By Alpha Amadu Jalloh.
Mr. President, may I have your ears for just a few minutes? Please, don’t glance at your phone. Don’t delegate this conversation to one of your aides or speechwriters. This one’s for you. Man to man. Citizen to President. For once, let’s drop the slogans, the polished statements, and the smiling PR campaigns. Let’s speak plainly, because what is happening under your leadership, specifically with your Anti-Corruption Commissioner, Mr. Francis Ben Kaifala, is an insult to the very soul of our nation.
Mr. President, where was Mr. Kaifala when the storm clouds began to gather around Koidu Holdings? Where was the Anti-Corruption Commission when red flags were flying and citizens were raising concerns about the exploitation of our diamond wealth, the poor treatment of workers, the displacement of communities, and the lack of transparency in the company’s operations?
We didn’t hear a single thing from Mr. Kaifala. Not a whisper. Not even the usual press conferences where he theatrically announces investigations before they even begin. The commission that often prides itself on preemptive theatrics suddenly went on mute.
And now, suddenly, after Koidu Holdings threatens to sue your wife, the First Lady, we see the Anti-Corruption Commission spring into action? Mr. Kaifala miraculously finds his voice and issues a press release, hurriedly confirming that there had, in fact, been an investigation into Koidu Holdings all along.
Why now? Why only after the First Lady found herself in the crosshairs of a lawsuit? Why not six months ago? A year ago? Why was the public not informed when these investigations were supposedly underway? Why weren’t journalists, civil society, and Parliament updated?
You see, Mr. President, this is the problem. This is why so many Sierra Leoneans no longer believe in your “New Direction” and even less in your so-called fight against corruption. Because it’s becoming clear that the Anti-Corruption Commission is not a national institution anymore, it’s a family protection service.
Let’s be frank: When Mr. Kaifala was pursuing opposition figures, he did so with the speed of a lion and the theatrics of a stage performer. When it was about APC officials or disloyal SLPP members, the commission worked overtime. Press statements were flying. Arrests were made before investigations began. Headlines were crafted. Perp walks were publicized.
But when it’s someone close to you, Mr. President, your ministerial allies, your business cronies, or your family, the commission suddenly becomes cautious, methodical, and slow. Almost too slow, as if hoping the issue would simply vanish from public memory.
So, let me ask again: Why did the public only hear about the investigation into Koidu Holdings after the company threatened legal action against the First Lady?
It reeks of panic. It reeks of a cover-up. It reeks of damage control, not integrity.
Mr. President, it sends a dangerous message to the people of Sierra Leone and to the world: that justice in this country is not blind. Instead, it wears green SLPP colours and looks the other way when those close to power are involved.
And I fear this message is being heard loud and clear. Sierra Leoneans are not fools. We may be patient. We may be tired. But we are not blind. We see how the Anti-Corruption Commission is now being used as a shield and a sword, defending your allies while attacking your enemies.
When did we decide, Mr. President, that the Commission should no longer serve the people but serve you?
Do you remember the promises you made in 2018 when you took office? About accountability, transparency, and restoring trust in public institutions? At that time, we had hope. We wanted to believe that this young lawyer, Francis Kaifala, would rise above politics. That he would go after everyone, regardless of tribe, party, or connections.
But what has he become now? A man who throws a lavish wedding in the middle of national hardship. A man who smiles for cameras and quotes the constitution but hides from the public when real power is challenged.
What was he doing when people were being exploited in Kono? Why didn’t he speak up? Why did he stay silent as foreign companies played games with our wealth, displaced our people, and polluted our lands?
Was he afraid to act because the First Lady was involved? Or was he simply waiting for the green light from above?
And you, Mr. President, what are you telling us when you allow this? That the Anti-Corruption Commission is no longer independent? That it is a personal tool, just like so many other institutions you have captured?
Are you telling us that the commission only acts when it suits you politically? That it only barks when your enemies are within earshot but rolls over when your allies are questioned?
Are we to understand now that justice in Sierra Leone wears a selective uniform?
Mr. President, this isn’t just about Francis Kaifala. This is about your legacy. This is about the soul of our republic. You have presided over a nation rich in resources but poor in justice. And the institutions that were supposed to protect the people from abuse, whether by foreign companies, rogue ministers, or even first ladies, are now seen as lapdogs, not watchdogs.
Let me tell you what the people are saying in the ghettos, in the markets, and in the backseats of poda-podas.
“Corruption nor dae foh dem people dem.” “ACC only dae foh poor man and opposition.” “Na President and e family the institution dae protect.”
Is this the Sierra Leone you envisioned, Mr. President?
A country where the rich and powerful play above the law, while the poor are dragged through it? A nation where a First Lady can accuse a company of corruption on Facebook, and only then does the commission remember it has a job to do?
What message are you sending to international investors? That business is subject not to law but to political whims and domestic feuds. What are you telling our youth, that if they want justice, they must first get a cousin in the State House?
You are weakening the very institutions you once promised to strengthen. You are eroding public trust in justice. You are turning the Anti-Corruption Commission into a joke.
And Mr. President, jokes like this have consequences.
Because if the people begin to believe that there is no justice for them, they will begin to seek justice their own way. And when that day comes, no commission, no press statement, and no armed convoy will save you from the wrath of a betrayed nation.
So, I am begging you: Let Mr. Kaifala go.
Not because he married big. Not because he smiles too much. But because he has failed institutionally. Because he has proven that he does not serve the people, he serves you.
And while you may not want to hear this today, I promise you: History will not be kind to leaders who undermined their own institutions for short-term protection.
Give the ACC back to the people. Make it independent again. Let it investigate everyone: your ministers, your wife, your friends, and your enemies. Let justice be equal and blind, not partisan and selective.
Because, Mr. President, in the end, it’s not your speeches or your slogans that we will remember. It’s your silence when truth is gasping for air. It’s your complicity when corruption stands tall in public office. And it’s your failure to act when our institutions cried out for independence.
Can we still talk, Mr. President?
The clock is ticking.
