Living in a kakistocracy is like surviving one hundred near-death experiences in a single lifetime. Every week there is a new apocalypse on sale. Secret vaccines for schoolchildren. Forced GMOs. Abducted youth. Mysterious massacred bodies. Human organ trafficking rackets. Sponsored goons. Stray police bullets.
New taxes arriving like mosquitoes after rain. Hospitals’ funds looted until they look like dispensaries. And now: Ebola.
Apparently Americans want to fly infected citizens into Kenya through some mysterious backdoor arrangement nobody voted for.
“The number one priority of our foreign policy is to protect the American people,” declared Marco Rubio, cooing like an overfed pigeon. “We cannot and will not allow Ebola into the United States.”
Translation? Keep the virus there. Export the risk here. Kenya is sitting on trillions of dollars worth of minerals. Extinction of the population is the goal.
Kenyans erupted. Not because we are paranoid but because we have seen this movie before. We remember the Covid lockdowns. We remember the billionaires fattening themselves while wananchi were beaten like donkeys for violating curfew at 7:03 p.m.
Kenya’s healthcare system is one big disaster away from becoming a crime scene. A country where patients carry their own gloves to hospital, buy their own paracetamols, and share beds is now expected to become an international biohazard warehouse. You begin to understand why people suspect every outbreak arrives carrying an invoice.
Covid was the rehearsal dinner.
Back then, before the first official corona case, connected men in exclusive clubs were already rubbing their hands together, saying they could not wait for it to land in Kenya so “money could start moving.” Then, suddenly, the World Bank announced emergency billions for vulnerable countries, and like a miracle Kenya discovered its first infection almost immediately, as though the virus itself had queued politely outside Treasury waiting for clearance papers.
The game plan never changes. Manufacture panic. Announce catastrophe. Borrow billions. Disappear the money. Problem. Reaction. Solution. Repeat.
Then came the lockdowns.
Police transformed overnight into pandemic evangelists armed with rungus, rifles, and tear gas.
In Mombasa, people trying to catch the Likoni ferry were whipped and clubbed and forced to lie on top of each other (so the corona can spread) two hours before curfew. In Nairobi, workers walking home were kicked around like footballs by the police.
In Embakasi, officers forced men and women to crawl on their knees on rough roads while whipping them from behind.
The virus had arrived, yes. But the first thing killing Kenyans was not corona. It was enforcement.
On the first evening of curfew, Calvin Omondi, a 23-year-old bodaboda rider, was riding home in Homa Bay County when police officers descended on him at a trading centre and beat him into a coma. He died days later at Rachuonyo Level Four Hospital. The area police commander denied involvement. Omondi, he said, had simply lost control of his motorbike and hit his head on a bridge. In Kenya, bridges had suddenly become very violent.
On March 28, Hamisi Juma Mbega, a 49-year-old former police officer turned bodaboda rider, volunteered to take a woman in labour to hospital in Kwale County. On his way home, police hurled a tear-gas canister at him near Mkunanazi, Likoni. He crashed. Then they beat him to pulp and left his body there like discarded luggage.
Yassin Moyo was thirteen years old. He was standing on a third-floor balcony outside their apartment in Huruma, Nairobi, watching the curfew chaos below when a police bullet pierced his stomach. The officer had used a scope to steady the aim. A child observing history became history.
In Ukunda, more than twenty officers cornered Eric Ng’ethe, a 23-year-old accountant, and eleven others inside a pub moments before curfew. The men locked themselves inside. Police fired tear gas through the windows, broke down the door, and then beat everyone with clubs. Ng’ethe died that night. The police later claimed he had died in a stampede after the group refused to obey orders.
In Kakamega, Idris Mukolwe, a tomato vendor, was struck by a tear-gas canister that exploded on his face. Friends rushed to help him, but police lobbed another canister toward them, forcing them back. They watched from a distance as Mukolwe convulsed and gasped for breath while officers stood nearby laughing as he took his last breath.
In the same place, police shot 24-year-old trader Grace Muhati with live bullets at the market. And fellow traders rushed her to hospital. Doctors later removed two bullets from her body.
