By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Author of “Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance”
Recipient of the Africa Renaissance Leadership Award, 2025
Mr. President, today marks the 150th time I am asking you, can we talk? Each time, I pray that a spark of self-reflection would guide you to pause, listen, and do better. Yet, every day, it’s a new disappointment. Yesterday was one issue. Today, another. And sadly, none of these are worthy of celebration. None that we can proudly write home about or hold up as a beacon of hope for our suffering people.
Let me be frank: your administration continues to operate like a bloated, self-serving syndicate rather than a public institution. The deliberate overloading of your government with supporters, loyalists, and praise-singers, not for competence but for compensation, has become a national disaster. At a time when Sierra Leoneans are struggling to put food on the table, you’re handing out appointments like wedding invitations. What happened to lean government, effective service delivery, and national interest?
And now, the bribes for 2028 have started, not in brown envelopes, but in the form of job offers, inflated contracts, and strategic endorsements. Mr. President, though your name will not be on the ballot paper in 2028, your fingerprints are all over this desperate attempt to secure a successor who will protect your legacy, or perhaps your secrets. Your obsession with a hand-picked protégé is not about democracy but about dynasty. It is a selfish quest to extend your influence from behind the curtain after you’ve constitutionally vacated the State House.
Let’s talk about the census. You shifted it, and no one knows exactly why. You told us, under a presidential proclamation, that it would be in December. The people prepared, civil society watched, and the world waited. And then, silence. A sudden shift. And what did your officials at Statistics Sierra Leone do? They retreated behind the excuse of past disruptions. But Mr. President, let me be clear: the fact that something wrong happened before does not justify repeating it. If past governments failed the people with data manipulation or administrative chaos, yours should rise above, not sink lower.
Data is power. Data is governance. A government without accurate data is like a ship without a compass. Yet your regime continues to manipulate or delay data collection to serve political ends, to redraw constituencies, to inflate strongholds, and to disenfranchise opponents. That’s not leadership. That’s electoral malpractice in slow motion.
And how can we have this conversation without talking about Yenga? Mr. President, let me remind you once again: Yenga is Sierra Leone. It was, it is, and it must remain so. But what have you done about it? You send ministers with golden tongues to whitewash your failures, while Guinean soldiers continue to annex our land. Your Minister of Information stood before the nation, twisting facts, lying through his teeth about progress that doesn’t exist. He said things are under control. But are they?
Your Minister of Foreign Affairs took a tour of Yenga, and what did he do? He used the opportunity not to defend our sovereignty, but to sing your praises. It’s as if he was at a political rally, not on a diplomatic mission to reclaim stolen territory. Mr. President, this is not about you. This is about our land, our people, and our pride. Yet your government behaves as if you have a monopoly over knowledge, and everyone else is either ignorant or irrelevant.
Mr. President, “Wi don taya o, wi don taya wit you gofment.”
We are tired of the lies.
We are tired of the deception.
We are tired of the poverty.
We are tired of the fear.
We are tired of the manipulation.
We are tired of the betrayal.
We are tired because you promised a “New Direction,” but what we got is a rerun of the same old dysfunction, only this time with more arrogance and less shame. You promised to listen, but you’ve surrounded yourself with people who echo your thoughts, massage your ego, and shield you from the people’s cries.
You cannot pretend to govern in a vacuum. The people are not blind. They see how your government protects drug lords and enablers of Kush, even as our youths perish in alleyways and on street corners. They see how millions are spent on foreign trips, first-class hotels, and phony international conferences, while hospitals lack medicine and schools fall apart.
You say you care, but your actions scream otherwise. You say you’re fighting corruption, but the fight is selective, aimed at your enemies while your allies loot with impunity. The Anti-Corruption Commission has become a weapon, not an institution of justice. Sierra Leoneans watch, and they remember.
And while we’re at it, Mr. President, let’s talk about the price of silence. Why is it that your government becomes hostile to dissenting voices? Why is it that critics are targeted, intimidated, or shamed, while those who sing your praises, no matter how incompetent, are rewarded? Democracy is not about suppressing opposition. It is about accountability, transparency, and trust.
We have seen how opposition voices are muted, how civil society leaders are harassed, and how journalists are detained or frightened into self-censorship. Mr. President, a democracy that fears criticism is no democracy at all.
Let’s talk about our youth, broken, drugged, and disillusioned. You promised them jobs, skills, and a future. But what did you deliver? A toxic mix of unemployment, hopelessness, and Kush. And instead of tackling the roots—poverty, exclusion, and poor education—your government wages war on symptoms while protecting the suppliers. Why?
You boasted of building roads. But what good are roads when the people walking on them are hungry? You celebrated a new airport terminal, but how many Sierra Leoneans can afford a flight? You increased taxes, but wages remain stagnant. You built administrative buildings but failed to build trust.
Mr. President, we need more than infrastructure. We need institutions. We need justice. We need truth. We need dignity.
And now, after all the damage, all the betrayal, all the failed promises, you want to impose your successor on us? You want to bypass the will of the people for your personal comfort? Sierra Leone is not your kingdom. It is a republic. And in a republic, power belongs to the people, not the palace.
Your time is almost up, and history will judge you. You still have a chance to rewrite your legacy, not by forcing a successor, not by silencing critics, but by doing what is right.
Acknowledge your failures. Apologize to the people. Reclaim Yenga without theatrics. Fund public services over political patronage. Let the Anti-Corruption Commission operate independently. Allow the electoral process to be truly free and fair. And finally, Mr. President, listen, really listen, to the cries of the nation.
Mr. President, can we talk?
This is the 150th time I’m asking.
How many more before you finally listen?
