We have grotesquely transformed the vibrant, chaotic innocence of childhood into a perpetual, agonizing autopsy table, and the debt of this spilled blood cannot be settled through fleeting expressions of sorrow on social media platforms.
I am profoundly thankful that Senehma exists. And I am profoundly terrified that she does. Because the world we have built demands that we learn to doubt miracles, just so we can survive the unrelenting noise of the horrors.
Too many young people complete the school years without the skills they need, families are financially squeezed, and the system still treats education more like fee collection than nation-building.
