By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Mr. President, Can we talk for real this time? I mean a real, unfiltered conversation about what the people are whispering in their living rooms, the murmurs on street corners, and the unsaid frustrations at the back of every suffering Sierra Leonean’s mind. Let’s not dress this in diplomatic language or hide behind the camouflage of protocol. The time has come to address the elephant in the room: Jos Leijdekkers, aka Umar Sheriff.
Mr. President, what exactly have you done about him? We understand that your Minister of Justice and Attorney General has completed reviewing the indictment documents sent by the Dutch government regarding this man. We also understand that this is not your everyday criminal case. This is an international scandal—drug trafficking, money laundering, and human trafficking—and somehow, it has Sierra Leone’s name splattered all over it. Now, Mr. President, what’s next?
Are we pretending this is not our issue? Are we hoping it blows over? Or are we truly pursuing justice, transparently and unequivocally? The people want to know, and frankly, they deserve to know.
This entire saga has brought more shame than your government cares to admit. Mr. President, the streets are talking. The Diaspora is watching. The international community is not amused. Yet, your government’s silence is louder than any denial. And here’s what makes it worse: we now hear disturbing things.
Mr. President, I have been reliably informed that the woman with whom Jos Leijdekkers had three children, his partner or his wife, depending on which source you believe, has now formally requested custody of one of the children who, according to credible reports, is living under the protection and within the household of your daughter. Let that sink in.
Are you a party to this? Are we to believe that the president of a sovereign nation is now entangled in what appears to be an international child custody scandal, if not outright kidnapping? These are not small accusations, Mr. President. The people demand clarity. If what we are hearing is false, come clean and say it. If it’s true, explain yourself. This is not about politics anymore; this is about the moral and legal fabric of our nation.
Mr. President, it gets worse. De Telegraaf, one of the most respected newspapers in the Netherlands, has reported that your government is now allegedly paying journalists to stay silent on the Jos Leijdekkers saga. They report that close to five thousand euros is being offered to each media voice, and if they refuse, they are punished, blacklisted, intimidated, or worse. This is beyond troubling; this is a direct assault on press freedom, an erosion of the democratic values we claim to hold dear.
Mr. President, do you not see the irony? You constantly travel the world, attending forums and speaking on stages about democracy, transparency, and good governance. Meanwhile, back home and behind the curtains, your government is accused of muzzling journalists with hush money. If this is not hypocrisy, I don’t know what is.
Let’s be honest, sir, you are in a quagmire. Everything you touch seems to be turning to ashes. From failed healthcare promises to collapsing education standards, from the bloated size of your administration to your wife’s fantasy parade across Africa, it’s all crumbling.
Yes, Mr. President, let’s talk about your wife. I know the rumors of a fractured relationship between you two are now more than mere whispers. I know you might not see eye-to-eye on many things, but you are still the president. Yet, you allow your wife to waste the precious time of our parliamentarians, dragging them into another self-congratulatory spectacle for a position that has brought absolutely nothing to the people of Sierra Leone.
The so-called election of your wife as president of the Organization of African First Ladies (OAFLA) has brought no development, no aid, no reforms, just fanfare, vanity, and noise. But noise from an empty vessel, as we say. Millions spent, time wasted, and nothing gained.
Now she’s off to Addis Ababa again, this time for an “inauguration.” For what? Does she truly believe the praise-singing, the choreographed applause, and the PR-managed fanfare on that day meant anything? Or is she deluded enough to believe this is a prelude to her own political ascendancy?
Mr. President, “Ay Bo, Una Sef!” Have you been honest with your wife? Do you sit her down and tell her that Sierra Leoneans are tired of this charade? That her obsession with image over substance is a national embarrassment? That she can’t simply parade around the continent wearing crowns made of illusion and expect the people to cheer?
Mr. President, her “pipe dream” will all end in smoke. What this country needs right now is seriousness, not socialite politics. We need leadership, not pageantry. We need transparency, not staged narratives. We need accountability, not accolades based on who looks best in front of the camera.
The people are starving. Hospitals are empty. Roads are death traps. Youths are migrating through the desert and drowning in the sea just to escape the very government that now seeks applause. Is this what your legacy will be?
So, Mr. President, can we talk? Can we talk about why it’s taking your government so long to extradite a man whose crimes span continents, who is wanted by one of Europe’s most efficient legal systems, and yet found a haven in our country?
Can we talk about how your name and that of your daughter keep coming up in reports related to a fugitive criminal’s child? And her pregnancy?
Can we talk about the journalists now afraid to report the truth because they are either being bought or bullied?
Can we talk about how your wife’s ambition is being funded with the people’s money, while the people go to bed hungry?
Mr. President, this is not a gossip column. This is not an opposition smear campaign. These are questions that need answers. And if you continue to ignore them, they will become your legacy.
History will not remember the number of awards you collected abroad or the speeches you gave at summits. It will remember whether you stood for justice, whether you protected the integrity of Sierra Leone, or whether you sold out your people for family, image, and ego.
Mr. President, Sierra Leone is burning, not just from the flames of poverty, but from the ashes of broken promises, from the smoke of corruption, and from the stench of cover-ups.
Can we talk now? Because the clock is ticking and the people are watching.
