Commander Samora, Your Generals Are Selling the Country

Luís Júnior"

Commander, I don't know if you still believe, where you are, that this is still Mozambique—the one we swore we'd die for if need be. But I'll be honest with you, because no one around here is anymore: your generals are selling out the country, turning it into a vanity fair of shady deals. Remember that speech in Beira, when you shouted that in three years you'd see comrades building 15-story buildings? You weren't wrong. They arrived, and with them came armored cars, beachfront properties, trips to Dubai, and million-dollar accounts in the name of nephews. All at the expense of a people who barely have a place to sleep. They call themselves "Your Excellencies," Commander. And they use your name to name avenues, statues, and foundations—while children sleep hungry, while nurses wash rags with blue soap in a hospital without water, while teachers wait three months for a meager salary that doesn't even cover transportation. These are the generals of the new era: They don't defend the people—they murder them with bureaucracy and negligence. The people, Commander... they no longer believe in revolution. Because the revolution they promised us has been transformed into a business. They privatized everything: water, electricity, the air we breathe, even our dreams. And most seriously? They privatized the homeland. The flag now covers shady deals and hides hastily signed contracts with multinationals that plunder our resources in exchange for commissions for a handful of parasites. Mozambique has become a family business. And we, the people, are the administrative puppets. Do you remember the people? The ones you shouted for, "The fight continues!"? Yes, it does... but now it's a fight to buy bread, to avoid being kidnapped on the street corner, to avoid dying outside the hospital because there's no serum. Meanwhile, your generals build walls, carry bodyguards, and live in neighborhoods where not even the sound of hunger penetrates. They say they remain faithful to your legacy. But your legacy, Commander, wasn't this. It wasn't a homeland where youth are criminalized for being poor. Where talent is disposable unless it's red-carded. Where a citizen with ideas is immediately treated as an enemy. Your legacy was about dignity. Today, dignity is a forbidden word—it offends those in power. The saddest thing, Commander, is that no one is outraged anymore. The people have become survivors. They get up early to catch a ride, arrive late without hope. They no longer protest, they no longer demand, they no longer even believe. Because they've seen that those who speak loudly disappear. Because they've learned that justice here is blind—but only when it's protecting those at the top. Perhaps you're tired of hearing these complaints. But back in your day, there was still shame. Now, it's just a disguise, just a facade. Peace has become a business. Democracy, a showcase for foreigners to see. The country, a closed-door auction—and only those with dollars and a red flag in their pockets are allowed in. So, if you can, Commander... shout again. Because there are many people down here who still believe, but are surrounded by scoundrels in suits who use your image to hide their crimes. They say they are your heirs. But if you are truly the father of this country, the time has come to disinherit them..

2025/12/3