Political Betrayal Rocks Sierra Leone

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh

Author, Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance Sierra Leone, our beloved homeland, is bleeding—not just from poverty, corruption, and mismanagement, but from a deeper wound: the betrayal of its people by a political and economic elite that has held the nation hostage for decades. But a shift is underway. A new breed of Sierra Leoneans is rising. Across living rooms and market stalls, in WhatsApp groups and diaspora forums, under mango trees and on street corners, a quiet revolution is stirring. Sierra Leoneans who truly care is whispering, “Leh Wi Geda Na Ya.” It’s not a slogan. It’s a cry from the soul—a declaration that the 85 percent, the true owners of Sierra Leone, are awake. For too long, we lost hope. We believed Sierra Leone was beyond saving—trapped in a system where thieves are rewarded, the honest are punished, and power is passed like an inheritance among the same greedy faces. Political dynasties, corrupt cliques, and the well-connected three percent convinced us they were all that mattered. But we are more. We are louder. We are the New Breed. In my book Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance, I argue that only twelve percent of society are true hypocrites and manipulators. They may dominate the media, institutions, and the streets—but they are not the majority. The dreamers, the builders, the patriots—those who want a better life for their children—are the silent 85 percent. How long will we endure this humiliation in our own land? How long will we be second-class citizens in a system we never chose and no longer accept? This is not just about politics. This is about dignity, identity, and love for Sierra Leone. Our rivers, hills, forests, and soil cry out for justice. We owe it not just to ourselves and our children, but to the very land that bore us. Today, Sierra Leone makes international headlines for all the wrong reasons—Ebola, COVID-19, mudslides, hunger, corruption. While the world looks on in pity, our leaders collect fake awards and take luxurious trips abroad, pretending to be saviors while the people suffer. We have a judiciary that serves the powerful, a Parliament that echoes the Executive, a civil service driven by tribal loyalty over merit, and a health system that can’t provide even basic medicine. Our private sector is strangled by nepotism. Our traditional leaders often dance to political tunes. Much of our media has been bought. Is this a nation—or a criminal enterprise? Survival today is reduced to the infamous mantra: cut ya, put ya—a patchwork of favors, lies, bribery, and betrayal. Even good deeds are tainted; someone always has to fall for another to rise. This is not how a nation should function. This is not how a family treats its own. And yet we call ourselves brothers and sisters. Salone na wi yone. But is this what family looks like? No. The time has come for a new kind of Sierra Leonean—The New Breed. We are the ones who speak truth, even when it hurts—regardless of tribe, party, or personal gain. We value merit over mediocrity, service over sycophancy, discipline over disorder. We no longer clap for thieves who build one borehole. We want systems, not favors. Institutions, not strongmen. The New Breed places country above party. We kneel only for truth and justice. We want journalism that reports facts, not fiction. We want leaders who build schools, not palaces; roads, not praise songs. We demand real accountability—where even the President can be questioned. We don’t believe in waiting for foreign donors. We are the solution we’ve been waiting for. We’re ready to invest our ideas, time, resources, and energy to rebuild Sierra Leone—brick by brick, value by value. It won’t be easy. Speaking the truth is dangerous. Opposing corruption is risky. Denouncing tribalism brings isolation. Demanding justice makes you a target. But we will not stop. We’re done living on our knees. Sierra Leone cannot breathe under this system of selfishness and lies. But it can rise. It must rise. And it will rise.

This is a call—not to arms—but to hearts.

To the teacher molding minds without pay.

To the nurse showing compassion without gloves.

To the youth refusing to be used as a thug.

To the mother hustling with honesty.

To the journalist who still tells the truth.

To the diaspora Sierra Leonean who still sends remittances home.

To the student daring to dream in darkness—

You are the New Breed. You are the hope. You are the future.

Let us stop asking, “Who will save Sierra Leone?”

Let us ask, “Are we ready to save ourselves?”

Let us build not just a new government, but a new mindset, a new morality, a new Sierra Leone—where honesty is not foolish, where doing right is no longer rare, where being Sierra Leonean is a badge of honor, not a burden. The old way has failed. The old faces have failed. The old thinking has failed. It’s time to make history.