So here we are, folks. Another Tuesday, another Commonwealth country deciding that immigration law is best served as a political cudgel. Uganda, in a move that has all the intellectual rigour of a toddler learning to share, has blocked former Kenyan justice minister Martha Karua from entering the country. Why? Because reasons. The kind of reasons that come wrapped in diplomatic fog and smell faintly of authoritarian aftershave.
Now, Britain has waded in, tutting and clucking about the 'misuse of immigration powers' with the sanctimony of a teetotaller at a gin-tasting festival. Foreign Secretary David Lammy, presumably pausing between sips of something expensive, declared that the UK 'stands with Kenya' and 'deplores any action that undermines Commonwealth values'. Which is rich coming from a nation that has spent the last decade treating its own immigration system like a game of three-card monte played by a drunk chimp.
Let's examine the facts, shall we? Martha Karua, a woman whose CV includes fighting for democracy against a sitting president, is now deemed too hot to handle by Kampala. Why? Official sources whisper about 'national security concerns' and 'undermining bilateral relations'. Translation: someone in power has a thin skin and a long memory. Probably the same kind of person who bans books they haven't read and cancels journalists who spell their name wrong.
Meanwhile, Britain's condemnation is about as useful as a chocolate fireguard. Lammy's statement, full of words like 'regrettable' and 'concern', is the diplomatic equivalent of a strongly worded letter to a landlord who has just burnt down your house. 'We strongly advise you to stop setting fire to our property,' it says, while the flames lick at the curtains. Uganda's response, predictably, has been to yawn, adjust its tie, and ask if the UK would like to discuss trade deals instead. Because nothing says 'we take human rights seriously' like mixing them with tariff reductions.
This is, of course, part of a grand tradition. The Commonwealth, that jumble sale of former colonies and current headaches, has always been a theatre for this kind of farce. One day it's Kenya accusing Uganda of harbouring rebels. The next it's Uganda arresting a journalist for tweeting something mildly critical. And through it all, Britain plays the role of the well-meaning but utterly impotent uncle at a family dinner, nodding sagely while the kids punch each other under the table.
But let's not let Uganda off the hook. Blocking a former minister is not just petty. It's a signal. It tells every opposition figure in the region that they are only ever one border crossing away from becoming a non-person. It tells the world that in Uganda, the law is a flexible friend, willing to bend whichever way the wind blows from State House.
And what of poor Martha Karua? She's now in Nairobi, probably sipping tea and wondering if her passport is now a liability. She has called the move 'an affront to the rule of law'. But in the club of East African strongmen, the rule of law is treated with the same respect as a wet fart in a lift: acknowledged briefly, then ignored with extreme prejudice.
So here is the truth, served neat like a shot of cheap gin. Britain's condemnation is theatre. Uganda's block is politics. And somewhere in between, a woman with a spine of steel is reminded that in this part of the world, justice is a commodity, not a right. The Commonwealth values of democracy and human rights? They're on the same shelf as the unicorn tears and the honest politician: entirely mythical.
But at least we have the comedy. Always the comedy.
Stay angry, stay soberish, and for God's sake, check your visa before you queue for the border. Or prepare to become a symbol of the very thing you were trying to escape.
Biff Thistlethwaite, reporting from the edge of sanity.
