. Many Mauritians still believe we are innocent and that we endured a grave injustice. For that, I am grateful.

Imran Sumodi oli puhunut Katie Harrisin. Se oli CTVC-produktion. Seuraavaksi Suomessa. Se on 70 vuotta, kun Tunisia on saanut ilmastonmuutoksen Suomessa vuonna augustin 1956. Ja uusi ilmastonmuutoksen hallitus on saanut ilmastonmuutoksen, joka on revolutioitunut naisen elämää. Socialistin presidenttiin, Habib Bourguiba, Tunisia on tullut ensimmäisen maan muslimiltaan, jossa on legaalisoitunut rikollisuus ja abortti ja poliigami.

Nidal Abu Murad puhui Said Al-Gayedille, joka on 2019 aloittanut Tunisian puolustusjärjestöä. Päiväkirjassa ainakin tänään Tunisian naisella on niin iloinen kuin ilma. Hänellä on valta, hänellä on oikeus osallistua jokaiselle yritykselle ihmisten kanssa. Kun naisen perustus on perustunut, naisella voidaan nyt viedä hänen asiaansa lukupuolellaan. Tarkoituksissa, tunnuskirjassa Tunisian naisella on niin ilmoittunut kuin eurooppalaisen ystävän.

The equal rights law was the biggest ever gain for Tunisian women. President Bourguiba said he was not just the liberator of Tunisia, but a liberator of Tunisian women as well.

Habib Bourguiba had led a 30-year fight for independence from France and become Tunisia's first president in 1956. Bourguiba's socialist vision for the country meant a bigger role for women and just a few months into his presidency he announced the Personal Status Code, a wide-ranging set of laws to achieve equality between men and women.

President Bourguiba asked her to help him explain the new laws to all Tunisians.

We always met with Bourguiba. Under his direction, we felt a great sense of duty and responsibility. He relied on us a great deal. The law changed women's lives completely. Said Al-Gayed says before the new law, most Tunisian women did not take part in public life.

It was not easy for women to go out back then. They would go to a funeral or a wedding, but going out to a meeting...

He said what is important is that women are allowed to be free to learn, to work and to escape their repressive situation. But he was accused of heresy. We called him the woman's martyr and he died penniless.

Saida herself had taken part in street protests calling for greater women's rights. So when the new code of personal status was announced, she was overjoyed. When the new laws were announced...