Samarth Dalal is an apprentice at Debunk.
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June 25th’s Petrol

Civil Disobedience is a seminal text. That, I hope, is self-evident. Whoever you might call a revolutionary since 1884 has been forced to read it. Some have fallen in love with it for its civility and mantras of peace. Others will forever hold a grudge against Thoreau for his dogged commitment to peace. Either way, Thoreau’s solution was born of an inability to enact direct change in the pieces of paper that ruled the world he inhabited. The poll tax was there long before Thoreau saw his disagreements with slavery or the American-Mexican war. His disobedience was an act born of politics rather than the chilling cold of starvation. There was no need to light a fire to stay alive. As such, even the most fearsome revolutionary can forgive him for his reluctance. The fire needs petrol. It needs a hunger, an anger.

Forgetting June 25th

Nairobi is a layer-cake of a city. Embassies, NGOs and the UN all congregate in these hills. These hills host State House, Parliament, McMillian Memorial Library, businesses small and large. These hills host Kibera and Deep Sea. Stratification, it seems, is inevitable. Tight knit circles form around markers of class such as expensive schools or golf courses. These circles will have their members shift, as families move from post to post. The circle itself is immortal. It is bloody, bold and resolute. It laughs to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall ever harm it.