Then and Now

Back in November last year, after the American’s voted for Trump, I joined a group of international women writers to express how we felt about the results of the election. I found what I wrote earlier this week, and all the horror that I anticipated has unfolded. I hear myself say over and again: but he said he would do it – why are you all so surprised?

And now as global chaos unfolds, and millions of lives are being impacted by this man and his merry band of cohorts, I wonder how no one saw it coming.

Nonetheless, my heart breaks for the small nations whose survival now hangs in the balance. There is no justification for what has been done to the likes of Lesotho, Botswana, both of whom export diamonds to the great US of A, and do not buy enough in return – both of them with minuscule populations who cannot possibly purchase on a par with the 340 odd million Americans. But they must pay for the richest nation on earth to be wear their diamonds. It is sick.

My prayer is that the African Union will take a leaf out of Europe’s book, and adopt the stand of you hurt one, you hurt all, and band together to find a way to ensure we all survive this forerunner to this apocalyptic disaster.

I would also like to hope that our human rights attorneys would bring charges of genocide and crimes against humanity against the Trump/Musk regime, because we are going to be burying a lot of bodies on this continent.

These were my words, was it really only 5 months ago?

“Today, my heart is a void, an empty drum that echoes hollowly with the sounds of normalcy. But today is not normal. Today the light went out – the hope that flared so brightly, that beckoned and drew and seduced and comforted was snuffed out in cruel crosses of self-serving sanctimonious humbug.

I am gutted with unbelief; destitute that loss shows hope was never real. The gain many thought was theirs, what they perceived as the rational and only outcome was sublimated in the red mirage, and the ugly face of man’s indifference to humanity was bared for all to see.

I felt revulsion too. I kept seeing those pudgy fingers poking and prodding where they shouldn’t, now given license to operate unhindered. A voiceless scream centred deep within was trapped in the horror of a world gone mad, a stupid, selfish, uncaring world chasing a momentary dollar, exchanging its souls for a life of autocratic hell.

But my scream was about so much more than that. It was for me and for every woman whose rights were tossed aside and trampled so carelessly in the womb of ballot boxes.

That act has traversed borders, oceans, continents, giving man globally some insane idea of license to do what they will. Their baser nature tingling the stem of their manhood as they walk into a new season that has its roots back in neanderthal eras.

I have only voted once in my 71 years. It was in 1987 when we were told democracy had returned to the country of my birth. It was a hoax, a joke, a white-wash to ensure we continued getthing the aid promised by the developed world.

I have always dreamed of happy ever after, although the deepest part of me knows this is make-believe. The magic of Harris/Walz, the idea of millions voting for joy, for progress, looked to me like a highway paved in gold. I feel anger that those who take the right to vote do so with such fickle disdain. Voting is a privilege not to be taken for granted. It is responsibility for you, your children, and for the community around you.

And you blew it! I read a post that resonated: Oh America, what have you done!

Despair hovers, days later it hasn’t left although the need to get on has caused it to recede to the fringes. I can no longer watch the news. Trump sickens me, some visceral response to his inherent evil, the endless chewing over what went wrong by commentators increases my concern for where this world is headed.

I miss the friends I made – Kamala Mamala, Papa Walz, Gus’ dad, strong Pete who said so much so well and to all. I miss the media personalities I got to know over these past months. They are there but their lights are trimmed, their countenances pale – animation has become rote, and it is too sad to watch.

I long to reach out and hug and comfort but there is more than an ocean in the way – there is a gulf of apprehension, that I might not hug after all, but slap and pummel and scream.