No target, no control

I was scrolling through my phone this morning, the sea breeze coming through the window, and I couldn't help but laugh at that comment about the shoe flying off. It's funny because it's true. We've all seen that moment in a football game where someone tries too hard and ends up losing everything - the ball, their balance, even their shoe. And we're living that reality now, watching from the sidelines as our country veers off course. They appointed media commissioners without elections yesterday. Just like that. No asking, no voting, no nothing. It happens so quietly you might miss it between the price of rice going up and wondering if the ferry will come on time. We notice though. We always notice when decisions are made without us, when the people who are supposed to represent us forget who they're working for. That honeysuckle comment stuck with me too - getting the small things wrong matters. If they can't get the name of a flower right, how can we trust them with our islands, our livelihoods, our children's future? It's all connected, these small failures and big ones. The shoe flying off is just the visible part of losing control. We laugh about it because what else can we do? The alternative is to get angry, and anger burns too hot in this island heat. So we make jokes, share memes, find the humor in the mess. But underneath the laughter, there's this quiet worry that's becoming permanent, like the salt stains on our clothes after a day by the sea. Maybe that's our real strength - seeing clearly what's happening even when they pretend everything's fine. We're not fooled by fancy speeches or empty promises. We see the missed targets, the flying shoes, the appointments made in back rooms. And we remember. We always remember.