The American Spectator

p>Later, walking back down Moi Avenue to the World Social Forum rally, I passed long lines of Kenyans waiting to get on rumbling public buses. A uniformed man stood at the head of each line, randomly sweeping people with a metal detecting wand, just as I was randomly checked at my hotel. For some reason the scene called to mind the inscription on the black stone memorial at the bombing site: br> /p>

May the innocent victims of this tragic event rest in the knowledge that it has strengthened our resolve to work for a world in which man is able to live alongside his brother in peace.

br> Yet, while Nairobi is a wonderful city filled with many friendly people, nine years after the blast there is still fear. There is still inconvenience. Security culture, oppressive by nature, is as deeply entrenched here as at American airports. It is a tacit acknowledgment that life will never be the same.

I’m fairly certain Kenyans are not living in fear of George W. Bush cooking up some plan in the White House — you know, where every plan for terrorism is made — to blow up public buses or massacre tourists staying at local hotels. When my cab is stopped so police can search its trunk, they are looking for explosives, not Paul Wolfowitz.

After the rally, Americans and Europeans catch taxicabs out to the World Social Forum site proper, where statements of solidarity with indigenous people and plans for future action against evil war mongering American capitalists fly fast and furious. But few if any of the hundreds of seminars or panels deal with the fundamentalist ideology that turned a corner of this city to rubble. I’m sure they would argue globalization is the root cause, so why bother talking about reactionary Islamic militancy or the mangled innocent bodies left in its path? We wouldn’t want to cut into the fortieth “Sink the IMF” workshop.

Meanwhile in downtown Nairobi the buses idle so long the dust in your mouth begins to taste like the diesel in the air.