Death of a country

There I was, waiting in the freezing cold for a bus that seemed to have dropped from the face of the earth. At that moment, between quiet desperation and outrageous fits of discontent, I realized something: Belgium is very much dead.

The final stanza of he poem 'The Hollow Men' by T.S. Eliot reads:

This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the world ends.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

And it struck me that the same could be said about our - once - fair country. It seems to me that everything within the borders of this nation is slowly, but surely dying. We are a country without a government, and we have been so for over 200 days (and counting), our monetary deficits keep swirling downwards (although in all fairness, it is a global recession), there is a serious kink in our educational system, a public transportation system that lies completely in shambles and the list goes on and on.

Everywhere - or at least in my immediate surroundings - streets are being broken up and left in that state for months at a time. Maybe a sad reflection of our broken spirit? We keep building houses and office buildings even though there is no way that the people who actually need a roof over their head, can afford to stay there. We suffer through endless delays and uncountable senseless acts of crime. We seem to be doing everything to maintain the illusion that we are still a thriving and well-managed country, when in fact, we only have to tune in for the seven 'o' clock news to realize this country is going to hell and we're gaining more and more momentum every day.

I've always known my future must lie somewhere else than in this godforsaken place and for the better part of my life, this country has done nothing to prove me wrong, how could it, really? What have we got going for us? Is our obligatory vote that praiseworthy? Are our pittoresque cities so alluring? Do we run that tight a ship? Sadly, the answer is 'None of the above'. The more I continue to be tortured by buses with a constant tardiness, dreary weather, boring cityscapes and desperate prospects, I become increasingly convinced that I should very much like to leave this place behind and never look back. Just run away and make my fortune somewhere else.

As you might've guessed, I'm anything but a patriot. I guess it has never been in my nature to be a true Belgian. And perhaps it never will. I want to say that this bothers me, but it doesn't. It really doesn't. Why would I want to be a part of a country that is flatlining? Maybe other people can't hear it, but I can't stop listening to the monotonous, irritating sound of a country that is beginning to whither and die (if you'll excuse me the Resident Evil - Extinction-borrowed quote).