By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Mr. President, can we talk? No, not the kind of talking you do once a year when you dress in expensive ceremonial outfits and address the nation on Independence Day or religious holidays like Christmas, Easter, or Ramadan. I mean real talk. A national address on the issues that matter, not with a beaming smile on the red carpet abroad, but here, right here, in the land that is crumbling under your watch.
Mr. President, our people are crying.
Have you heard of the plight of the workers at Koidu Holdings? Of course you have, but like many times before, you pretend not to hear. Hundreds of Sierra Leoneans, mostly youths, have been thrown into the streets overnight like disposable rags. Men and women who woke up every morning with pride to work, feed their families, pay school fees, take care of aging parents, and contribute to the economy of their communities in Kono District, have now been stripped of their dignity.
Mr. President, their loss is not just personal, it is communal. The ripple effect is devastating.
The vendors who sold them food have no one to sell to. The motorcycle riders who ferried them to and from the mines now waited in vain for passengers. The tailors, barbers, and petty traders whose daily bread came from the wages of those miners are now idle, watching their little capital dry up like a seasonal stream in December. That is the reality on the ground, Mr. President. That is what your leadership has delivered, joblessness and despair.
And what did your government do in response?
Nothing
Even worse, instead of the Ministry of Labour, the institution constitutionally mandated to handle workers’ rights and industrial relations, intervening, your wife, the First Lady, took over. Mr. President, let me ask boldly: why was the Ministry of Labour usurped by your wife?
Since when did your wife become the mouthpiece of labor policy in this country?
With all due respect to the Office of the First Lady, this is not a fashion exhibition or a school lunch program. This is a serious economic and social crisis, one that falls squarely under the purview of your government. Mr. President, the people did not vote for a couple. They voted for a president and a government bound by law and guided by institutional responsibility. We are not a monarchy where the queen can rule in silence behind the king’s smile.
Where is the Labour Congress in all this? Have they been silenced too?
Mr. President, in countries where institutions are respected, mass layoffs like these would trigger press conferences, emergency meetings, negotiations, and tangible responses to cushion the workers. But in Sierra Leone under your leadership, not even a proper explanation is offered to the people. Instead, we get Instagram posts, red carpet appearances, and selfies with foreign investors, investors who don’t invest in us.
You should have addressed the nation when the layoffs happened.
You should have looked those families in the eye and told them what you intend to do, not through poetic tweets or staged public relations gimmicks, but by taking the podium, facing the people, and speaking truth, plan, and empathy. That’s what real leaders do, Mr. President.
But no. You were too busy packing your bags for another trip to the United States, the UK, Samoa, wherever there’s a flashing camera and a hollow award to collect.
Mr. President, do you care that the young men who once earned an honest living in the mines will now be dragged into the hell of Kush addiction? Do you know that Kono, like many other districts, is seeing a rise in mental illness, criminality, and hopelessness because youths have nowhere else to turn? They are losing their minds while you are losing touch with reality.
We do not need any more pictures of you shaking hands with global elites who don’t know or care that we exist. We need leadership. We need governance. We need you to be present in Sierra Leone, not just for Sierra Leone.
Mr. President, this exodus of jobs is not an isolated tragedy. It is the product of a deeper dysfunction, a governance model that is allergic to accountability, that thrives on media optics rather than real results. You and your government have turned the country into a stage, where every crisis is an opportunity for distraction rather than redress.
And when your silence becomes too loud, you wait until Independence Day to give us a speech filled with recycled promises and selective truths. That is not good enough.
You travel more than the average commercial pilot, Mr. President, yet our roads are still death traps, our hospitals are still mortuaries, and our educational system is producing more desperation than graduates. You claim to be seeking investors abroad, but what are they investing in? Ghost towns? Broken institutions? Hollowed-out communities like Koidu?
If investors see that even our government cannot protect the jobs of its citizens, why should they come?
If your government has allowed one of the biggest employers in Kono to lay off its staff without so much as a serious public intervention, what signal does that send to every other employer? That they can do whatever they please and your government will look the other way, or worse, send your wife to pacify the people with scripted concern and no solutions?
Mr. President, the people of Kono have given much to this country: diamonds, labour, and loyalty. And this is how they are repaid with unemployment and abandonment?
Let us not pretend this is about Kono alone. Today it is Koidu Holdings. Tomorrow it could be Sierra Rutile, Leone Rock, or any of the companies still operating on shaky contracts and looted promises. The writing is on the wall. And the youth are watching. What do we expect them to become volunteers of patriotism or victims of a system that betrayed them.
Mr. President, this cannot go on.
We demand, not request, a full, transparent address to the nation. One that details:
Why these layoffs happened without government mitigation,
Why the Ministry of Labour was silent while your wife stepped in,
What actions will be taken to assist the affected workers and communities,
What steps are in place to prevent this economic trauma from repeating elsewhere.
We also want to hear from the Minister of Labour. Not through a brief press release or a social media post, but on national television. Let the Parliament summon him. Let civil society speak. Let the Labour Congress reclaim its voice. If we are to be a country of laws and not personalities, then institutions must rise above individuals, including the First Lady.
Mr. President, leadership is not about red carpets and awards. It is about standing with your people in their darkest hour, providing light, guidance, and strength. But you have been missing, sir, absent when the nation needed your presence most.
This nation is not an Instagram gallery. It is a wounded home in desperate need of healing. And that healing begins with truth, with humility, and with you, Mr. President, standing before us and taking responsibility.
Can we talk Mr. President? Not through billboards. Not through paid commentators. But man to people.
Because if we do not talk now, the silence will become unbearable. And no amount of travel or awards will shield you from the judgment of history, or the wrath of a people scorned.
We are waiting.