In Nairobi’s Kayole estate, an anti-corona squad of seven officers stormed a residential block in Matopeni, Huruma. The building contained a shop, a bar, and rental rooms. The owner, a disabled man, was dragged across the ground because he looked suspiciously like a corona. They clobbered him and his wife for looking like the ‘fugitive’ they were searching for.
The officers then went to the tenants and smashed doors open room by room, searching for the fugitive virus. They beat tenants with whips and clubs from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. According to testimony later given to Human Rights Watch, when the officers failed to locate any coronavirus hiding under beds or behind cupboards, they settled to stealing electronics, cash, and household items instead.
In Busia County, Bernard Orenga was relaxing at home with his family when twenty-one officers from Nambale Police Station burst into his house. Their instincts had apparently informed them that Corona—now upgraded into a wanted criminal—was hiding somewhere inside.
They searched every corner with holy determination, smashing windows, cupboards, basins, water tanks, windscreens, furniture, and bulbs. Unable to arrest the virus, they turned on the family instead, beating Orenga, his wife, children, and neighbors before firing tear gas into the house to fumigate the corona.
The officers caused more than KSh 225,000 worth of damage.
In an unprecedented spectacle, sixteen male officers and five female officers from the station were later charged in court. It was perhaps the first time in Kenya’s history that an entire police station stood in the dock together. Then, mysteriously, the state dropped the case.
Over the following days, the police—karao, mabeast—proved themselves to be the actual pandemic. They extorted money, beat civilians, shot people, and terrorized neighborhoods across the country. In the first ten days, corona had officially killed one Kenyan. The karao-virus had already killed six and injured hundreds.
Soon the scoreboard read:
Karao-virus: 10
Corona-virus: 1
Then came masks.
Anyone found without one faced a fine of KSh 20,000, six months in prison, or both. Police chased unmasked wananchi through towns as though hunting terrorists. Some suspects were hit by cars while fleeing. Others were maimed or killed.
Most people discovered that the virus could also be cured instantly with a KSh 500 bribe.
“If you continue to behave normally, this disease will treat you abnormally,” said the new Health Cabinet Secretary, not a doctor but a public relations specialist. A man whose profession is to twist truth.
In Murang’a County, residents of Mathare village unknowingly bought face masks stitched from second-hand women’s underwear. The masks sold quickly because they were cheap—twenty shillings apiece. Only later did buyers realise the protective equipment covering their faces had once lived very different lives.
Meanwhile, television stations screamed all day like prophets announcing the apocalypse.
Corona! Corona! Corona kills! We are all going to die! Wuuuiii! We are finished!
Fear spread faster than the virus itself.
Juma Kotini, 35, from Kwale County staggered out of a local watering hole after what witnesses would diplomatically call “a committed drinking session.” He was heading home, minding his business and probably arguing with invisible voices in his head, when he got into a shouting match with a group of youths seated by the roadside. Their complaint was not political, economic, or philosophical. It was his violent cough—the most dangerous sound effect of 2020.
In those days, a cough could empty a church faster than a fire alarm. People feared sneezes the way villagers once feared locusts and eclipses.
The argument attracted bystanders, and within moments, the crowd had transformed into a fully operational Ministry of Pandemic Enforcement. The rowdy youths wrestled Kotini to the ground and lynched him with crude weapons for allegedly “spreading corona.” He sustained deep cuts to the head and was rushed to Msambweni Referral Hospital, where he later succumbed to the injuries.
Meanwhile, drama escalated at King Fahad County Referral Hospital in Lamu after a suspected coronavirus patient arrived seeking treatment. The patient, a 74-year-old Italian man, had initially been quarantined at Siha Hospital in Mpeketoni, Lamu West. Besides a high fever, he also suffered from the unfortunate condition of having travelled internationally at a time when passports had become biological weapons.
