Prostitution begins when the woman feels too beautiful to work and too proud to suffer.
Corruption begins when intellectual elites feel too smart, too important to be honest and to cultivate values.
Some signs tell the story of a country in silence, in the tired murmur, in the sluggish breath of unseen men and women, buried under the weight of unfulfilled promises of daily life. The question was clear. Everyone understood it. Everyone had promised to respond within the allotted time. The beep of the national chronometer rang: copies must now be submitted for correction.
The rules had been defined in advance, read aloud. Then why the agitation? Why do you have to start with this, this sudden flouting, this panic over the deadline?
This country seeks to find its landmarks, its identity, its origins. Let the tricks stop. Let the delusional merchants at last learn to respect their word. The crisis is no longer deaf: it is now stressful, noisy, invasive. Poverty is no longer hidden; She imposes herself, walks face to face uncovered in our streets, our paths, our wreaths, in the midst of a carnival of shame, without disguises or masks.
As a mirror stretched to an entire nation, fatigue is read on our bodies. It expresses itself in a spirit of legitimate anger, nourished by deprivation, injustice and silence for too long.
Because the awakening, faced with the wrong answers, is sometimes brutal.
Raphael Theoma Daniel
