Is\nthis how human rights smell? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The\nstench from the decaying corpses of animals in a pit nearby whiffed into the\nbus where we, a group of theologians, church workers and community activists\nfrom South Africa, Zimbabwe and Kenya were parked on a manmade hillock\noverlooking the dump site on the outskirts of Mamelodi township, and still\nfurther away from the affluent east of Pretoria, South Africa. It was not safe for us to go any closer. The\nsupervisor of the site heaved himself into the bus, recounting the layout and\nworkings of the dump site, his words mingling with the stench outside. He tells\nof the different groups recycling different kinds of waste, how much they earn\nper kilogram compared to what the recycling company receives (and I thought the\ncompany did the recycling themselves). He tells of people giving birth on the\nsite, of occasional police raids and the people, mostly illegal immigrants from\nZimbabwe, disappearing for a day or two only to return and make their\nlivelihood on the site. He tells of fights between the different groupings on\nthe site and how dangerous it can be. There is a certain desperation in his\nvoice, but also an empathy. A participant from Zimbabwe sitting next to me,\nexplained that these immigrants were treated as garbage in Zimbabwe, mainly\ncoming from a group that opposed the governing party there\u2026and now they work\nwith garbage in these desperate circumstances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Is\nthis how justice smells? The question\nimplies that justice, and the effect of justice in a particular space is a\nbodily enterprise. So\nhow does justice smell, and specifically spatial justice? I am not quite sure,\nbut what I do sense that it is not only about the smelling of justice, but also\nthe tasting of it, the feelings of it, the speaking of it, the hearing of it;\nthe whole bodily experiencing of justice in a certain space. It is the embodied\nsensing of meaning in a space where justice is strived for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n