Deaglán de Bréadún, Foreign Affairs Correspondent, finds life and law surreal in Bogota, where the case of the Columbia Three was adjourned this week.
A street scene that could be a metaphor for Colombia. A man is standing in the rain, facing three rows of halted traffic. He is juggling a set of coloured balls in the air, the centre of attention. As the traffic begins to move, he will stop and tout for handouts from passing drivers and passengers. He's going against the tide, but it's fascinating to watch.
Likewise the Colombian legal and penal systems, as I have experienced them since I arrived last week to cover the trial of the so-called Colombia Three, the Irishmen accused of training Marxist FARC rebels in bombmaking.
Like the man tossing balls in the air, the court case is unusual, but it holds your attention. Magritte himself might not have dreamt up the juggler in the traffic, and both trial and prison have their surreal aspects also.
I asked a journalist who is resident in Bogota, how it was possible that a prosecution witness enrolled in the state's witness protection programme could not be located for the trial.
"It's Colombia," my colleague replied, not without sympathy. And why could they not provide an aircraft for the other witness, who was too scared to travel by road, especially since the military reportedly owns an airline? And was one of the prosecution lawyers really wearing a bullet-proof vest, as someone sitting close to him maintained? And did somebody really recruit a tramp from a nearby park to shout anti-IRA slogans for money at the courthouse? And where did the local TV station get the story about 80 "IRA supporters" crossing the border from neighbouring Venezuela to liberate their alleged comrades? And who was so intent on shooting one of the defence lawyers that young, unarmed idealists from the Netherlands and Spain were shadowing his every move, like guardian angels?
Then we have the prison. James Monaghan (56), Martin McCauley (40) and Niall Connolly (36) are housed in La Modelo, or in English "The Model" Prison on the outskirts of Bogota.
In April 2000, fighting between right-wing paramilitaries and drug-dealers left 27 dead and 43 wounded in the Model Prison. These were the known casualties: 16 other prisoners remained unaccounted for. In early July last year, a gunbattle between right- and left-wing inmates which raged for 17 hours left 10 dead and 23 injured.
In May 2000, Jineth Bedoya Lima, a prominent journalist, was invited to La Modelo to interview a paramilitary leader who said he wished to respond to her reports that right-wingers had executed fellow-inmates. While she waited at the gate - although the guards insist they saw nothing - she was abducted by a group of men and driven away to be beaten and raped before being abandoned at a garbage dump where she was found by a passing taxi-driver. She has since won several awards for her courage.
But when I succeeded in getting into La Modelo for a brief visit this week, it seemed a quiet and almost unremarkable place, apart from tall wire fences and the prevalence of blue-uniformed guards in flak jackets. A mural of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling adorned the yard. Despite the prison's appalling reputation, the three Irishmen are said to be somewhat safer here than in other jails because they are housed with several dozen members of left-wing guerrilla organisations and there is safety in numbers. But a man was reportedly found dead in one of the cells last week with the murder weapon placed on his chest. Like the juggler in the traffic, there are no rules that can't be broken.