We can’t fall asleep… is it because the night’s still young and we’re not? Or is it that there’s too much noise inside our heads, our thoughts rumbling, jumbling, tumbling around and keeping us widely awake? We used to sleep like babies but these past few weeks, all we’ve got left in common with them is the level of our collective IQs… we wish we could count sheep, but we can’t even do that since we’re vegetarian.

All that we thought and all that we believed in and all that we fought so hard to think and believe in seems to be falling apart like Chinua’s things… where is Chinua when we need him? Who will explain the world to us now? Who? Who?

Rebecca de Chandio said her yoga teacher Anjum Gramsci said this is the time of monsters… but what does he know, we said to her… no, no, she replied, he knows these things because, from the backside, he is a yogi and all yogis can predict the past… okay, we said, but that does not bring us any comfort… what if these monsters are hiding under our beds and their ghoulish snoring is what is keeping us awake?

As we toss and turn, we think of how well we knew him… he was one of us, a hero to all, regardless of colour…whether we were white, black, brown or orange, he was just like us… he was our man in the mirror… this is so unprecedented… we never imagined he would do this… after all, wasn’t he the one who hated war? Wasn’t he our anti-war candidate?

And he was so anti-establishment, so anti-establishment kay bus… he was the real revolutionary… a big, rockstar of a revolutionary committed to bringing a big rockstar of a Cliftonian revolution… he was going to bring the system down… bring it down from within… and he was so anti-status quo, so anti-status quo kay bus…. he was going to change the status quo without changing the status quo… he was the one who was going to drain our swamps and swamp our drains… he was the one who was going to make Cliftonia great again, make it naya… turn it into a shining Cliftonia!

The true believers of the Republic lie awake at night, tossing, turning and wondering what exactly their rockstar revolutionary is doing to the world — and to their bedtime

He didn’t have to jump into the fray and do this, you know? He didn’t… he had everything: fame, fortune, womens, bank accounts of cash, so many blonde celebrity friends, charity foundations, a bulging network of extremely wealthy, differently-fragranced associates… so much experience in the spousal category… ufff, what what did he not have?

And so much that he gave up for the sake of us, the undeserving ones… he could have just enjoyed life but he sacrificed it all to serve Cliftonia and all who dwellded within her… people just like us… people who are tossers… and turners… and sufferers of insomnia… people who can’t sleep now because they can’t stop thinking about what he has done and what he is doing and are worried about what he will do next and how embarrassed we are… and should be for considering him a messiah who had come to save us from the deviancy of evil marching womens and confusing trans peoples and prideful LGBTQ types and blaspheming minorities, all of whose names (surprisingly!) did not appear in the X-files.

Even though they were the ones who were trying to destroy the divinely-ordained order of the universe, which places entitled, self-righteous, patriarchal men at the head of every system ever invented by entitled, self-righteous, patriarchal men, all of whose names (surprisingly!) did appear in the X-files.

We think we cannot sleep because despite all that he has said and done and continues to say and do, we still believe deep within our bowels that he has got nothing to do with what he is doing to the world… we are certain that it must be the people around him who are confusing him and feeding him lies and forcing him to follow their agenda, despite the fact that all the people around him are the people he has selected to be part of his team, because no one is a better spotter of talent than he is… he is the best selector of teams, always has been, always will be.

As the share prices of our bloated egos tumble and the collective delusions of our grandeur begin to crumble, we crusty, sleep-deprived Cliftonians lie awake in our beds, wondering where our carroty warmongering saviour is taking our beloved planet and our even beloveder Cliftonia… we, who are so precariously poised upon this world that we’ve built with all of our entitlements and unaccountability entrenched deep within, ponder his next steps and pray that they lead to anxiety-free nights full of the slumber we’ve been deprived of for weeks…

Wherefore art thou, our elusive zzzzzzzz?

Farid Alvie was born. He currently lives. He’s on Instagram @faridalvie

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 19th, 2026