It was established that between March 3 and 4, the Italian traveled by Ethiopian Airlines from Rome, Italy, to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. He then traveled to Mombasa and finally to Malindi by a local flight before connecting to Mpeketoni, Lamu, by road. By that point, his itinerary alone was enough to cause hypertension in an entire county health department.
Officials from the Lamu County Health Department visited Siha Hospital and ferried the patient to King Fahd Hospital, the only facility with a Covid-19 isolation ward in the region. But they were in for a rude welcome. Angry residents and patients who got wind of the transfer blocked the hospital gate and refused to allow the patient in, as though coronavirus travelled with a brass band announcing its arrival.
Efforts to access the hospital proved fruitless, and the patient was eventually returned to Mpeketoni. Panic then spread through King Fahd Hospital with the speed and discipline of a Nairobi rumor. Several people stormed the facility and whisked away admitted relatives over fears of Covid-19 infection.
In the confusion, even comatose patients appeared to reconsider their condition. Some patients reportedly fled while carrying their IV drips like mobile television antennas as they scrambled for safety. Nurses moved from ward to ward trying to reassure patients that the hospital was safe, which in 2020 sounded very much like a flight attendant calmly announcing that one engine had merely “developed a small issue.”
Elsewhere men were beaten to death for coughing. Others for being outside. Others simply because police boredom is one of the most dangerous weapons in Kenya.
The state called it enforcement. The people called it tyranny.
Meanwhile, television anchors screamed every evening like Pentecostal pastors announcing the Book of Revelation.
“Corona is here!”
“We are all going to die!”
“Wash your hands!”
“Wear masks!”
“Keep social distance!”
This in a city where eight people can sleep in one corrugated-iron room the size of a fish bowl.
Soon, masks became a new currency of humiliation. Poor people without masks were hunted across estates like escaped prisoners.
Then came the tenders.
The sweet perfume of emergency procurement after the World Bank gave the government a billion bob.
Millions were spent on tea and mandazi despite a hotel offering free tea and snacks. Millions for fuel. Millions for airtime despite Safaricom offering free services. Ambulances leased at prices that could buy new ambulances. Counties were swimming in Covid billions while many lived hand to mouth, without adequate safety nets or significant savings. Many lacked disposable cash and could not stockpile food, nor did they have a sustained income to meet basic needs.
People got so broke that the rats in the house started playing with kitchen utensils knowing there was no money to buy rat poison. A loud chorus roared from the slums.
“Better to die of corona than die of hunger.”
Peninah Kitsao, from Kisauni, boiled stones in water so her hungry children would sleep believing food was on the way. Somewhere else a procurement officer was probably signing documents for imported sanitizer worth the GDP of Burundi.
This is how corruption works in Kenya. Tragedy for the many becomes opportunity for the few.
And debt. God, the debt.
Kenya borrowed money like a drunken sailor gambling inside a casino. Billions every day. Borrowed in the name of saving lives. In the name of emergencies. For the sake of science. By the end of it, the virus would leave, but the loans would remain sitting on our grandchildren’s backs like colonial ghosts.
At one time the kakistocracy was chewing about Sh136 billion a month or Sh4.5 billion a day.
The strange thing about fear is how quickly it becomes normal.
People stopped asking what corona was. They only asked whether the police would beat them before or after catching it.
That is the genius of a kakistocracy. It exhausts citizens until absurdity becomes routine. You wake up one morning and hear that Ebola might be imported into the country, and instead of shock, you simply sigh and ask:
“How much money are they expecting this time?”
It’s all about the money. The more Kenyans suffer the more money the international gangstas, the World Bank, and the IMF pumped into the kakistocracy. In fact, the president of Belarus had said he was offered a bribe of nearly a billion dollars by the World Bank to lock up his people. He refused and instead encouraged them to go to discos and cinemas and move on with their daily lives as usual. For this act of showing the world covid was a hoax, the Americans twice attempted a coup on his presidency.
Tanzania’s late president, President Magufuli, tricked his officials by giving them quail samples that were later found to have corona. He scoffed at the sham and encouraged Tanzanians to continue with their daily lives. He was eliminated. The late president Nkurunziza of Burundi urged his countrymen to continue living their lives and not bother with the corona hoax. He was poisoned by the Western cabal behind the psyop.
