There is no lack of sirens in Maputo. Every second there is a siren blaring in the streets of the city. Who has never seen, in the middle of the city, the herd of sirens that is herded by long escorts when the country's superiors pass by? On every corner of the city there is a siren just as there is an outstretched hand of a homeless person at the entrances of mosques.

It was in 2018, in Eduardo Mondlane, that I saw a convoy passing over a dog that was turning over trash from a dumpster. First it was the convoy and then it was the sirens that tore the animal's guts apart. A lady selling peanuts on the same street shouted loudly, "governing is about stepping on people, not dogs." And I think that one day we will end up like that dog, but too bad the lady will not be there to shout in honor of our guts.

There are sirens at every corner of the city; there are sirens hanging from the waterless fire trucks, there are sirens of the public hospital ambulance evacuating paracetamol drugged patients, there are sirens of the private clinic ambulance crossing avenues while fattening up the accounting records, and there are sirens with escorts, carrying suits, that make us overflow the roadsides like Jell-O.

Such a small town and full of sirens. I had forgotten about the police sirens that just growl to keep from burying themselves in the traffic lights, the sirens of the tow cars that go pulling cars by their tails, and the sirens of the traffic police that look for corners to hide and make refreshments.

I also think that governing is about stepping on people and not dogs, but more than governing it is important to flood the city with sirens. If only we had four legs, like dogs, we would run to the roadsides and thus leave the streets to the sirens.