Once upon a time, elections meant something. People queued under the hot sun, fingers stained with ink, hearts full of hope. These days? Who needs votes when you have vibes, vanity, and very loyal soldiers?
Presidents now treat constitutions like rough drafts scribble out term limits here, add a lifetime presidency there. Opposition parties? They’re either in jail, in exile, or in hiding (depending on the week) and internet blackouts? The modern “off” switch for dissent.
The international community watches closely… then gently whispers their “deep concern” before heading to lunch. Bold move.
Yet, despite the political gymnastics and democratic disappearing acts, Africans remain stubbornly hopeful. Protesting. Organizing. Dreaming. Because while the leadership plays musical chairs with power, the people know the music has to change.
Democracy isn’t dead. It’s just being held hostage probably somewhere without Wi-Fi.