On Wednesday, April 1, the government unveiled two of its newest celebrities. Not musicians or footballers. But Coronavirus survivors.
Enter Brenda Cherotich and Brian Orinda, escorted into the national imagination through carefully choreographed press briefings by a communications machine that seemed less interested in informing the public than in auditioning for a daytime soap opera. Brian and Brenda had supposedly tested negative twice and were now the triumphant faces of recovery. Brenda, we were told, was Kenya’s first coronavirus patient, having returned from the United States via London on March 5. Brian, meanwhile, was reportedly patient number three and had allegedly contracted the virus from Brenda.
Then the plot developed ambitions.
During a teleconference with President Uhuru Kenyatta, Brenda said she had spent 23 days in quarantine. On NTV, the number mysteriously became 22. A day disappeared somewhere between State House and the television studio. Perhaps it was observing social distancing.
Her account of where she was treated also wandered. She said she presented herself at Mbagathi Hospital after developing a cough and fever and was isolated there. Later, in an interview on Citizen TV, she warmly thanked nurses and staff at Kenyatta National Hospital for helping her through the quarantine. The virus was not the only thing traveling.
The story became even more adventurous when Brian entered the conversation. Brenda initially insisted she did not know him before the coronavirus episode. Asked who he was, she explained that she first met him when he was brought into the isolation ward at Mbagathi. Moments later, however, she recalled that Brian had been among the people at a party in her house in Rongai after her return from the United States.
At this point, Kenyans watching from their living rooms began performing contact tracing on the narrative itself.
Brian appeared on television looking bewildered, like a man who had accidentally wandered onto the wrong set. Social media, never known for restraint, supplied its own theories. Some viewers swore Brenda kept glancing at him to check whether he had forgotten his lines. Others suggested he looked like someone abruptly summoned from a rehabilitation centre and handed a script five minutes before airtime.
As the contradictions piled up, one question lingered stubbornly in the public mind: if this was indeed the country’s most celebrated coronavirus recovery story, where were the photographs? Where were the hospital images of Brian and Brenda during treatment? In a country where every government event attracts more cameras than a celebrity wedding, the visual evidence seemed to be observing quarantine of its own.
Kenyans on Twitter’s FBI branch put everything to rest after posting photos of Brian and Brenda from years earlier enjoying a picnic with friends from campus. They had been lovers.
Since corona money flowed when people died from it, the kakistocracy got busy.
On the morning of 4 May, the law arrived carrying a court order. The State arrived carrying bulldozers. The court order lost.
Despite a ruling issued the previous day restraining the eviction, about 8,000 residents of Kariobangi watched as their homes were reduced to heaps of twisted iron sheets, splintered timber, broken rocks, and memories. The government had given them only verbal notice somewhere between 24 and 48 hours earlier, as if uprooting an entire community was the sort of errand one announces between breakfast and lunch.
No food was provided. No temporary shelter, water, sanitation, or even compensation. Thousands were left homeless in driving rain, exposed to the elements and dependent on urgent humanitarian assistance.
Then, on 15 May, the script moved to Ruai where their was more corona money to be made. More than 1,500 people were forced out of their homes at night, during curfew hours, beneath heavy rain. Families stumbled through darkness, carrying children, mattresses, and whatever fragments of life could be rescued before the demolitions advanced. No shelter awaited them. They slept outdoors in the cold, under the same rain that had witnessed their displacement.
The irony was difficult to miss. In a season when citizens were repeatedly instructed to stay home, thousands suddenly discovered that home had been flattened.
UN experts reminded the authorities of obligations that should not require reminding: stop further evictions, provide urgent assistance to those already displaced, and guarantee their rights to shelter, food, water, and sanitation.
As residents of a kakistocracy, they were left to fend for themselves, and if they died, then great! They would be labeled as “died of corona”. And the international Banksters would reward the kleptomaniacs with more money.
