This revelation occurred to me as I held my newly born son in my arms for the first time on Monday.
I closed my eyes and made a serious attempt at convincing myself that I was merely a victim of the serotonins wreaking havoc with the synaptic connections between my neurons, giving me the illusion of an intervention of a higher being in this miracle that is birth. Or whatever the latest, in-vogue explanation for why the human race has always believed in God in the thousands (or is it millions?) of years we’ve been on this wasteland called Earth.
My feeble attempt at rationalising what I witnessed on Monday failed miserably on its face.
Serotonins, 1; mere mortal, 0.
This being my third son, I was prepared. I wasn’t going to embarrass the entire proud AmaQadi clan from which I am spawned. Or so I thought. I wept unashamedly. There is no hope for me.
I remain sincerely yours,
An irrational believer in God.
A prince with dignity and determination
Prince Ngarambe’s goals are to become Rwanda’s first transgender model and to uplift the country’s youth
The EFF’s principles are unshakeable
Unlike the ANC, the core values of the freedom fighters do not change with each leader it elects
