What is there to be celebrated?
As she gears towards the celebration of her 172 birthday, I mutter, confused to confide in her curse of ceaseless disasters. What is she truly celebrating? Her long but fruitless existence leading her children to beg and bootlick as they crumble at the mercy of exploiters. She stumbled, startled at the impediment placed upon her by so-called colonialism. A complete dissolution to her sovereignty. She claimed to be independent when truly dependency is at the avenue of her already weakened appearance-leading her children skedaddling in search for solace. And I wonder, what is there to be...