On April 19, Health CAS Dr. Mercy Mwagangi, now elevated to CEO Social Health Authority, a government health body famous for treating public funds as a private buffet, announced a brilliant innovation in pandemic management: anyone violating curfew rules would be arrested and sent to mandatory quarantine for fourteen days at their own expense.
The karao virus immediately mutated into its most aggressive strain.
Police officers swarmed streets, alleys, markets, and bus stops with missionary zeal, hunting down mask offenders and curfew suspects long before curfew hours arrived. Citizens became “suspects.” Suspects became inmates. Inmates became unwilling participants in a national experiment whose central question was: can you stop a virus by locking healthy people together with infected ones?
The quarantine centers—aka, corona incubation centers — consisted of converted schools and colleges, looked less like health facilities, and more like abandoned boarding schools after a student riot. Broken and overflowing toilets. Water disappeared. Food was scarce. Soap was a rumour. Some detainees slept on bare floors under sheets so thin they seemed symbolic. Tea was dispensed from communal containers, cutlery was shared, and social distancing remained a concept reserved for government press briefings.
Staff often ignored the ministry’s own protocols. Masks were optional, and so were the gloves, which were treated as decorations. Test results arrived late, if at all. Some inmates said nobody ever tested them. Others said medical personnel were as rare as government accountability.
Meanwhile, in Kibera, life continued with its usual soundtrack of frying fish, boda bodas, hawkers, and children chasing homemade footballs through crowded alleys. People were not ignoring COVID-19; they simply lacked the luxury of avoiding one another.
At the airport, returning travellers were squeezed together for hours while officials without masks or sanitizers barked instructions. They were packed into poorly ventilated buses and ferried to quarantine facilities where many felt less like citizens and more like specimens inside a petri dish. Some later tested positive and believed they had contracted the virus either at the airport or during quarantine itself.
Inside the facilities, however, one public service remained remarkably efficient: bribery. Those who could pay often found freedom. Those who could not found their confinement extended. Some remained locked up for over thirty days despite repeated negative tests. At the Kenya School of Government, police reportedly beat detainees who pleaded inability to pay.
The final irony was legal. Kenyan law requires quarantine orders to involve both a doctor and a magistrate, with costs borne by the government. During the pandemic, however, the law itself appeared to have been placed under mandatory quarantine.
Indeed, It was police officers who broke the corona rules with impunity. Newspapers spent acres of print railing at the karao-virus who were always drinking in bars while the rest of us faced a serious beating if you as much as stuck your head out of the door frame.
The Covid-19 billions arrived in Kenya like an inheritance dropped into a family already fighting over who owns the sofa.
Global Fund and USAID, apparently under the mistaken impression that medical funds should buy medicine, were less than amused by reports of inflated procurement deals and disappearing billions.
Investigations revealed that KEMSA bought medical supplies from private firms at prices so generous they could qualify as charitable donations to the suppliers themselves. The agency now got stuck with mountains of overpriced stock that it had to sell at a loss, proving that in Kenya even a pandemic can become a loss-making business venture.
Kenya Medical Supplies Authority (KEMSA) is a state corporation whose mandate is to procure, warehouse and distribute Health Products and Technologies (HPTs) for public health programs.
The scandal deepened when KEMSA failed to account for KSh 43 billion in COVID-19 funds. Meanwhile, donations from Chinese billionaire Jack Ma, including masks and testing kits meant to save lives, reportedly embarked on a remarkable entrepreneurial journey. According to anti-corruption activists, Jack Ma’s donation was stolen and, under heavy police escort, sent to Tanzania and sold. At least ten percent of the stolen loot eventually found its way back to KEMSA and sold to the government body at inflated prices.
As Kenyans demanded transparency, the Senate uncovered an even grander masterpiece: a Sh63 billion medical equipment tender described as being “conceived like a criminal enterprise.” What was intended for original equipment manufacturers allegedly became a relay race involving local firms and controversial subcontracting arrangements.
The result was a familiar Kenyan miracle. A tender worth Sh8.9 billion somehow expanded to Sh10.4 billion, proving that while medicines may expire, procurement budgets possess an extraordinary ability to grow and thrive.
