Shaka Aamer

Very little happens in the sleepy little town* in which I live. So it was interesting to hear that Shaka Aamer was being repatriated to the UK via Biggin Hill Airport after a fourteen year long imprisonment in Guantanamo Bay**. I'll admit I don't know a great deal about the case, other than the fact Aamer has been jailed without charge or trial. I'm not the person to offer a withering crique of US policy in this regard. But for a nation who strive to take other countries to task over their human rights abuses, Guantanamo remains a sizable elephant in the room.

Having watched a news report, I believe I saw Aamer's lawyer from the bus window of the 246,along with numerous policeman and cameras. It provided an interesting contrast with the rest of my afternoon, where I distributed vast numbers of betting slips in a parochial environment. Can one of you please remind me to get out of this town at some point?

*When I was a kid, I maintained that Biggin Hill was a village whilst virtually everyone else called it a town. I concede that it's slighly too big to be a village. But a town has basic amenities that Biggin Hill does not. Like a railway station. And a WH Smiths. The day Costa came to town, everyone practically lost their shit. The arrival of Domino's some time later prompted similar rejoicing.

** I once had to explain to my old Drama teacher (who was someone I liked very much and very good at their job) what Guantanamo Bay was. I recall being surprised that she didn't know. But I suppose at least we were spared some sort of interminable play on the subject.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'll See You In My Dreams

February In Film

June In Film