By Ukes Baha | 2025
They called it a Royal Commission. They called it an investigation. But it was neither. It was a shield — carefully constructed to protect those in power, sanitise violations, and ensure no real accountability. It didn’t ask why healthy people were locked inside. It didn’t ask why workers were dismissed. It didn’t ask who profited. Because it already knew.
I witnessed the beginning — not from the news, but from the runway. I worked at Auckland International Airport as a logistics driver and Health & Safety Representative for LSG Sky Chefs. From late 2019 into early 2020, while the media broadcast global panic, our operations continued as normal. No one at our site was sick. No reports from China. No extra precautions. When I raised concerns about Chinese flights, I was told there was no risk. No one — in Auckland or globally within our network — had reported any issues. The CEO himself reassured us: everything was under control.
Then came 11 March 2020. The World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic — and suddenly, everything changed. Not because of sickness. But because of the script. Airlines like Qantas ceased operations. New Zealand imposed its first nationwide lockdown from 25 March. And within weeks, 85% of our workforce — including myself — was made redundant. A stable job, lost to fear and foreign pressure.
The transformation was surreal. One day, masks were “unnecessary.” The next, they were mandatory — even though the virus was known to be smaller than the masks could filter. Trolleys were covered with cheap plastic film. Planes once serviced freely were now treated like biohazards. No one questioned the logic. Because questioning had become disobedience.
What followed was not a public health response. It was a global conversion — from evidence to obedience. From sovereignty to submission. Dissent was punished. Rights were revoked. And people like Bill Gates, Anthony Fauci, and Pfizer executives emerged not as advisors, but as de facto authorities. Unelected. Untouchable. Unaccountable. Even elected leaders — like Jacinda Ardern — became mouthpieces, enforcing imported policies under the veil of compassion.
I saw enough. The story wasn’t making sense. Three calm months — and then chaos by command. The virus didn’t shut the world down. The declaration did. And the ones pulling strings weren’t doctors in clinics. They were elites on world stages.
So I left. I travelled to Tanzania — one of the only nations that refused the script. Under President John Magufuli, there were no lockdowns. No forced jabs. No censorship. No emergency powers. Life was normal. Borders were open. The streets were calm. And people were free. It didn’t confirm what I suspected — it amplified what I already knew: COVID-19 wasn’t about health. It was about control.
Magufuli made the fear campaign look absurd — until he mysteriously died. His successor enforced face masks and softened the stance, but Tanzania never descended into authoritarianism like New Zealand, Kenya, and few others. It became a quiet proof of sanity — in a world hijacked by madness.
This exposé is not a theory. It is not speculation. It is lived testimony — from the runway to redundancy, from New Zealand to East Africa. This is the part they tried to bury. But truth doesn’t rot in silence. It returns.
If you’ve ever felt something wasn’t right — you were correct. If you lost your job, your rights, your trust — you’re not alone. This is our story. And it must be told. Because the next script is already in rehearsal.
I was working at Auckland International Airport, contracted through LSG Sky Chefs, when COVID-19 began making international headlines. As Health & Safety Representative and a frontline logistics employee, I expected protocols to change — but they didn’t. Planes from China continued to arrive. No extra precautions were taken. When I raised the issue, I was told there was no cause for concern. No employee in our global network had been affected. And that was the official word — reinforced at an all-staff meeting by the company’s CEO himself.
On the ground, everything remained normal. Flights came and went. No symptoms. No sick days. No masks. Not even a hint of a local issue. For nearly three months, the crisis existed only in media headlines. At the airport — where exposure would’ve been highest — there was nothing. No outbreak. No panic. No visible threat.
Then came 11 March 2020. The World Health Organization declared a global pandemic. And almost overnight, New Zealand flipped. Not because anything had changed on the ground — but because the script had arrived. Within days, emergency powers were invoked. Borders were closed. “Essential flights only” began 25 March. Qantas ceased operations. And just like that, an entire airport ecosystem began to collapse.
