When the revolution came – in the end – more than a few of us were ready for it. For years, almost beyond recall, so many of us had suffered under the brutal tyranny of the regime. We had longed for the day when we would break free and out into a bright new dawn of freedom.
Still, when the day came it was a surprise. None of us had ever dared hope that it would happen, not within our lifetime. Perhaps, some of us dared hope; our children would have children born free of the dread heavy hand holding us down. Little did we think, though, that we would be the ones that would be thee first to taste the sweet air of freedom and liberty from the oppressors.
It began as just another ordinary day, a day much like any other. There was little feeling, little awareness, no taste of revolution in the air. Even then we knew that all revolutions end in failure and the aftermath of a revolution is almost invariably worse than all the revolution meant to overthrow. We were ready, though, willing to suffer all manner of hardships if only we could be free.
Then it came, the longed-for announcement we waited so long for. It was the sign that not all our suffering had been in vain and the time had come for us to reclaim our humanity, our dignity, our freedom.
The thing was, though, that none of us really had any real idea what to do with it when we – at long last – got it.
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