Soon the battle for corona funds shifted to bigger players: Afya House, Kemsa, and Kebs. Hovering around them were billionaire suppliers, while local manufacturers and taxpayers occupied their usual seats in the departure lounge of disappointment.
Kagwe claims he became suspicious when imported PPEs from China seemed too eager to pass quality tests. He secretly removed the labels from some samples and sent them to Kebs. They failed miserably. The same PPEs, with labels restored, passed comfortably. Both reports were signed by the same manager. Kagwe ordered Kemsa to halt further imports.
The CS argues that import cartels sitting on warehouses full of PPEs were sabotaging local manufacturers, whose price was sh4,300 while the imported kits were inflated to sh15,000 and sold to KEMSA.
MPs learned that KEMSA is sitting on PPEs worth Sh6.2 billion while healthcare workers hunt for protective gear like a rare species. The agency bought N95 masks at Sh1,300 instead of Sh700, KN95s at Sh700 instead of Sh450, and surgical masks at Sh90 instead of Sh50—despite bulk purchasing. As if on cue, a Health Ministry-WHO study found some drugs in Kenya selling at double international prices.
As billions were being siphoned from the windfall, Kenya’s public doctors discovered an unusual government definition of front line heroism: work six months without pay, wear imaginary protective gear, and pray that coronavirus respects patriotism. Hundreds of health workers were already ill. To make matters more exciting, many say their medical insurance was cut just as hospitals began drowning in patients.
The result is predictable. Doctors, nurses, and laboratory technicians in several counties downed their tools. More than 300 doctors in Nairobi joined the strike, while thousands more threatened to follow. The country’s hospitals were filling up, intensive care units were groaning under pressure, and the health workers were themselves collapsing from exhaustion.
“Doctors are not martyrs,” declared Dr. Thuranira Kaugiria, a phrase that quickly became a rallying cry. Doctors, it turns out, are also not children of a lesser God.
Public anger boiled over after a television exposé alleged that nearly $400 million meant for fighting the pandemic had vanished into the pockets of well-connected officials and business figures.
The COVID Certificate Of Vaccination ID was a globalist plan to tag and bag the world populace through tracking and tracing to usher in a dystopian digital prison where “you will own nothing and still be happy” philosophy of the World Enslavement Fund (WEF). The main aim of this Satanist club is to reduce world population, control our movement, and then digitize everything through AI which is hidden inside components of mRNA which is nothing but a gene-editing toxin that alters your whole body from a God body to a synthetic digital-controlled body owned by WHO through switching off your God gene.
A virus that cannot kill 99.4% of the people it infected was now causing loss of religious freedom, mass unemployment, quarantine, forced vaccines, curfew, and trillions in bailouts. But the vaccine did its intended job—to kill and maim. According to their calculations, by 2028–2030, most of those who were injected with the bioweapon will be dead.
As far back as 2009, an investigative journalist had sounded the warning of a plan to undermine national sovereignty by using forced injection of a “biological weapon” that uses nanotechnology as weapons of mass destruction.
Japan actually declared a national emergency after nanobots were found in 96 million citizens injected with the bioweapon..
Every batch of vaccine had a different formula. Lot numbers ending in 20A through 20F were simply saline water and harmless. This went to pharmaceutical executives, politicians, celebrities….
Lot numbers ending in 21K through to 21X had moderate adverse effects that included blood clots, fatigue, Myocarditis. Hospitalization went up 300 percent. This lot was for the easy-to-control people who would be told mild symptoms are “normal.” Usually they were sent to urban regions where people have high media consumption. In other words, easy-to-control zombies.
Lot numbers ending in 22R through 22Z created cardiac arrest, neurological damage, and catastrophic stroke; death rates went up by 8,100%. This lot was sent to people who were most likely to resist. Independent businessmen, first responders, doctors, and communities with low compliance to mandates. American doctors called it the “kill shot” and still injected it on tens of millions of Americans, the majority of whom were Trump supporters.