Our team was told there was no more work. There were no more carts. No more deliveries. No more flights to serve. Within weeks, 85% of LSG Sky Chefs staff — myself included — were made redundant. A job once considered stable and long-term had vanished. Not because of illness. But because of orders.
What changed wasn’t health. It was hierarchy. One declaration from a foreign body had the power to override all local evidence, silence caution, and shut down entire industries. A calm, operational airport was reframed as a biosecurity threat — not by science, but by decree.
That moment wasn’t about safety. It was about compliance. I watched as perception was replaced by protocol. Workers were discarded. Logic was suspended. And public trust was handed over to unelected globalists.
There was no health emergency at Auckland Airport. There was only a command — followed without question.
The global shift didn’t begin with body bags or outbreaks — it began with a word. On 11 March 2020, the World Health Organization (WHO) declared COVID-19 a pandemic. That one term, spoken from a global stage, triggered policy changes in dozens of countries — including New Zealand — as if on command.
But let’s be clear: there was no catastrophic death toll. No overwhelmed hospitals in New Zealand. No emergency on the ground. The declaration wasn’t based on visible harm. It was based on computer models — theoretical projections and fear-based simulations. Years earlier, the WHO had quietly redefined what a pandemic meant, removing the need for widespread death and allowing declarations based solely on spread.
That single linguistic shift gave unelected officials the power to lock down nations. And New Zealand obeyed — despite months of normal airport operations and no crisis to speak of. The state of emergency was declared. Borders slammed shut. Travel was halted. Movement restricted. All based on a foreign body’s proclamation, not domestic evidence.
And behind that declaration stood the real engine: private power. The Gates Foundation — the WHO’s second-largest funder — had been preparing the narrative for years. Just five months prior, in October 2019, Bill Gates co-hosted Event 201: a high-level pandemic simulation that eerily mirrored what soon unfolded — global lockdowns, media control, censorship of dissent, and an international push for vaccines as the only solution.
When the WHO made its announcement, it didn’t initiate panic — it activated a script. It handed the reins to unelected global figures and sidelined national sovereignty in the process.
From that point forward, science was replaced with signalling. Evidence was replaced with enforcement. Reality was overwritten — not by disaster, but by decree.
The pandemic script may have been authored by global actors — but every script needs its local cast. In New Zealand, that role was carried out with polished obedience by Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern. In a country with no visible crisis, she implemented one of the harshest lockdown regimes on Earth.
She declared herself the “single source of truth” — a phrase that should have triggered alarm in any functioning democracy. But instead of questioning it, the media amplified it. Every broadcast became a sermon. Dissent was smeared. Critical voices were silenced or labelled as threats to public safety.
Behind the carefully managed smile was a cold, calculated expansion of power. Emergency laws were invoked. Public funds — including the Public Interest Journalism Fund — were used to secure editorial compliance and shape the national narrative. Parliamentary scrutiny was bypassed. Mandates were imposed with sweeping authority — from lockdowns and curfews to border closures and vaccine passes.
Thousands lost their jobs for declining to comply. Businesses were shut. Rights were suspended. Those who suffered injuries, unemployment, or isolation were ignored. And while the country was told it was all “for your safety,” Ardern's political profile soared — re-elected with media support, and marketed globally as the gold standard of pandemic leadership.
But this wasn’t leadership. It was stage-managed authoritarianism — dressed in empathy, executed with PR precision. Ardern didn’t resist the global agenda. She personified it. And once her role was complete, she was rewarded with international speaking tours, advisory positions, and global accolades.
But no award, no title, and no resignation can rewrite what was done under her watch — or erase how perfectly her government aligned with the unelected forces behind the script.
After witnessing the manipulation firsthand — and being made redundant through no fault of my own — I made a decision that changed everything. I left New Zealand. I flew to Tanzania, uncertain of what I’d find. What I discovered didn’t just surprise me — it confirmed everything I had already come to understand.
