Power borrowed will always look oversized

Sometimes, you stand on the harbor wall and watch the big speeches on someone’s phone. The words are grand—sovereignty, solidarity, major policy changes. They echo across the water, but down here, the pavement is still cracked. The ferries are still late. You wonder if the shoes they wear are really theirs, or just borrowed for the occasion, too big and awkward on their feet. We are told about accountability, about faster services, about foreign exchange reforms. But the deputy ministers list isn’t updated. The roads aren’t built. When was the last time? I genuinely can’t remember. It’s like a guessing game—what are they afraid to say? And you just noticed that? There is a bigger problem here. Our best footballers work in RDC, a stain on our pride, not a badge of it. Our boys, talented and strong, leaving because here, dreams don’t pay the bills. We boycott a water brand because it’s tied to someone who authorizes weapons on civilians. We argue about who is strong enough to confront distant evils. But in our own streets, the real confrontation is with the slow creep of disappointment. A fact-finding mission on how to press buttons—is that what governance has become? Meanwhile, the volleyball team gets a ceremony, a speech, a wish for success. It’s nice, but it doesn’t fill the gap between what’s promised and what’s lived. Maybe sovereignty isn’t measured by a nation’s size. Maybe it’s measured by whether the people who lead it walk in shoes that fit. Right now, it feels like they’re stumbling. And we’re all watching, waiting for them to find their footing, or for someone—anyone—to build a road we can actually walk on.