By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Mr. President, today marks one hundred days of our so-called “talks” on issues concerning our beloved Mama Salone, and yet, if I’m honest, I have discovered nothing but the same empty rhetoric. After a hundred days of walking up these hills (except on weekends, when I rest, or on the days I’m sick and, of course, when you are out gallivanting on your touristic escapades in our name, returning with nothing more substantial than sensational news headlines), I must ask: when will you start listening? “Dem Yu Front Page Paid Sensationalist Borbor Dem” seems to be the only lasting outcome of your trips abroad, while the pulse of our nation beats weakly at home.
I have laboured through every day, engaging in what I hoped would be genuine dialogue with you. I catalogued every conversation, every plea, every warning, even those moments when you feigned ignorance or pretended not to see me. As I’ve often said, “Mi Yon Paddy Na Crab Loss O! Aw Yu Se Wi Don Bi Paddy So Na Tae Go.” In other words, you’ve taken advantage of our shared history and trust while the country drowns under your negligent leadership. Yet, you ask: what is it that I have not told you? Tell me, Mr. President, how else can I explain that our country is sinking because of your dangerous ways?
I recall fondly the days when leaders like KKY “Alusine en Alhassan Fame inspired hope with promises of transformation. I remember when he declared, “Julius Maada Bio na man wae don dae fo 22 years en counting e nor woke aw wi go mek am President.” In those days, there was an earnest belief that good governance was within our reach. But now, it appears you have perfected the art of buying people’s loyalty. You paralyze entire political parties, strip them of their most coveted asset “Bra Yu Na Man” and then boast about your knack for gossip, turning every conversation into a currency for power. You even managed to echo the charm of “K Man” of Bingo man Fame Dem Gyal Dem Swit Heart, albeit with a different, more self-serving agenda.
Your claim of giving credence to our young people rings hollow. You boast of appointing many youths into your government, yet the reality is that it is these very youths who are now inciting chaos. The question then arises: what is Dr. David Sengeh’s real role in your governance system? Is he there to inspire progress or merely to serve as another token appointment that reinforces your control over our future leaders? Instead of empowering them, you have allowed a system that has reduced their potential into tools for your own political machinations.
Even the dynamics within your own household reveal much about the state of affairs in our government. Mr. President, it is no secret that beneath the polished veneer of public appearances, you and your wife are far from united. You appear together to project an image of domestic harmony and political stability, but behind closed doors, all is not well. This facade does not just betray personal discord; it symbolizes the larger dysfunction that permeates your administration.
Under your leadership, we have witnessed policies and actions that have far-reaching consequences for our nation. Nothing, however, disturbs me more than the havoc wrought by the KUSH, your niece Admire Bio, and her cohorts. Their activities, masquerading as a benign social phenomenon, are in reality devastating our youth. They are, quite literally, killing them like flies, and the government under your watch has done nothing to arrest this carnage. Why, Mr. President, do you allow KUSH to persist in our country? It is no accident that it serves as a means to paralyse the youth, ensuring they remain too disorganized and demoralized to stand against your rule.
The nepotism in your government is staggering. You have placed family members in every tier of our public institutions, from ambassadors and United Nations diplomats to high commissioners and heads of parastatals. Even our crucial ports, which should serve as gateways for commerce and progress, have become venues for your nefarious deals. This systematic entrenchment of familial power not only stifles merit and transparency but also undermines the very foundations of our nation’s democratic ideals.
But perhaps the most alarming of your policies is your manipulation of our legal framework. You have expunged part five of the Public Order Act and abolished the death penalty from our law books—actions that might be applauded in a different context. Yet, in their place, you have ushered in the Cyber Crime Law. This law, Mr. President, is not merely a replacement; it is a dangerous expansion of state power. Whereas the Public Order Act was confined to the borders of Sierra Leone, the Cyber Crime Law extends its reach to wherever a Sierra Leonean might be located, effectively turning our citizens into perpetual subjects of your surveillance and control.
