By Alpha Amadu Jalloh, Award-Winning Author of “Monopoly of Happiness.”
Freetown—Nairobi. Even as I sat in Nairobi, Kenya, after receiving the Africa Renaissance Leadership Award for my contributions to the continent, my heart ached, not with pride, but with sorrow for my beloved Sierra Leone. At a moment that should have been a celebration, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss. Our president had abandoned us on our own Independence Day.
In a stunning abandonment of national duty, President Julius Maada Bio chose to prioritize foreign ceremonies over Sierra Leone’s Independence Day, leaving the nation disillusioned and heartbroken. At a time when leadership and presence mattered most, our president went missing physically, morally, and symbolically. As food prices soar, drugs infest our streets, and hope flickers dimly across the country, Sierra Leoneans are left asking, Mr. President, can we talk?
Today, I speak for the millions whose hearts you broke.
Mr. President, how could you place the interests of the Pope, an honorable man but one with no immediate historical relevance to our nation’s plight, above the very people who carried you to the highest office in the land? How could you abandon your nation on the one day when your presence mattered most, our Independence Day?
This is not merely disappointing, Mr. President. It is a national shame.
No sane or patriotic leader would prioritize photo opportunities abroad over standing side by side with their own struggling people at home.
You left for Rome, pre-recording your address to the nation like an afterthought, like a routine chore that had to be quickly swept aside. And why? For photo ops with international figures like President Joe Biden? Let me tell you, Mr. President: for a mountain of gold, President Biden would never abandon his country during America’s Independence Day celebrations. Never. For leaders who understand the weight of their oath, Independence Day is sacred. It is not a day for self-promotion abroad. It is a day to honor the spirit and sacrifice of the nation at home.
But you, Mr. President, abandoned us without a second thought.
You treated Sierra Leone like an inconvenience.
You made us feel invisible, forgotten, and betrayed.
Was the handshake in Rome worth the heartbreak in Freetown, Bo, Kenema, Makeni, Koidu, and Bonthe?
Because that’s what you achieved: national heartbreak.
Sierra Leoneans are suffering, Mr. President.
The cost of living is unbearable. Food insecurity is rampant. Unemployment eats away at our youth. The hospitals are bare. Our streets are littered with broken dreams. The poor are suffocating under the weight of hopelessness, while the rich flaunt their untouchable arrogance.
And yet, even amidst this suffering, we dared to hope that on Independence Day, we would unite as one people under one flag. That we would feel, if only for a moment, seen and valued.
But you, Mr. President, crushed that hope.
Even worse, you continue to protect drug barons and criminals, granting them impunity while the honest citizen languishes. You know their names. We know their names. The entire nation whispers about them. Yet no justice is served. No accountability is demanded.
How can you turn a blind eye, Mr. President, while our society drowns in drugs, crime, and moral decay?
Where is the leadership we so desperately need?
Where is the moral compass that should guide this nation?
Leadership is not about jet-setting around the world for handshakes and applause.
Leadership is about being there, especially when your people need you the most.
Mr. President, you went AWOL on us, Absent Without Loyalty.
And no glossy photo with a world leader can erase that truth.
You betrayed the child who still dreams of a better Sierra Leone.
You betrayed the elderly who fought for freedom with their bare hands and hearts.
You betrayed the mother who wonders how to feed her children tonight.
You betrayed the youth whose future you swore to build, not abandon.
No president before you, in our young and painful history, has ever fled their duty on Independence Day.
Not one.
You have carved your own dark record into the history books:
The first president of Sierra Leone to forsake his people on the day that defines our freedom.
Mr. President, can we talk? Because our hearts are not just broken, they are shattered.
You owe us the people, Mr. President.
You owe the street vendor braving the rain a few coins to feed her family.
You owe the farmer struggling against drought and poverty.
You owe the teacher who hasn’t been paid in months but still shows up for her students.
You owe the families displaced by corruption and neglect.
You owe us your time, your voice, and your presence, not your absence.
Mr. President, Sierra Leone is not just a passport you carry.
It is not just a flag you wave at international conferences.
It is a living, breathing soul, a soul that you have bruised and battered with your disregard.
Our Independence Day is not just a ceremonial date. It is the heart and soul of our people. It is the bloodline that connects us to the sacrifices of heroes past, the ones who bled, fought, and died so that we might one day walk freely under our own sun.
And this year, on that sacred day, you were missing.
Mr. President, can we talk?
Because our patience is not infinite.
Our hopes are not indestructible.
Our trust is not unconditional.
Every act of abandonment carves deeper wounds into the soul of our nation.
And trust, once broken, is a difficult thing to mend.
Sierra Leoneans are a proud people.
We have endured slavery, colonization, war, disease, poverty, and betrayal.
But we have never accepted disrespect.
And we will not accept it now.
We deserve better.
We demand better.
We will hold you accountable.
Because Sierra Leone does not belong to you.
It belongs to the people.
It belongs to every grandmother in Kabala, every fisherman in Tombo, every street child in Freetown, and every market woman in Bo.
It belongs to us.
And if you cannot see that, Mr. President, then perhaps you are standing on the wrong side of history.
Mr. President, our hearts are broken, yes.
But our spirits are not defeated.
Our dreams are not dead.
Our love for this land burns brighter than your absence.
And in the days to come, whether you listen or not, whether you stay or leave, we will rise.
We will rise, not because of you, but in spite of you.
We will rise because Sierra Leone belongs to those who dare to believe, dare to sacrifice, and dare to stand firm even when leaders falter.
Mr. President, can we talk?
Because your people are speaking.
And whether you hear us or not, history surely will.
Alpha Amadu Jalloh is a human rights advocate, peace builder, and award-winning author of “Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance.” He was honored with the Africa Renaissance Leadership Award in Nairobi, Kenya.
