British daylight robberies!

Jul 18, 2009

HERE follows a tale of woe and shame, of how the mighty British Empire has shrunk from its former glory to deeds whose moral worth today would have its dead spinning in their graves.

By John Nagenda

HERE follows a tale of woe and shame, of how the mighty British Empire has shrunk from its former glory to deeds whose moral worth today would have its dead spinning in their graves.

There is something called a Hub in Nairobi, to where Johnny and Jennie Foreigner in the East African region must dispatch their passports to get a visa for the United (not very united!) Kingdom, aka Great Britain (see above).

In the Hub acts of near-devilry daily take place. Did George Orwell feature A Hub in 1984, his book of the sinister future?

He should be here today, but in his absence let those who have been touched by its mindless malevolence attempt to document it. (The British Empire, as so many others, did its nastiness on a colossal scale, ask the Natives who were devoured, but there was something of the Grand about it as well, far removed from the furtiveness and negativity of what the Hub stands for. That is the point: the “shrinkingness”.)

In the bowels of this place live men and women, specially chosen and then thoroughly trained to be as “No” as possible, to find any possible excuse to refuse people entry into what they regard, are trained to regard, as the pristine state of Her Majesty’s Britain, etc, etc.

These are people who dare not sign their documents, who must exist in a type of half-light; who, even when not evil in themselves, survive in an atmosphere where the Devil sups, and who, as they pass like whispers, leave an air of the King of Midnight even on the sunniest of days. Their work darkens the country they serve, and its only antidote is fumigation.

It is what all those who are able and willing must constantly do, to wipe the stain off the British Lion’s mane.

Only those who really think Britain matters today, who have a sense of history, who, in fact, like and even love Britain in its myriad ways, need bother. And here is a major ask: how many Britons alive today love and fiercely revere their country as once their ancestors did, and lived and died for
it?

Certainly, ironically it is not those who inhabit the bowels of the Hub, nor, perhaps (whisper this) those for whom they work. For if they did, they wouldn’t deal in such dishonour!
************

Why “Daylight Robberies”? To understand a major part of the British Visa game, you must realise that a massive sum of money gets paid for successful, and unsuccessful, bids for visas alike!

Human nature being what it is, the unsuccessful bid is the more profitable to Her Britannic Majesty’s Government. (Having shaken hands with her in ‘75 and again in ’07, I am confident that this most regal yet approachable monarch would be deeply shamed to think the country over which she reigns profits by such dubious means. So would those now resting in their graves who fought Slavery in another epoch.)

What happens is that the Shadows in the Hub will always sardonically advise you to try again, not indeed because they mean you to succeed, but because it makes money for them and their masters. This can continue several times, until the supplicant runs out of money, or indeed dies. You don’t believe?

In my son Frank’s saga, the High Commission in Kampala encouraged us to apply again, especially after His Excellency the High Commissioner, whom I had advised on the application, to no effect, had been summoned to Foreign Affairs to explain what had gone on. Poor fools, our guard down, we did so (let bygones be bygones). Big mistake! We asked for a multiple visa, spread over five years.

The unsigned letter stated it was “not satisfied Frank qualifies…for the long time visa sought”, and gave him the minimum six months, with conditions, AND pocketed the money for the full FIVE years!! How can this be morally right?

Could it be that these grey non-signers get their promotion depending on the loot they bring in? And you talk of Shylock?

One of Oscar Wilde’s most reverberating bon mot goes: “No good deed goes unpunished!” I did one such for the British High Commission to Uganda some years ago.

Seeing how strongly its visa policy was being reviled, of my own free will I carried out an investigation therein, and on the whole gave a reasonable bill of health. Oh my ancestors long ago! We say in Luganda, “Gwowonya eggere yalikusambya!” “Whose foot you heal, is the one who kicks you with it!” Did Oscar Wilde know Luganda?

Well, I have been savaged by the BHC’s puny kicks, including the daylight robbery of money from my pocket, cruellest cut. How should we reciprocate, retaliate? Myself, I have been much cheered by sympathetic messages in the media.

Country-wise, it should be measure for measure, the usual diplomacy programme. The ills visited upon us should be returned in equal measure. How satisfying if the money thereby gained could go to improve our High Commission, in London! They stamp in your passport that the visa has been denied; such a dreaded lasting-stigma message. Let’s do it, the fumigation of our enemy!

What about A Hub of our own, placed in Ireland or in Scotland’s granite (as in granite-hearted) city of Aberdeen, far from the London lights? Let such decisions be taken at the very next meeting of our regional Foreign Ministers.

The outcry raised should soon see us treated as Full Members of the Human Race: which is what it’s all about!

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