By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Author of Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance
Recipient of the Africa Renaissance Leadership Award
Mr. President, can we talk?
There is something fundamentally wrong with how you travel. And no, this is not about envy. This is not about politics. This is about priorities. This is about the disgrace of leadership that thinks more of jets and handshakes abroad than of the empty pots and crying children back home.
Mr. President, in the past month alone, we have seen diplomats and high-level delegations from powerful nations visit countries in Africa, including Sierra Leone. Many of them come on a clear mission. They arrive. They meet. They sign or announce something. Then they leave. Most times, Mr. President, they do not even spend twenty-four hours. But they get the job done. Their movements are precise. Their engagements are strategic. Their expenses are justified. And they go back home with results. Not speeches. Not photographs. Not a bluff. Results.
But you, Mr. President. You are a tourist in chief. When you travel, the country waits and wonders what exactly the trip will yield. You are sometimes gone for weeks. Sometimes months. In some cases, you leap from one country to another as if on a personal vacation. And we, the taxpayers, are left footing the bill for your chartered jets at a cost of fourteen thousand United States dollars per air kilometre. Yes, Mr. President. Fourteen thousand per kilometre. In a country where public hospitals cannot afford gloves and fuel. In a country where civil servants wait months for salaries. In a country where children study by candlelight and mothers give birth on bare floors.
Mr. President, what exactly are we paying for? You board private jets, fly first class, stay in luxury hotels, and take entourages that look like wedding receptions, and yet you come back with nothing to show. No new trade deals. No foreign direct investment. No improved bilateral agreements. No economic breakthrough. Just photos. Smiles. Statements. And silence. And then you return home and lecture us about patriotism and sacrifice. Mr. President, with all due respect, this is not leadership. This is performance. Expensive, directionless performance.
Let us compare this. When the German Chancellor or the French Foreign Minister visits any country, they arrive in the morning and leave before sunset. The British High Commissioner delivers impact with minimal noise. Even African leaders like Paul Kagame of Rwanda or Nana Akufo-Addo of Ghana plan their foreign trips with direct national outcomes in mind. But you, Mr. President, are travelling as if the world owes you attention. You shake hands, take photographs, attend side events, post press releases, and return with bags full of brochures and empty promises.
Mr. President, let us ask the hard questions. How many trade deals have your foreign trips brought into Sierra Leone? How many factories were opened because of your journeys? How many investors have started work on the ground after all your global roadshows? Where are the jobs? Where are the industries? Where are the scholarships? Where is the evidence?
You told us that foreign travel was part of diplomacy. That you were selling Sierra Leone to the world. But now it feels like you are selling dreams to a desperate people while enjoying luxuries they will never taste. You are a salesman without a product. A diplomat without delivery.
Mr. President, there is more. The embassies you claim to coordinate with are ghosts. Our missions abroad are underfunded. Staff are unpaid. Buildings are crumbling. Documents are delayed. Sierra Leoneans living abroad complain daily of how disrespectfully they are treated by our own consulates. Meanwhile, you are flying over them in private jets, completely disconnected from the reality of your citizens in the diaspora.
The foreign missions are supposed to be an extension of your office. They are supposed to advance our interests globally. But they are failing. And they are failing because there is no clear directive, no follow-up, no strategic alignment, and no budget discipline. Diplomats from other countries come into Sierra Leone and spend just a few hours. But those few hours yield tangible partnerships, investment pledges, and sometimes millions in support. You, Mr. President, spend weeks away, and we get nothing but noise and edited press briefings on national television.
Do you realize, Mr. President, that every unnecessary kilometre flown with your chartered flight is a hospital bed not bought? A school not renovated? A police post not resourced? A road not fixed? Do you know that the money spent on one of your extended trips could fund dozens of boreholes for clean drinking water in rural districts?
Mr. President, when you were elected, people believed in your story. They believed that you had come to serve, not to shine. But your lifestyle in office now mirrors that of a monarch, not a servant. And in doing so, you have betrayed the very people who looked to you for change.
Sierra Leone is bleeding, Mr. President. The economy is on life support. Our youth are drowning in drugs. Our girls are being trafficked and abused in the Middle East. Our boys are dying in the Mediterranean trying to reach Europe. The price of food is beyond reach. Jobs are scarce. Businesses are collapsing. But your calendar remains filled with foreign engagements. If travel were development, we would be Dubai by now.
Mr. President, the people want a leader who stays. Who listens? Who fixes? Not one who flies and flaunts. You need to begin to lead from within, not from the air. Your presence in this country should be more than ceremonial. You need to sit with your ministers, challenge them, monitor them, and make decisions based on the real pain of your people, not the scripted reports prepared for your return.
You also need to audit your travel record. How many kilometres flown? How much was spent? How many people are in your entourage? What did each trip produce for Sierra Leone? And if the answer is nothing, then, Mr. President, you owe this nation an apology. A real one. Not a press release. Not a blame-shift. A sincere, humble apology for wasting the people’s money at a time when every Leone counts.
Mr. President, patriotism is not about waving flags and quoting the national anthem. It is about respecting the people’s resources. It is about leading with integrity. It is about knowing when to stay grounded. The time has come for you to stop the bluff. Stop the back-talking. Stop the excuses. And start showing results.
Mr. President, we are not interested in where you went, who you met, or what you wore. We want to know what you brought back. What changed? What improved? What did we gain? And if nothing, then why did you go?
Mr. President, can we talk?