There were no lockdowns. No curfews. No media panic. No checkpoints. The airport was open. Flights arrived and departed without drama. People lived, worked, gathered — free from fear and free from coercion. It wasn’t chaos. It was calm. It was normal.
The difference wasn’t accidental — it was deliberate. President John Magufuli had rejected the global playbook. He questioned the PCR testing. He challenged the WHO. He refused to shut his country down based on donor-driven pressure or unproven models. He upheld sovereignty while others surrendered it.
And he was right. Tanzania didn’t collapse. There were no overflowing hospitals. No waves of unexplained death. Life carried on — responsibly, but freely. It became a living counter-example to everything we were told was “necessary.”
I lived there peacefully. No one I met was ill. Not even with a cold. What struck me wasn’t just the absence of sickness — it was the absence of fear. And in that silence, the truth became unmistakable: the real contagion wasn’t a virus. It was manufactured panic.
My departure wasn’t an escape from disease. It was an escape from deception — from a government that obeyed a lie, and a society that had forgotten how to ask why.
When I first arrived in Tanzania, I stayed in Zanzibar. It was unlike anything I’d seen during the so-called pandemic. Tourists were still pouring in from different countries. The airport was open. Hotels were busy. There were no masks, no lockdowns, and no tension. People were living — freely, normally, without fear. It wasn’t chaos. It was calm.
In my second month, I travelled inland — guided by a local and joined by three new Masai friends. We visited remote Masai villages where life remained untouched by the global panic. From there, we headed to Namanga, the Tanzanian-Kenyan border, where I was reunited with my partner — brought across by her brother from a country under strict lockdown.
The contrast was overwhelming. Kenya had closed its borders, sealed cities, imposed curfews, and militarised movement. News reports, my partner’s family, and others we met described life under fear and force. Even crossing regions required bribes, permits, or special clearance. It was a script of control — imposed not by local need, but global order.
After our reunion, we returned together to visit the Masai friends once more, then settled in Morogoro — a peaceful region in central Tanzania. We bought a small plot of land to build a home and begin a life rooted in simplicity and small-scale farming. We stayed there for a year — travelling frequently to nearby towns and cities, with no fear and no sickness anywhere.
I also travelled to the far ends of the country to renew my visa — once to the Rwandan border, and twice to the Zimbabwean side. These long journeys were made by bus, crossing city after city, region after region. Not once did I witness a health crisis. Not a single outbreak. No panic. No body bags. Just ordinary life, unfolding peacefully.
Kenya — one of the most corrupt nations — followed the WHO script with brutal precision. New Zealand — ranked among the least corrupt — did the same. Border closures, mandates, curfews, censorship. Different continents, same obedience.
So what do these rankings mean — when both countries imposed the same restrictions, crushed the same rights, and bowed to the same foreign power? This wasn’t about national leadership. It was about global control — and the mask of legitimacy it wore in each place.
My partner and I lived both sides of that divide — one dictated by fear, the other anchored in reality. And what we learned is simple: when propaganda stops, life begins.
The more I travelled, observed, and connected the dots, the clearer it became: this was never about a virus. It was about how the virus was weaponised. Not to protect lives — but to control them. Not to inform — but to indoctrinate. The goal was never health. It was obedience.
The devastation didn’t come from infection. It came from instruction. From governments that followed foreign orders instead of local reality. From lockdowns, business closures, forced testing, digital tracing, border shutdowns, vaccine mandates — all enforced not with medical necessity, but with political force.
In New Zealand, they called it “science-led.” In Kenya, they called it “for public safety.” In both cases, the result was the same: poverty, trauma, censorship, division, unemployment, suicide. Not from COVID — but from the policies wrapped around it. This was not a health emergency. It was a manufactured policy crisis, dressed in medical language to silence resistance.
