By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Mr. President, I am here again to bring news from the people of Kenema after you so shamefully neglected and abandoned them. Mr. President, do you fully grasp the consequences of what you have done to the people of Kenema? Do you understand how this betrayal will impact your political party, the SLPP, a party that once prided itself on being a voice for the oppressed, a party that Kenema has stood by through thick and thin?
Mr. President, as a Sierra Leonean and as someone who loves this country, I must tell you that your actions have deeply wounded the people of Kenema. And I wonder, is it because you are afraid to face them? Or is it because you have nothing meaningful to say? This is a bitter truth that we all see. How is it that you have so much to say on your endless international travels, where you spend millions of dollars of our taxpayer money, yet you cannot summon the courage to travel just a few hours from Freetown to Kenema? You cannot find the will to burn a few litres of petrol to go and meet the very people who believed in you, who stood by you, who gave you their trust and their votes.
Mr. President, let us be clear. Kenema was once a bastion of the SLPP. Its people gave you their unwavering support. And what have you given them in return? Silence, absence, betrayal. They waited for you. They hoped you would come, listen to their cries, and see their plight. But no, Mr. President. You chose instead to hide behind the walls of State House and the camera lenses of foreign journalists, speaking to audiences thousands of miles away while ignoring those who suffer under your rule right here at home.
And that brings me to another question. Who are your advisers? Who are these men and women who collect fat salaries from our consolidated fund, paid from the sweat of the ordinary Sierra Leonean, yet cannot speak truth to you? Or perhaps, Mr. President, the problem is not them but you. Perhaps they know the truth, but you will not listen. Perhaps in your government no one dares speak their mind anymore. Every minister, every adviser, every so-called expert has learned that to keep their position, they must suspend their own wisdom and adopt yours, no matter how flawed.
Mr. President, let me be frank. Your so-called wisdom has failed this nation. It has failed Kenema. It has failed our children, our youth, our farmers, our traders, our teachers, and our nurses. It has failed the very people who placed their hopes in you. And today I say this with no malice but with painful honesty. You are a fool who lacks the wisdom worthy of the leadership of our country.
Yes, I said it. Because sometimes the truth must be said even if it stings. What kind of leader abandons his people in their hour of need? What kind of leader prefers the applause of foreign dignitaries to the cries of his own citizens? What kind of leader speaks endlessly about democracy and good governance at international conferences but silences dissent and destroys trust at home?
Mr. President, the people of Kenema feel betrayed. They feel used. They feel abandoned by a man they once called their own. The roads are crumbling. The hospitals lack basic supplies. The schools are in shambles. The youth are unemployed, desperate, and vulnerable to drugs like Kush that are destroying an entire generation. And you, Mr. President, chose to stay away rather than face these realities.
Do you think the people do not see through the charade? Do you think they will forever believe the lies fed to them by your information ministry or your party’s propaganda machine? Let me assure you, Mr. President. The people are awake. The people are watching. And come the next election, the people will remember.
What is even more tragic is that you have squandered an opportunity. You could have been a hero to Kenema and to Sierra Leone. You could have been the president who stood with his people, who listened to their struggles, who worked side by side with them to build a better future. But instead you have chosen the path of arrogance, of isolation, of empty speeches and broken promises.
Mr. President, you speak of transformation, of progress, of a new direction. But where is that new direction for Kenema? Where is the progress for Bo, for Kono, for Kabala, for the entire nation? All we see are inflated contracts, unfulfilled promises, and a government more interested in self-preservation than service.
Let me remind you, Mr. President. Power is fleeting. The cheers you seek abroad will not save you when your people turn their backs. The international community you court so desperately will not shield you from the judgment of history. And history will judge you, Mr. President. It will judge you not by the speeches you gave at summits but by what you did or failed to do for the people who placed you in that high office.
Mr. President, it is not too late to change course. But it requires humility, courage, and honesty. These are qualities that seem to have been lost somewhere along your journey. It requires you to stop and listen. To leave the comfort of State House and walk among the people. To face their anger, their pain, their disappointment. And most importantly, to act. Not with more promises, not with more lies, but with real and tangible change.
The people of Kenema are waiting, Mr. President. Sierra Leone is waiting. And so am I.
