In a development that has sent a tremor of panic through the gin-soaked corridors of power, two people are dead in Kenya as protests against a proposed American Ebola quarantine plan turned violent. The plan, which would have seen US troops effectively sealing off entire villages, has been met with the kind of enthusiasm one reserves for a tax audit or a visit from the in-laws. Reports indicate that the protesters, armed with machetes and a profound sense of grievance, clashed with police who responded with the sort of disproportionate force that makes a cup of tea seem like a radical act of pacifism.
The deaths, predictably, have been blamed on 'outside agitators' and 'misinformation,' though one suspects that the real misinformation was the belief that Africans would welcome a bunch of pale-faced bureaucrats in hazmat suits telling them how to die. The American ambassador, a man whose smile is as fixed as a yard gnome, has called for calm while simultaneously ordering all non-essential personnel to stay indoors. One wonders if the 'essential' personnel include the CIA operatives who were no doubt planning to 'stabilise' the region with a bit of old-fashioned democracy promotion.
The World Health Organisation, ever the voice of reason, has condemned the violence while carefully avoiding any mention of the elephant in the room: that this quarantine plan was cooked up in the same Pentagon labs that brought you Agent Orange and the war on terror. As I write this, a gin and tonic sits next to my keyboard, its bubbles rising like the hopes of the Kenyan people that their sovereignty might be respected for five minutes. But I wouldn't bet on it.
The empire has a habit of striking back, and it always strikes the hardest when it's losing.
