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Re-Direct the River

Decent Essays

The huge stands crammed with seething humanity seemed to be leaning over, dwarfing the stage in the centre of the rugby field. Whistles and clapping and stomping and happy noise raged on and on as the entire stadium, alive with this gawking, squawking, moving mass of people welcomed CC.
Coming free of her hug with Dorothy with a brief smile of appreciation and the deafening noise reverberating all around her, CC turns towards the mike, waiting for the applause to die down. It does not. Instead it rages on and on. The look on her face is a mixture of appreciation and modesty. Standing there with an almost childlike innocence, a nervous smile twitches the ends of her mouth. Completely unprepared for a welcome such as this, she blushes, not knowing quite how to deal with the awkwardness she feels or where to look, so she looks into the camera in front of her, large, soft grey eyes pools of gratitude.
Eventually the applause does die down and with a slight bow she smiles her thanks. It rings through her mind, ‘It’s here… at last… so help me God.”
Taking a deep breath it feels all wrong as she says quietly into the mike, “Phweeuw! Is it O.K. for a simple government minister to feel like a pop star?”
They scream, “CCeeeeeeeeeee!”
Her awkward little-girl giggle does little to hide her tenseness. Then she pushes on; there is a schedule to be adhered to. “You are very kind. Thank you. Madam MC, Honourable ministers, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, all those outside the

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