The Vote
One day I went for a long walk with my mother. I was probably 5 or 6 years of age at the time. On the way, my mum explained that she was going to vote. I’m sure she went into some detail, but the only thing I remember was, she didn’t like somebody and this was a way to get rid of them.
Eventually, we arrived at a school – it wasn’t my school. There were lots of people coming and going. My mum told me that one day I would go to this school, but on that day it was being used as a polling station. I didn’t know what that meant or what was wrong with my old school.
At the entrance to the building, there was a smiley faced man who had a brightly coloured paper thing pinned to his jacked and he was greeting everyone with a handshake. I thought it odd that he seemed to know so many people. He looked very happy – too happy for my liking.
My mum just walked right past him dragging me along. I don’t recall what happened next but I was happy when we left and headed home. I do remember asking my mum if the man at the door was the one she didn’t like and she said no – that was another man.
Even at that early age, none of what my mum had told me or what I witnessed, made any sense.
It still doesn’t.
Democracy Part 2 – The Trilemma
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