The Return of the King
Yesterday King Abdulla returned from a six month medical leave somewhere in the bowels of Mordor. In what has to have been the best coverage of a motorcade entrance ever, His Highness was treated to quite the elaborate show of jubilant nationalism. Young hobbits in boy-scout-style regalia, orcs rowed up in their baldricks dancing Ardha and elven girls in berga’a lining the roads with posters like HH was a Beatle. All this blossoming was cultivated (and concentrated) along the roads running all the way from the airport to his palace. A route I know from studying the map in the front of the book.
And most of the way, his bodyguards ran, flapping their flippers and hop-skipping along the concrete like nervous dwarves.
Does this green-fingering mean anything in the current compost-climate (i.e. let the political rot burn off into some fine fertile soil) of the region?
I hope (think) not. What lies ahead off the roads uncovered by the cameras?
When something (change) does happen (may it be peaceful), I hope this guy will be there to celebrate: