I had been holding on to a clear image of what it would look like if our people finally woke up to truth and justice.
I watched through my phone as crowds filled the streets outside the courthouse where a high-profile corruption case is being decided—a case that could collapse giants, shatter long-held illusions, and finally break the cycle of silence that has kept the country chained for decades. The trial wasn’t open to cameras, but the weight of that moment pressed heavily on everyone.
People carried banners and chanted; activism had been alive for years, even when many dismissed it as trouble rather than a desperate call for change. But this time, their voices felt louder, fueled with anticipation and hard-earned courage. The crowd of activists’ faces are full of both hope and hatred. Hope for change and hatred from years of being deceived.
On social media, messages and stories spread like wildfire from those who refused to be silenced. People demanded good governance and real accountability while pushing back against so-called ‘leaders’ who had long ignored their calls. Even officials who were once cloaked in darkness were already being exposed to a harsh spotlight. Schools began teaching more than just facts—they urged critical thinking and questioning. Journalists reported without the fear that once shadowed them; they exposed truths that were buried deep in silence.
The people stirred with a restless energy, as if they were finally waking up to what true justice and fairness truly meant. They were beginning to change the country, with new leaders stepping forward—no longer followed blindly, but held firmly accountable for their actions.
The old ways were breaking down, and a new hope was rising from the effort of many voices demanding real change.
But then, in the background of the photos and videos that I had just seen, and even from where I witnessed these moments, I noticed something strange: a lamp flickering awkwardly.
Everything looked hopeful, but the lamp looked weird. Its light was uneven; the shadows didn’t quite fit the hopeful scene.
And it hit me—the real justice and truth we longed for were still out of reach. Activism burned bright, but the support, the true change, the honest governance—they hadn’t fully arrived yet.
Suddenly, I realized… what I was witnessing wasn’t the full awakening yet. It was only a glimpse of the fight still ahead.
