By Rafael Sale Mirole
But time, as it often does, brought shadows. The father, once generous and open, grew guarded and fearful. His own progeny, the very essence of his ideals, found themselves at odds with his iron grip. One son, a bright and ambitious man named Venâncio Mondlane, believed in the purity of their founding principles. He sought to lead with the same fervor and honesty that once defined their cause.
Venâncio, with a heart full of resolve, announced his desire to run for the highest position within their house. He was met not with open arms but with a barred door. The father, now an aging lion clinging to his throne, denied his son the right to challenge him. Surrounding himself with loyalists who echoed his fears, he declared that the convention, the sacred gathering of voices and choices, was not a place for Venâncio.
This prodigal father, who once heralded democracy, now seemed to fear it within his own walls. What had changed? Why did the father, who preached the gospel of democracy to the nation, now tremble at its application within his own home?
The son, standing in the cold night of rejection, could only wonder aloud. “Why do you fear what you have taught us to cherish?” he asked. “Why do you deny me the chance to serve, the chance to lead with the same love for democracy that you once instilled in me?”
The father’s silence was a heavy burden, a contradiction that echoed through the halls of their once united house. The loyalists, those who stood by the father, whispered of stability, of continuity, yet their words rang hollow against the walls that had once resounded with calls for change and freedom.
The nation watched and waited, questioning the integrity of a father who denied his own teachings. The betrayal was not just to Venâncio but to every heart that had once beat in unison with the ideals of democracy. The father’s actions cast a long shadow over the future, leaving his children to grapple with a legacy tainted by fear and control.
In this tale of the prodigal father, the questions linger like an unsatisfied hunger: Why are they so afraid of democracy, the very thing they preach? Why does the father, who claimed to be its champion, now hide from its light? The answers, perhaps, lie buried in the heart of a father who forgot that true power lies not in control but in the courage to let go and trust in the principles that once defined him.
