Writeia

The whereabouts of our previous prime minister are still unknown. He, they say, has gone into hiding. His followers are scattered, and those who remain close to him still tout his greatness. The decades it took for this generation to rise up have been informative as to why the revolution happened—and why, within forty-eight hours, a standing democracy was thrown into crisis and restored just as quickly. The damage is done, the blow is dealt, and the result came as swiftly as this generation expected. By the standards of years that other nations go through to topple a government, ours was minute-made—sort of like the short videos we get on our mobile phones. Those videos and their instant dopamine hit can be metaphorized here by the quickness with which an entire government was toppled. This is a story, mind you. I, too, know some parts of my nation’s history. I, too, after all, was born here. What covered my childhood—or rather, the most traumatic parts of it—were bloodsheds all around...