The Inhuman Rights Commission of the Maldives

Words fail me. If I were ever to have a burst blood vessel it should by all rights have occurred  this day. The 26th day of November would forever be imprinted on my memory for various reasons. Let's see if I am capable of communicating my story with its myriad twists and turns.

I woke up early in the morning, had a shower and shave and then donned my combat gear: camouflage pants, steel toed boots and a Polo t-shirt. I made sure I parked my AK-47 at home. I was going to the Department of Penitentiary and Rehabilitation Services armed with bona fide documents that established my identity as a criminal under life sentence.

The morning hours rushed by in a blur. There were e-mails that needed dispatching and meetings to be gone through. By the time I made it to the Penitentiary Department in the company of my brother Adnan it was half past twelve.

"Could you please get these forms stamped," I requested the girl behind the counter and handed over the High Court appeal forms.

"Where's the person?" she asked. She was referring to the person referred to in the documents and by all rights should be under the custody of the Penitentiary Department.

"Right here," I said tapping my chest with all the mock macho bravado I could muster.

"A moment please."

The moment turned into ten minutes. She was obviously consulting with her superiors.

"We cannot stamp these forms," she said, handing me back the forms. "We have not been informed that you are under sentence."

I handed over the court documents that established my credentials as someone under life sentence.

She took a look at it, handed the documents back to me without batting an eyelid.

"We have not been informed you are under sentence."

I realized the futility of arguing with her. I understood she was simply repeating what she was told to relay.

It was the response I had expected so I wasn't stymied. I walked out onto the street and in the company of Mohamed - a friend who had stopped by to pick me up - went straight to the office of the MDP Secretariat.

When I explained my predicament, Juha, who worked at the Secretariat, offered to accompany me to the criminal court. On the way, I suggested we stopped over at the Human Rights Commission of the Maldives to explain my dilemma. There, after introducing Juha and Mohamed to the Director, Nashat, explained my predicament stressing the need for urgency as the time limit for appealing was set to expire on December 2, 2007, according to my lawyer Shair.

"I will get onto this immediately. I'll call the criminal court and try and sort this out. I will call you before two thirty." Two thirty was the time government offices closed.

We walked out onto the street. Juha's suggestion was to leave the matter alone to give Nashat a chance to sort it out. However, having dealt with Nashat on several occasions I knew him and the way the Commission dealt with the requests for upholding individual rights. In my book he was a lackey of the Maldivian government and nothing more.

Mohamed and myself headed straight to the Justice Building. Juha headed back to the Secretariat.

Luck had not entirely deserted me. I happened to bump into the Justice Minister Mueez as he was about to enter the building.

We shook hands and I explained my predicament and stressed the need for urgency. He took me straight into his office - I had to admit the gentleman had class by glancing around his private domain - and immediately phoned Judge Areef and asked him to look into the problem, stressing the need for urgency.

"I do not want him to miss his right to appeal," the Minister stressed putting the phone down. Inside myself, I had to admit that here was someone who genuinely cared about people. He could have brushed me aside the same way Mr. Abdulla Kamaluddeen had done last Sunday evening after giving me an appointment to meet him.

"This meeting should never have taken place. I'm sorry but I have to terminate it," said the Home Minister Kamaluddeen when I explained the difficulties I faced with the Penitentiary Department. I had had the same problem with the Penitentiary Department earlier and the Penitentiary Department was under the jurisdiction of the Home Minister.

He was a Cabinet Minister and I, a convicted felon, who was presumably in hiding. After all I was sentenced in absentia.

I was ushered into Judge Areef's chambers at approximately one thirty p.m. We chattered for about ten minutes and then I was ushered outside while he checked the records personally to ensure whether the Penitentiary Department was informed of my status as a criminal under sentence.

It was around one forty five I received Nashat's call from the Human Rights Commission.

"The fact that you were sentenced in absentia means that you're in hiding and hence not entitled to any legal rights. You do not have the right to appeal either," said Nashat.

"My lawyer Shair says otherwise."

"I have spoken to two different lawyers and they are both of the same opinion."

It was precisely at that moment, the words inadvertently came to my mind. I was not dealing with the Human Rights Commission. I was dealing with the Inhuman Rights Commission of the Maldives.

"Okay - what do you suggest I do?"

"Write a letter to the Penitentiary Department and explain to them that you're under sentence and wish to be arrested," advised Director Nashat.

"Do you think I'm crazy? I do not wish to be arrested. I go there with bona fide documents bearing the letterhead of the criminal court that states I was sentenced in absentia. My requirement is to get the documents stamped in order to file my appeal at the High Court. The Penitentiary Department will decide whether they wish to arrest me or not," saying so I cut the connection.

A few minutes later I was ushered back into Judge Areef's chambers. He convinced me that he had done his duty as per regulations.

The chit reference numbers are 861, 862 / 2007 / 145 - A and it was received by one Miss Khadheeja from the Department of Penitentiary and Rehabilitation Services on September 10, 2007.

It was close to two-thirty when I walked out of the Justice Building. I had had enough excitement to last me the day.

I know the government will try their best to block my appeal because the documents I have in hand would easily prove perjury by members of the police and by extension an attempt to frame me. Nevertheless, I plan on making an appearance at the Penitentiary Department tomorrow.

The document being withheld by the police and the Human Rights Commission of the Maldives will prove I was arrested from two different locations at the same time. Needless to say, all this defies logic.