By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Christmas is meant to be a pause in human suffering. It is meant to be a season where burdens are softened by laughter, where pain retreats briefly in the face of hope, where families gather to remind one another that life still has meaning beyond survival. But in Sierra Leone this year, Christmas has arrived without warmth, without reassurance, without dignity. This is not Christmas as it should be. This is Pan Lamp Krismes.
A Christmas without hope is the cruelest experience any human being can face. Hope is the oxygen of survival. When it is absent, even food tastes bitter, even music sounds hollow, even prayer feels heavy. Across Sierra Leone this year, hope has gone missing. What remains is endurance, not living. What remains is the daily calculation of how to survive another day, another night, another month. This is not celebration. This is endurance disguised as festivity.
Sierra Leoneans are living what can only be described as a Zombie apocalypse. People move, work, hustle, and smile mechanically, but inside they are exhausted, empty, and frightened. It is the survival of the fittest, yet even some of the fittest are not surviving. Those who once stood strong are now breaking quietly. Those who once helped others are now unable to help themselves. This is a Krismes where strength no longer guarantees safety.
There is no light, literal or symbolic. Darkness has become normal. Darkness in homes. Darkness in streets. Darkness in hearts. A nation without light cannot see a future. A people without light cannot imagine tomorrow. Pan Lamp Krismes is not only about electricity. It is about direction. It is about the absence of signs that things will get better. When people cannot see forward, they begin to retreat inward. That is when despair becomes dangerous.
Even those who once represented hope are now retreating. Today even ” Dem J C from America Don Begin Fo Runaway Go Back Na America”. The same people who once returned home during Christmas bearing gifts, laughter, and stories of a better life abroad are now hesitant, fearful, and uncertain. The joy they used to bring has been replaced by anxiety. Their visits were once symbolic reminders that survival was possible. Now even they are unsure.
They are not safe either. Mr Trump has given them an ultimatum, and Sierra Leoneans have been barred from traveling to the States due to the recklessness of the government to protect even those who are the anchor to ameliorate the lives of some family members in the country. These are not tourists. These are lifelines. These are the people who send school fees, medical money, rent, food, and hope across the Atlantic. When they are threatened, entire households tremble.
“Bo Dem Wan Wae Kin Bring Enjoyment Ehn Kin Spend Pa Wi Sef Don Begin Pack Dem Bag Even Befo Krismes”. The irony is painful. Those who should be bringing enjoyment are instead packing their bags in fear. Those who once planned celebrations are now calculating risks. The very people who once turned December into a season of relief are now focused on self preservation. Fear has replaced generosity. Uncertainty has replaced joy.
Even those from across the Atlantic, our J Cs, are scared for not to be locked out of America in the name of coming home to celebrate with family. Imagine the cruelty of that choice. To either abandon family during Christmas or risk losing everything you have worked for abroad. This is not a choice anyone should be forced to make. Yet this is the reality facing many Sierra Leoneans this season.
Meanwhile, the government officials, their families, friends, and cronies care less about the hoot or the dead rat. As long as they can run to their overseas abode without hindrances, they are fine. Their Christmas is insulated. Their joy is protected. Their celebrations are uninterrupted. They move freely across borders while ordinary citizens are trapped within collapsing systems. This separation between rulers and the ruled has never been more visible.
“Well E Tan Lek Dem JC from KALANGBA na Dem Get Dem Gyal Dem Dis Year O”. The statement is half laughter, half pain. Christmas joy has become selective. It belongs to a small group insulated by privilege, access, and escape routes. For the rest, Christmas is merely a date on the calendar, not a feeling in the heart.
Pan Lamp Krismes is the sound of children asking questions their parents cannot answer. It is the silence of parents pretending everything is fine while panic churns inside them. It is the embarrassment of not being able to buy new clothes, cook a decent meal, or host family. It is the quiet shame of explaining why traditions can no longer be honoured.
Markets are full but pockets are empty. Music plays but spirits are low. Decorations exist but meaning is absent. This Christmas, many Sierra Leoneans are not celebrating. They are surviving quietly. They are hoping no one knocks on their door asking for help they cannot provide. They are hoping illness stays away because treatment is unaffordable. They are hoping January does not arrive too quickly because December itself is already unbearable.
A society cannot endure endless Pan Lamp Krismes without consequences. When hope disappears, crime increases. When dignity collapses, morality weakens. When people feel abandoned, they stop believing in systems, leaders, and even one another. This is the danger of Christmas without hope. It poisons the future while pretending to celebrate the present.
Yet even in this darkness, Sierra Leoneans continue to display resilience that borders on miracle. They share what little they have. They laugh despite pain. They pray despite disappointment. They endure despite neglect. This resilience should never be mistaken for acceptance. Survival is not endorsement. Endurance is not consent.
Pan Lamp Krismes should disturb the conscience of anyone who still feels. A nation where Christmas becomes a season of fear has lost something sacred. A people who cannot dream during the season of dreams have been pushed too far. This moment demands reflection, not denial. It demands empathy, not propaganda. It demands responsibility, not excuses.
Anyway, I am your brother Alpha Amadu Jalloh. In spite of everything, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy and Prosperous New Year. I love you all.
Happy Krismes Wi Nor Die O, Wi Tell God Tenki Fo Wi Life.
