By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Yes, Mr. President, Can We Talk? Yesterday’s revelation shocked me to my core. In a country where disasters strike with no warning and tragedies have become the soundtrack of our everyday lives, I was dumbfounded to learn that the entire capital city, Freetown, with nearly two million people, is served by just three fire hydrants. Three, Mr. President! Not thirty. Not even thirteen. Just three. In a city so densely populated, with rising slums, crowded buildings, and commercial hotspots igniting with risk, you dare allow such an insult to public safety? Mr. President, this is not just shameful; it is criminal negligence.
What’s worse, the State House itself, the very epicenter of our national governance, the symbol of our sovereignty and power, does not even have its own fire engine! You heard me right, Mr. President. The place where the Commander-in-Chief sits, where sensitive information is stored, and where the beating heart of government resides was left vulnerable to flames without even a single emergency backup system in place.
What befell the State House on Sunday, 12th April, is not just an unfortunate accident; it is a national security issue. It exposes the rot in the system, the lack of foresight, the disregard for infrastructure, and, above all, the absence of leadership. In many countries, every major security apparatus—military, police, presidency—has its own dedicated fire engine and emergency units on standby. Why is that not the case in Sierra Leone? Why is it that our only line of defense against fire, the already crippled National Fire Force, had to watch its only engine break down due to lack of fuel?
Mr. President, I repeat, lack of fuel! And then you parade yourself across the globe, holding press conferences as a one-man show, boasting about imaginary progress and prosperity that your people are not experiencing. Do you think the Turkish people you were sitting with yesterday are fools? Do you think they don’t read? Don’t you see what’s happening in Sierra Leone? Or are you simply used to living in a bubble of delusion, where the only truth is what you tell yourself?
Mr. President, while you were in Türkiye smiling for the cameras, your country was literally on fire. The State House, your office, was under threat, and yet you didn’t even consider boarding the next available plane home to demonstrate leadership. You couldn’t be bothered. No urgency. No empathy. No sense of responsibility. Just another day of you gallivanting around the world looking for awards and applause.
When the fire broke out, people expected action. What they got instead was silence. No national address. No press briefing. No call for calm. Just deafening silence from the highest office of the land. Mr. President, even a landlord would show more concern if his house was on fire. You? You chose to carry on with business as usual. It’s as if Sierra Leone is a toy in your hands, and its people mere spectators in your self-serving performance.
Mr. President, then there’s nothing left to hide. And truly, sir, you have lost your shame. You have failed the basic test of leadership, not once, not twice, but constantly, repeatedly, without remorse.
Let me tell you what true leadership looks like. When the Notre-Dame Cathedral caught fire in France, President Emmanuel Macron immediately left everything and stood before the people. He addressed them. He mourned with them. He pledged support. That’s what leaders do. They lead in the fire, not just from podiums abroad.
But you, Mr. President, are busy flying from country to country selling an image of Sierra Leone that doesn’t exist. Meanwhile, here at home, children are dying in hospital corridors, young people are being buried in mass graves, and now, even your statehouse can’t escape the flames of your irresponsibility.
What exactly are you telling the international community? That Sierra Leone is rising? That development is booming. That people are happy. Roses from your leadership? No, sir. We are not smelling roses; we are choking on the smoke of failed systems, collapsed institutions, and your insatiable hunger for global applause.
I am not here to insult you, Mr. President. I am here to speak truth to power. I am here to reflect the pain and frustration of a people abandoned by their leader. I am here to ask, what will it take for you to finally take this nation seriously? How many more buildings must burn? How many more fire engines must break down? How many more children must die due to lack of ambulances, oxygen, and medical facilities? How many more lies will you feed to the world while your people starve at home?
Mr. President, Sierra Leone is not your property. It belongs to us all. The presidency is not your inheritance; it is a trust. And you have broken that trust over and over again. And if no one has told you yet, let me be the first: you are a bad dream to the people of this country. A nightmare from which we desperately want to wake up.
I don’t care if you’re happy with what I’m saying. I don’t care if you’re angry. What matters to me is the truth. And the truth is, Sierra Leoneans are tired. We are tired of being lied to. Tired of broken systems. Tired of presidents who lead only in name, but not in action.
So yes, Mr. President, Can We Talk? Not in Türkiye. Not on CNN. Not at another vanity award ceremony. But here. In Sierra Leone. Among the ashes of burnt dreams. Among the tears of grieving families. Among the screams of a fire brigade without fuel.
Because we need you here, Mr. President. We need leadership. We need action. We need a leader who runs toward the fire, not one who runs toward the cameras. The question is, Mr. President, are you ready to lead, or do you prefer the applause of foreign strangers over the cries of your own people? We await your answer.
