By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Well, Mr. President, “Wi Hangry,” “Wi Wan Yeat,” “Wi Wan Drink,” and “Oh Ya Dae Ples Dark Bad.”.
These are not the lofty demands of an entitled people, Mr. President. These are the cries of survival from a nation pushed to the brink. Our wants are not extravagant; they are the simplest of human needs: food, water, light, and dignity. Yet, it appears that your government has chosen grandstanding and self-congratulatory rhetoric over addressing the real issues we face daily.
Mr. President, in a land where the cries of hunger echo louder than the rhetoric of political speeches, you have chosen to introduce more hurdles for the very people who hold this fragile nation together, the market women. These are the mothers, wives, and sisters who wake up before dawn, toil under the blistering sun, and scrape together enough to ensure their families eat at least one meal a day. And yet, you have now made even that a monumental struggle.
Mr. President, do you understand the chaos you’ve unleashed with the new measuring cups your Standards Bureau has imposed on market women? Do you realize the ripple effect this seemingly simple directive has on the families that depend on these women’s earnings?
Mr. President, for generations, these women have used traditional cups to sell rice, sugar, flour, and other staples. These cups, though imperfect by your administration’s standards, have served as the backbone of trade in our markets. Nobody ever complained about them. Nobody ever said they were unfair. But now, you’ve disrupted their livelihoods under the guise of “standardization.”
Mr. President, “Dem Woman Dem Ya Wae Dem Use Dem Cup Dae Fo Sell?” These women already operate on razor-thin margins. The price of a bag of rice is skyrocketing, the cost of transportation is unbearable, and inflation erodes their profits before they even make a sale. With your new measuring cups, many can no longer afford to buy a new bag of rice or sugar to sell. The income they once depended on to pay school fees, rent, and medical bills has been slashed.
This isn’t just about cups, Mr. President. It’s about survival. These cups have turned a precarious situation into an impossible one. And who bears the brunt of this burden? The market women and the families they support.
Mr. President, you have already sold so much of what belongs to us. The fish in our waters, once a staple of our diets and a source of livelihood for countless families, is now being carted off to foreign markets. The sand from our beaches, essential to our environment and local construction, has been sold off in deals shrouded in secrecy. The diamonds, Mr. President, our nation’s crown jewels, have long been a source of conflict and exploitation, and yet the people still await the promises of prosperity they were supposed to bring.
Now, it seems you’ve turned your sights on the one remaining pillar of resilience, the women of Sierra Leone.
When you target these women, Mr. President, you’re not just targeting individuals. You’re dismantling the support systems of entire households, neighbourhoods, and communities. These women are our last hope in a country where governance has failed to provide. They keep the lights on in homes, however dim they may be. They ensure children go to bed with something in their stomachs, however meager the meal may be.
Mr. President, it’s time for you and your Standards Bureau to leave these women alone.
Mr. President, the introduction of these measuring cups does nothing to address the root causes of the food crisis. It does not reduce the price of rice, sugar, or flour. It does not increase the availability of these goods. All it does is exacerbate the suffering of those already at the margins of society.
And for what? To give the illusion that your government is “doing something”? To check a box in a policy document? To satisfy the IMF or the world, or maybe to help raise funds for your crazy travel escapades.
Mr. President, we don’t need illusions. We need solutions. It is hard to ignore the pattern of governance under your leadership. From international trips aimed at polishing your image to award ceremonies that mean little to the average Sierra Leonean, your priorities seem detached from the realities on the ground. Mr. President, the cries of the people are not being heard. Instead, we see a government that is more interested in chest-thumping and blame-shifting than in rolling up its sleeves and addressing the issues that matter.
Mr. President, have you ever walked through the markets of Freetown, Bo, or Kenema, Makeni, or even across the entire nation and spoken to the women there? Have you looked into their eyes and seen the weariness etched into their faces? Do you understand the sacrifices they make daily to ensure their children eat?
These women don’t ask for much. They don’t expect miracles. All they want is to be left to do what they’ve always done: work hard and provide for their families.
Mr. President, instead of burdening them with unnecessary regulations, why not focus on policies that actually improve their lives? Subsidize the cost of basic goods. Invest in market infrastructure. Provide access to credit so they can expand their businesses. Wi Hangry,” “Wi Wan Yeat,” “Wi Wan Drink,” “Oh Ya Dae Ples Dark Bad,” “ds Off Our Market Women Mr. President Hands Off, Please”
Mr. President, these are not just words. They reflect the daily struggles of millions of Sierra Leoneans. When the lights go out, when the water stops flowing, when the cost of food becomes unbearable, it is not you or your ministers who suffer. It is the people. And when you target the market women, the very backbone of our society, you are striking at the heart of our resilience.
Mr. President, I urge you to reconsider your stance on this issue. Tell your Standards Bureau to abandon this misguided policy. Listen to the voices of the women in the markets. Recognize their role as the unsung heroes of our nation.
It’s time to focus on real solutions, not cosmetic changes. It’s time to prioritize the needs of the people over the desires of the few. And it’s time to restore hope to a nation that is rapidly losing it. Mr. President, hands off our market women. Sierra Leone deserves better, and it starts with leadership that listens. The choice is yours, Mr. President. Will you continue to grandstand, or will you finally address the cries of a hungry, desperate nation? Can We Talk? Mr. President! “Suu Yema Dee,” “Wi Wan Yeat.”