Now, in 2025, the New Zealand Royal Commission has begun sanitising the record. It calls the mandates “reasonable.” But what’s reasonable about the mass dismissal of workers, the forced injections, the collapsed livelihoods, the silencing of doctors, the separation of families, and the rewriting of laws to cover unlawful acts?
Around the world, whistleblowers are coming forward. Victims are speaking out. The injured are demanding recognition. But in New Zealand, the official inquiry is not exposing the truth — it’s preparing the next script. A simulation disguised as scrutiny.
When so-called democracies follow the same authoritarian playbook as openly corrupt regimes — that’s not a coincidence. That’s coordination. When “trusted leaders” deliver identical policies as known dictators, you’re not seeing public health in action. You’re seeing international control by design.
The global script required local actors. In New Zealand, key figures didn’t just follow orders — they enforced them. From mandates to media manipulation, these officials became the face of compliance, censorship, and coercion — all under the branding of “kindness” and “unity.”
These actors helped convert global scripts into national policy — not through consent, but through fear, exclusion, and repetition. Their legacy is not public safety. It’s public submission.
While the architects designed the global script, it was executed by local hands. In New Zealand, a handful of powerful figures and institutions became enforcers — not protectors. They didn’t question the WHO. They obeyed it. And they reshaped the nation around it.
These were not public servants. They were policy executors. And under their watch, a once-free country was recast into a compliance model — where law bowed to emergency, and obedience replaced truth.
No narrative can dominate globally without control over information. That control didn’t come from science or medicine — it came from corporations. Big Tech and public health regulators became the gatekeepers of thought. Their job wasn’t to protect the public. It was to protect the script.
These were not neutral platforms or public protectors. They were instruments of narrative enforcement. Truth was filtered. Dissent was buried. Real harm was rebranded as rare — or erased. These corporations didn’t protect people. They protected power.
The uniformity of the COVID response — across borders, ideologies, and economic systems — wasn’t a coincidence. It was coordination. And that coordination wasn’t spontaneous. It was rehearsed. Years in advance, the key players wrote and tested the script. By the time COVID arrived, all they needed to do was press play.
None of this was hypothetical. It was strategic infrastructure — activated at the perfect moment. The pandemic didn’t require invention. It simply required execution. What the world experienced wasn’t spontaneous chaos. It was scripted crisis.
And the public’s fear wasn’t a by-product. It was the precondition.
The truth didn’t vanish on its own — it was erased. Not disproven, but suppressed. The COVID narrative survived not because it was sound, but because dissent was systematically crushed. Those who spoke out — no matter their credentials, evidence, or personal experience — were treated as threats to be neutralised.
These voices were not fringe. They were firsthand. They were factual. And they were silenced not because they were wrong — but because they exposed what could not be defended.
When truth is punished and lies are protected, you're not witnessing system failure. You're witnessing system design.
For all the talk of science and safety, what drove the pandemic response was far simpler: money. Billions flowed — not to the people who suffered, but to the corporations, governments, and institutions that managed the narrative. Behind every restriction was a transaction. Behind every mandate, a profit motive.
This wasn’t health policy. It was emergency capitalism. The public was locked down while the elite cashed in. Fear was monetised. Obedience was profitable. And dissent — the only thing that threatened the flow of money — had to be silenced.
If the pandemic response had truly been about health, the contracts would have been public, the injured would have been heard, and the profits would have been capped. Instead, secrecy, denial, and enrichment ruled the day.
When vastly different countries behave the same way at the same time — regardless of local context — you’re not seeing independent decisions. You’re seeing coordination. From Kenya to Canada, New Zealand to the Netherlands, the same script was followed. That’s not culture. That’s control.
When both “corrupt” and “clean” governments do the same thing, you’re not witnessing moral alignment. You’re witnessing systemic orchestration. The virus was used — not to protect, but to centralise. And those who questioned that system became its targets.
Control didn’t spread like a virus. It was injected — globally, simultaneously, and without consent.