This new law is no safeguard for our rights; it is a tool of oppression. The death penalty, now replaced in practice by extrajudicial killings, suggests that you are too impatient to adhere to due process. Instead of painstakingly proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, you have opted for the expedient method of eliminating anyone you perceive as a threat. In your haste to consolidate power, you are orchestrating a system where justice is dispensed summarily, a system that treats the lives of citizens as expendable collateral in your pursuit of authority.
The recent judicial stunt involving the Ministry of Lands only compounds these concerns. When you pulled such maneuvers, you not only undermined the rule of law but also deepened the public’s distrust in your government. The people are losing confidence, and with good reason. How can a nation be governed by someone who manipulates legal processes to suit personal ends? If you truly desire to restore faith in your leadership, you must begin by addressing these blatant abuses of power. Release Hawa Hunt and all those languishing in prison under the oppressive weight of your cyber laws. It is a first step towards a more just and transparent system if you are capable of such reform.
Then there is the scandal involving Jos Leijdekkers and your daughter, a saga that has rocked the foundations of your personal and political life. The way your wife, the First Lady, along with her so-called free advocate Dr. Sylvia Blyden, has scrambled to dissociate themselves from Jos Leijdekkers and his entourage speaks volumes. Their frantic distancing not only smacks of hypocrisy but also raises questions about the integrity of your inner circle. When even those closest to you are forced to publicly renounce association with scandal, it is a glaring indictment of the environment you have cultivated.
Mr. President, if I may be frank, our first hundred days of dialogue have been an exercise in futility. “Yu nor Lan Natin or Yu nor Dae Listen at all,” as the local parlance would have it. Your selective hearing, your calculated indifference to the struggles of the people, and your willingness to sacrifice the future of Mama Salone on the altar of personal ambition have all led us to this critical juncture. The citizens of our nation deserve better, they deserve a leader who listens, who acts with integrity, and who is unafraid to confront his own shortcomings.
I stand here, not as an adversary bent on destruction, but as a fellow citizen who is deeply invested in the fate of our nation. My commitment to engaging with you, even when it seems that my words fall on deaf ears, comes from a profound belief in the potential for change. I am fired up for our next hundred days of meetings, hoping that this time, our conversations will yield tangible improvements, a government that listens and a nation that thrives under the weight of accountability and reform.
Let this op-ed serve as a final plea: shed the trappings of nepotism, cease the self-serving legal manipulations, and for the sake of Mama Salone and its people, start governing with a conscience. Let the voices of our youth be heard not as instruments of chaos but as beacons of innovation and hope. Reclaim the integrity of our institutions by placing merit above kinship, transparency above expedience, and justice above expedient power grabs.
Mr. President, the future of Sierra Leone hangs in the balance. The streets, the hills, and the hearts of our people cry out for genuine change. The path to a better tomorrow cannot be paved with the detritus of broken promises and unjust laws. It demands that you take a long, hard look in the mirror and recognize that the time for superficial apologies and token reforms has long passed. The nation we both love deserves a leader who will rise above personal ambitions to truly serve the collective interest.
In our next hundred days, let us hope that your actions begin to reflect the aspirations of the people. Let us hope that your policies start to rebuild the trust that has been so callously eroded by nepotism, by manipulation, and by the systemic misuse of power. I remain vigilant, I remain hopeful, and I remain ready for our next conversation, one in which real change is not just discussed but decisively implemented.
Mr. President, can we talk? I implore you once again to set aside the pretense and listen, not just to the echoes of sensationalist headlines or the hollow accolades of bought loyalty, but to the genuine voices of the people. Our conversation is far from over. If anything, it is a call to action, a desperate appeal for accountability and reform that our beloved Mama Salone so urgently needs.
Let our next hundred days be a turning point. Let it be a time when your government evolves from a mechanism of suppression and patronage into an engine of hope, progress, and genuine empowerment for every citizen. The time for empty dialogue has ended; the time for decisive action is now.
I remain fired up for our next meeting, Mr. President, ready to challenge, to question, and to demand the change that our nation so desperately needs.