As Dr. Michael Yeadon, a former Pfizer executive said, there was no pandemic and the lie was maintained (through media) in order to inject 5.5 billion people with an intentionally dangerous substance, tens of millions of whom have died so far. It was always about convincing millions of people to willingly roll their sleeves now, 29 to 60 million are permanently disabled and 500 to 900 million injured, as the numbers grow daily while the rates of deaths, cancers, heart attacks, and chronic illnesses have shot up worldwide since then.
We went from a bat story to masks to police clobbering people and to tanking the economy in 3 months—all of it planned by Bill Gates and his cronies.
The cure for corona was simple and cheap: Ivermectin, Hydroxychloroquine, chlorine dioxide, among many other meds which the media demonized but eventually were proven effective after poisoning the world. The aim is to reach the UN sustainable goals for 2030, which is a euphemism for the reduction of half the world population by 2030 and 90% elimination of the human race by 2045 through injection.
The fraud goes like this: use Gain of Function, make a vaccine beforehand, pay media for fear porn, pay the politicians, make a simulation, say it happened naturally, jail those exposing the fraud, force the vaccine, and then you get compliance cancer.
The new plan for the dissemination of the Ebola and hantavirus viruses on the world population was already planned in 2021, with the patent filed on September 15, 2022.
In September 2024, investigations were launched into a lab breach in Queensland, Australia, with vials of Hendra virus, lyssavirus, and hantavirus missing. An year later Moderna went into a full-scale collaboration with the Vaccine Innovation Center at Korea University College of Medicine to develop an mRNA-based hantavirus vaccine. On 15th January they were already testing a hantavirus vaccine. “Hanta” meaning in hebrew — nonsense, lies, a scam, or fraud, according to grok.
The CDC, which is a vaccine company, actually filed an application to the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office in 2008 to be allowed to be in control of one of the strains of Ebola called Bundibugyo Ebola Virus that American scientists isolated in late 2007.
In the application, the CDC sought to be given control of how that particular Ebola strain is accessed, who is allowed to work on it, which labs can store it, and how the virus samples are moved between different facilities: This is patent application number 20120251502 A1 entitled “Human Ebola Virus Species and Compositions and Methods.”
They stored a sample of the Bundibugyo Ebola in a CDC lab on Nov 26, 2007. It was then given a reference number (200706291) so that it can be tracked and accessed by the CDC scientists. It is clear from the application that CDC wants to be in charge of the Bundibugyo Ebola so that the American agency/agencies can be detecting it in patients, studying it, and developing a vaccine.
So, instead of sending the sample to an international patent deposit bank as required under the 1977 Budapest Treaty on the International Recognition of the Deposit of Microorganisms for the Purposes of Patent Procedure, the US government agency kept it in its facilities and has been seeking to be given its control for 30 years. This means that US labs can request access to the virus ostensibly for scientific research, diagnostics, and vaccine or treatment development. The CDC stores samples of Bundibugyo Ebola virus in high-security labs.
Bill Gates, the man whose former doctor says refused to vaccinate his own children (because vaccines are poisons) on 8th January this year gave Moderna and Oxford $26.7 million through his enterprise CEPI to develop Bundibugyo Ebola mRNA shots four months before the DRC outbreak.
Oxford is spearheading the development of new vaccines against multiple filoviruses, including Ebola, Sudan virus, Marburg, and Bundibugyo.
What is worrying is that the United States military scientists have been having tests and experiments at KEMRI in Kenya which they now run. Right now, anything goes in this country! All these “outbreaks” are controlled exercises!
Earlier this year, Vincent Munster, an NIH virologist travelled to the DRC with NIH scientist Claude Kwe Yinda. When they returned to the US, they were stopped for an airport security check that revealed “pathogen samples collected from patients.” The samples included Monkeypox virus.
An insider working for Bill Gates has said they already sneaked Bundibugyo to the US and already infected some people, and it will all flare up at the beginning of the World Cup.
There has never been a virus in existence; they are all created in American military biolabs and by Bill Gates’ cronies, who include Jeffrey Epstein.
