By Alpha Amadu Jalloh, author of Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance
Recipient, Africa Renaissance Leadership Award 2025
Mr. President, can we talk again? I know you are busy. There is always a plane to catch, a foreign handshake to squeeze, and a camera to pose for. But, Mr. President, the country is in flames, and the smoke has reached beyond our borders. We need to talk.
Mr. President, have you seen the latest declaration from the United States of America? The same U.S. that you and your ministers love to visit and praise in press releases has now officially labeled Sierra Leone a drug transshipment hub. Mr. President, that is not a diplomatic label. That is a scarlet letter placed on our nation’s forehead. That is shame printed in bold.
Mr. President, do you understand what this means for us? For the honest travelers, for the hardworking students, for the ordinary Sierra Leoneans living in Europe, America, or Australia, or just trying to get a visa to go anywhere to find hope? It means suspicion. It means humiliation. It means being stopped at airports, strip-searched, denied jobs, denied dignity, and treated as criminals before even speaking. All because our country’s name has now become synonymous with cocaine and heroin.
Mr. President, this isn’t the kind of international attention Sierra Leone needs. We are not known for innovation, not for our education system, not for clean governance, or for thriving tourism. We are now known as a route for narco-traffickers. What happened, Mr. President? How did we get here?
Mr. President, let us be honest. This didn’t happen overnight. The signs were there. The shady landings. The strange disappearances of seized contraband. The VIPs walking free after customs raised red flags. The whispers are about certain powerful people protecting foreign drug lords in return for dollars soaked in blood and powder. But instead of cleaning up the rot, you chose to cover it up. You allowed it to fester.
And now, Mr. President, the world is no longer whispering. They are naming. And they are pointing.
Mr. President, what explanation can you offer the people about Jos Leijdekkers, the wanted Dutch drug kingpin hiding right here in Sierra Leone? The Netherlands has asked for his extradition. The international community is watching. Yet your Minister of Justice refuses to act. Mr. President, why?
Is it true, as the rumours claim, that Jos Leijdekkers is being protected by the Sierra Leone Police? Is it true that some of your officials are shielding this man? If it is not true, Mr. President, then prove it. Extradite him. Show the world that Sierra Leone is not a playground for foreign criminals. Show that we are a sovereign nation, not a haven for drug barons.
But you have said nothing, Mr. President. Your silence is loud. It sounds like complicity. It feels like betrayal.
Mr. President, what are we telling the world? That our justice system has no spine? That foreign traffickers can find shelter here while our prisons overflow with poor boys arrested for smoking weed in the ghetto? That the law bends only for those who can pay?
Mr. President, Is that the legacy you want?
Let’s talk about another burning issue, Mr. President. One that affects thousands of families directly. What is your wife’s role in the recent job losses at Koidu Holdings? Mr. President, you may try to spin it. You may say it is just business restructuring. But the streets know better.
There is a growing public belief, rightly or wrongly, that the First Lady’s interference in Koidu Holdings led to these mass layoffs. Mr. President, people are talking about favoritism, about power being used to settle scores, and about pressure on the management to bend to her will or face consequences. When workers refused, they were sacked. Simple.
Mr. President, when did first ladies start managing our mineral companies? When did they become unofficial CEOs of our economy? Your wife is not a cabinet minister. She is not elected. She holds no constitutional portfolio. Yet she is everywhere, meddling in state affairs, issuing directives, and now, allegedly, causing people to lose their livelihoods.
Is this fair, Mr. President?
Over one thousand Sierra Leoneans have lost their jobs at Koidu Holdings. That is not just one thousand individuals. That is one thousand households. One thousand tables without food. One thousand school fees unpaid. One thousand medical bills left hanging. This is not an isolated issue. This is economic warfare against your own people, Mr. President.
Yet, there has been no official explanation. No press conference. No accountability. Nothing.
Mr. President, can we talk, not in slogans, but in facts?
Sierra Leone is bleeding, not just from poverty, but from corruption and abuse of power. You stood on a platform promising a “New Direction.” But what direction is this, Mr. President, when foreign criminals feel safer here than our own people? What direction is this when spouses of elected officials become more powerful than cabinet ministers?
Mr. President, when the U.S. classified us as a drug hub, it was not just a political statement. It was a diplomatic slap. It was a warning that the world has lost patience. It was a signal that our borders are compromised, our ports infiltrated, and our systems captured. And the world will not tolerate it.
Mr. President, are you aware of what follows such classifications? Sanctions. Visa restrictions. Aid suspensions. Declining foreign investments. International blacklisting. All of which will hurt the same people you claim to serve.
Mr. President, this is no longer about opposition politics. This is about the image and survival of Sierra Leone. This is about how we are seen. How we are treated. And how we move forward.
You cannot stay silent. You cannot pretend nothing is happening. You must speak. And more than speak, you must act.
Mr. President, order an independent investigation into how Jos Leijdekkers entered this country and who is shielding him. Cooperate with the Dutch authorities. Show the world we are not part of the cartel. And make sure our justice system is not for sale.
Mr. President, tell the people what happened at Koidu Holdings. Why were those people sacked? What role did your wife play? And what will you do to make things right?
You may think the people will forget. But they won’t. Because their pain is daily. Their suffering is constant. And your silence only makes the wound deeper.
Mr. President, we have one passport. One flag. One country. And when it is soiled by drugs.
