The ceremony comes off as a huge mismash of hopes and dreams. A pulsating sea of men, women, children and trans-gendered wobbles and waves and the sun crowns their angel-heads with sweat and they look up at the political altar, praying for bread and health. Children with big blackberry eyes look up at the fantastic visage of the president, and with the bravado of someone who knows no embarrassment they ask “Daddy, is he like a king?”. The parents just nod and smile, knowing that power-dynamics are too complex to be digested into child-lingo.