The pandemic may be over on paper — but the architecture it introduced is still standing. The lockdowns, mandates, censorship, and emergency powers weren’t temporary measures. They were part of a global shift: a coordinated move to normalise authoritarian policy under the disguise of crisis management.
The New Zealand Royal Commission was never designed to expose failure — it was built to sanitise it. It ignored injured citizens, excluded critical voices, and reframed illegal mandates as effective governance. It didn’t investigate — it rehearsed.
Behind the scenes, the same hands still write the script: the World Health Organization, Gates Foundation, World Economic Forum, Pfizer, and global banking networks. They are unelected. Unaccountable. And more powerful than the governments that now follow their lead.
COVID-19 didn’t elevate public health — it elevated private influence. It made billionaires the decision-makers and turned nations into clients of foreign agendas. Elected leaders became enforcers. Policy was dictated externally. Debt rose. Freedom shrank.
Even after stepping down, key enforcers were rewarded. Jacinda Ardern received $30 million from the Gates Foundation — not for public service, but for furthering a foreign agenda. The money wasn’t a national donation. It was a personal investment in future influence.
Not all followed blindly. Tanzania, under President John Magufuli, stayed sovereign. It rejected foreign scripts, upheld rights, and remained open without mass illness or collapse. It became a quiet refuge while others descended into fear and obedience.
The next “emergency” may look different — cyber, climate, economic. But the mechanism is already live: global messaging, centralised data, algorithmic censorship, and legal shortcuts. The conditioning worked. The infrastructure stayed. And unless we name it, it will be used again.
This was never about health. It was about hierarchy — who gets to rule, who gets to speak, and who must obey. And unless we expose that truth now, the next crisis will come not as a surprise, but as a sequel.
This wasn’t just a health campaign — it was a psychological operation. People weren’t merely locked down physically. They were locked into fear, shame, guilt, and confusion. The messaging wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate — designed to override logic, disable consent, and manufacture obedience.
This wasn’t public health. It was public conditioning. A real pandemic of fear — not infection. And it worked, not because the virus was strong, but because the mind was under attack.
From the airport floor to the government’s top office — I watched how one announcement from the World Health Organization flipped nations into lockdown. There was no mass death. No local crisis. But the word "pandemic" was all it took. And New Zealand obeyed — without evidence, without law, without question.
Jacinda Ardern declared herself the "single source of truth" — invoking emergency powers to impose lockdowns, mandates, and border closures, while using public funds and the Public Interest Journalism Fund to secure media compliance and amplify her political brand. Rights were suspended. Dissent was punished. Kenya, too, was hijacked by the same global script: harsh restrictions, economic collapse, and executive overreach — all justified under the guise of public health. But Tanzania didn’t submit. It didn’t follow foreign scripts, global agendas, or political pressure. Under President John Magufuli, it stayed the course — lawful, sovereign, and calm. No lockdowns. No coercion. No emergency powers. And no mass illness. Life continued — not recklessly, but responsibly. In fact, Tanzania became a refuge for those fleeing panic, mandates, and media-fuelled fear. It wasn’t Tanzania that broke from the norm — it was much of the world that broke from reality, abandoning rights, reason, and humanity in the process.
What does that say about our democracies — when the so-called “most trusted” governments mirrored the most corrupt, while the "conspiracy" country stayed lawful and calm?
This exposé has revealed a global reconfiguration of power — not for health, but for control. COVID-19 became the pretext, but the true agenda was far wider:
At the core of it all: a transfer of power from the people to global interests. Elected leaders became messengers. The script was foreign. The damage was local. And the next trigger — whether climate, cyber, or crisis — is already being prepared.
The virus didn’t shut the world down. A handful of unelected globalists and their obedient governments did — through one policy and one lie. And unless we expose it now, they’ll do it again — with climate, cyber, or whatever serves their next move.
The next chapter is already being written. But so is ours.