By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Mr. President, to show you just how much I understand the state of our nation, I am bringing to your attention the planned strike by doctors and the brewing discontent across the nation. These aren’t isolated issues, Mr. President, but the echoes of a nation suffering. While doctors consider striking over conditions of service and fuel provisions, teachers cry for increased salaries and pin codes, and students at EBK University protest the sudden removal of continuous assessment. Meanwhile, our education system is further crippled by delays in BECE and WASSCE results. Instead of working directly with these struggling teachers, doctors, students, and all the others who form the backbone of our nation, you continue to attend conferences and lectures, painting an unrealistic picture of Sierra Leone’s situation. I am left wondering, Mr. President, how can you stand at these podiums, spinning tales of progress when our people languish at home, struggling daily under the weight of a neglected system?
Mr. President, you are on a stage speaking to a world eager to hear success stories, hoping for a different image of Africa than the one they’re used to. And there you are, embellishing Sierra Leone’s progress while our healthcare system collapses, our teachers suffer in silence, and our children face an uncertain academic future. How do you feel, Mr. President, when nations like Singapore, who gained independence around the same time as Sierra Leone, stand tall, showing true progress? When Singapore’s Prime Minister speaks, they talk about the strides they’ve made in infrastructure, healthcare, and education. Today, Singapore’s Changi International Airport is passport-free, relying on advanced technology to identify travelers. And where do we stand, Mr. President?
When you speak of Sierra Leone on the global stage, do you acknowledge the realities we face? Do you speak about the plight of our doctors and teachers? The lack of essential services? The tragic condition of our schools and hospitals? Or is your speech merely a glossed-over version of our struggles, one that suits your image but does not represent the truth?
The doctors who are on the verge of striking are not merely demanding perks. Their needs are fundamental: fuel for their vehicles, proper equipment, and better working conditions. We rely on them to save lives, and they do so against overwhelming odds. Yet here we are, Mr. President, waiting on the edge of a medical crisis as negotiations drag on. For years, these frontline heroes have had to shoulder an immense burden without the support they deserve. If our healthcare providers can’t even get the basic support to carry out their duties, what does this say about the priorities of your government?
While fuel and living costs rise, so do the stress levels of our doctors, who continue to work in some of the most challenging conditions. Mr. President, these medical professionals aren’t asking for luxury; they’re asking for the bare minimum necessary to serve the people of Sierra Leone. Ignoring their cries puts lives at risk. Is this not more urgent than an international conference?
Likewise, our teachers are the architects of the nation’s future. Every single day, they educate, shape, and influence the minds that will one day lead Sierra Leone. Yet they are rewarded with meager wages, delayed promotions, and unfulfilled promises. When they ask for better salaries and pin codes, they’re asking for the dignity to live a decent life in the service of our nation’s children.
The situation at Ernest Bai Koroma University in Makeni has reached a boiling point, with students protesting against the removal of continuous assessment, a move that feels sudden and ill-considered. Continuous assessment is not merely a grading method; it provides a comprehensive view of a student’s progress, allowing for a better-rounded education. Students and parents alike are frustrated and confused by this abrupt policy change, which reflects the larger issues within our education system.
And then we have the matter of BECE and WASSCE results, which are delayed year after year. These delays not only reflect poorly on our education system but also disrupt the lives and futures of thousands of young Sierra Leoneans. What kind of message does this send to our youth? That their education and future are secondary to bureaucratic delays? Or that their dreams can be postponed indefinitely without consequence?
Mr. President, it’s one thing to represent Sierra Leone on the global stage, but it’s another to do so while neglecting your duties at home. You travel widely, yet each trip seems more about bolstering your personal image than addressing the real issues we face. How do you speak of our nation as a beacon of progress when doctors are preparing to strike, teachers are pleading for fair wages, and students are marching for basic educational rights?
While you attend these conferences and pose for photos, Sierra Leoneans are watching, seeing the disconnect between your words and their lived realities. How can you look at yourself in the mirror, Mr. President, when you know that you are asking these same people to believe in the illusion you’re weaving for the international community?
And let’s address the uncomfortable truth: your image is tarnished, Mr. President. It’s not something that can be cleaned up by international appearances or goodwill speeches. Your neglect of the people’s needs has left a bitter taste in their mouths, and your reputation, once held in hope, has now sunk into the gutter.
Yes, Mr. President, this is how it feels to many of us to see you and your family jet-setting around the world, using resources that could uplift our crumbling infrastructure, while so many at home suffer. The phrase “Yu Drai Yai O” has become a common sentiment among Sierra Leoneans, who feel abandoned by their leaders. This isn’t leadership; it’s a betrayal.
People Kin say, “Dis Na Witch,” and I can’t argue with them. The level of disregard for the citizens of Sierra Leone, those who placed their trust in you to lead them toward a better future, is shocking. When the very people you promised to serve feel deceived and ignored, something has gone terribly wrong.
Mr. President, it’s time to come home not just physically but emotionally, mentally, and morally. It’s time to engage with the doctors, teachers, students, and all the people who make Sierra Leone what it is. Apologize to us, the people, and make a vow to put your efforts into solving these domestic issues before your term ends. We need to see tangible changes, not empty promises.
Imagine what it would mean for the country if, instead of standing on a foreign podium, you stood here, in Freetown, Makeni, Bo, or Kenema, and spoke directly to the people, acknowledging their struggles and laying out a clear plan for change. That is the kind of leadership Sierra Leone needs. That is the kind of commitment that can begin to rebuild the trust you have lost.
From today, let’s hear your voice here at home, working alongside us to build a nation we can all be proud of. Cancel the trips, stop the speeches abroad, and invest that time and energy into understanding what’s truly needed here. Listen to the doctors and teachers. Address the issues at our universities. Ensure our students get their results on time. Show us that you are here to lead not just in words but in action.
You can still make a difference, Mr. President. But it requires a complete commitment to the people who elected you. The choice is yours: to continue down this path of negligence or to turn around, humble yourself, and lead Sierra Leone back from the edge.
Our eyes are on you, Mr. President, and this time, we need action, not words.