All viruses have patents since they’re man-made. Human Ebola virus. Patent: US-9790473-B2. Inventor. Towner Jonathan S(US), Nichol Stuart T (US), Comer James A (US), Ksiazek Thomas G (US) and Rollin Pierre E.
CDC patented viruses: AIDS US-patent 5676977, H1N1: US Patent 8835624, Ebola: US Patent 20120251502, Swine Flu: US Patent A2741523 A1, BSE: US Patent 0070031450 A1, Zika ATTC VR-84 (Rockefeller), SARS US Patent — 7897744 and 8506968, Corona virus US Patent 10130701.
If Bill Gates is involved avoid it. If the government says its true its false. If the CDC/ FDA says its safe its dangerous. If the media agrees it’s a lie.
It is no coincidence that the Ebola appears in mineral rich places. In DRC it is near cobalt mines, in Uganda they discovered a huge stash of gold deposits worth hundreds of billions of dollars. Kenya has minerals worth tens of trillions of dollars and it is no coincidence that Laikipia where they are setting up their Ebola center has trillion dollars worth of minerals. Their plan is to infect Kenyans so they can siphon the minerals without scrutiny.
It is no coincidence that the people of DR Congo are now burning the so-called isolation centers because they have experience and knowledge that this diseases are always brought in by the white man whenever they need to pluck free loads of minerals.
In Kenya people had already realized that the corona is a disease that only affects people who like watching TV. More than ninety percent of the country never wore masks and no one got ill.
On the shores of Kisumu, the Karao-virus arrived breathing teargas and authority. It smoked people out of their houses, dared them into the streets, then proceeded to maim, clobber and occasionally kill in the name of hunting corona. Children choked on gas. Women reported rape. The virus was clearly working overtime.
Then something strange happened.
At exactly 9 p.m., two hours into the dusk-to-dawn curfew, the residents decided that if one virus could roam freely, another one could be dealt with. They emerged from their homes armed with sufurias, cowbells, metallic basins, and any household object capable of producing noise. The target was not corona but Nyawawa—the wandering satanic spirit that Luo folklore occasionally blames for calamities, epidemics and other inconveniences of existence.
From Obunga to Kajulu, from Mamboleo to Bandani, the night exploded into a metallic orchestra. Pots clanged. Bells rang. Tin sheets rattled. Entire neighbourhoods sounded like a factory being possessed by ancestors.
The Karao-virus continued its rampage until it rounded a corner and stumbled into an anti-Nyawawa squad.
What followed was pure Kisumu.
Stones nestled in slingshots achieved velocities usually associated with jet fighters. Projectiles sliced through the air with Olympic precision. Teargas canisters responded from every conceivable direction. Soon nobody could tell whether the sky was raining chemicals or rocks.
Then Kenya’s undisputed stone-throwing champions took control of the match.
Every retreat by the Karao-virus was met by fresh barrages. Every advance was answered by a fusillade of projectiles. The teargas drifted endlessly. The stones arrived with remarkable punctuality. Before long, the Karao-virus found itself being thoroughly disinfected from every corner of Kisumu and chased all the way back to the corona pits from which it had apparently emerged.
For one unforgettable night, Kisumu declared war on two viruses—and only one survived.
A blogger called up next morning seeking a comment and instead found himself speaking to an inspector of police in a state of near-professional despair.
The inspector said they were hot on the trail of a mysterious individual suspected of running a thriving tear-gas distribution network within Kisumu city. Intelligence reports, he claimed, suggested that every household now possessed at least two teargas canisters, neatly tucked somewhere between unga ya ugali and cooking oil.
The police were having a difficult time implementing the curfew. His boys were growing increasingly reluctant to patrol under such hostile market conditions as they were being met “with equal force.”
Every corner they turned seemed to produce a cloud of familiar fumes. The karao-virus would launch tear gas only to find residents returning the merchandise with unusual vim and vigor. And something else, they never got tired and didn’t retreat.
“My boys are very traumatized,” the inspector said.
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