“Learn from my mistakes!”
How many times I was told that as a child! How many times I ignored it and still do.
Force-feeding the wisdom of the ages to toddlers just makes them resentful.
It’s like this sculpture I saw yesterday at the Nyakuron Cultural Center in Juba: help is offense; passion is power; love is trial.
It’s easy for me to be frustrated by South Sudan. Angered even. Then I remember: the folly of youth is youth.
Ah, the endless possibilities! The world is for your taking, but it’s just out of your reach. It’s all exciting and new.
There’s so much you can learn …
… but you won’t.
There’s so much you can take …
… but you don’t.
There’s so much you can do …
… but …
Their mistakes are your mistakes and yours for your children’s children to inherit. Even when you have the upper hand. Even when you are growing backwards.
So the politics are as dry as the taps. The streets are filled with garbage. The city is an unplanned mess. The politics is as dry as the taps. The disillusionment of a nation so new is palpable.
Maybe there’s hope.
If only South Sudan can stop making our mistakes.
Backwards.
