A stray thought plants itself within my mind. It takes root and eats at me, nagging until I can’t seem to shake it; like a tap, constantly dripping.
The other day the news reported that the MP’s are going abroad to buy chairs. They quoted a number in the millions as the cost of the trip and the chairs.
I don’t doubt the validity of the story.
However, I am beginning to be skeptical about the stories we are being told. More importantly, I am beginning to worry about the stories we are being not told. The narratives we are being fed are not just of corrupt politicians; they are narratives of petty politicians. Like school children fighting for a treat our politicians grapple with the non-issues to their dying breath.
This is the story that I am afraid is invalid.
A stray thought begins to influence all other thoughts. Everything seems different. Like the hole in the dyke, it must be stopped.
I fear for what I see. I fear that the smiling faces and warm handshakes hide a darkness that I cannot yet, and may never, be able to comprehend. These scandals are being revealed too easily. The powers are too unperturbed by the trouble created by the scandals – as if they are above them, as if they have bigger fish to fry.
A stray thought; no longer stray. Now the predominant thought in my mind. The flood of fear overcomes me, what can I do?
I fear for what we know. We know people died during the 2007/2008 violence. We know that witnesses are still being intimidated and killed. We know that our politicians are greedy. We know that money is being stolen. We know that money is being lost. We know that the IEBC’s credible status is now being questioned. We also know that there is a lot that we do not know.
What can I do, but sit, write and be scared?