From Kailahun to Mafanta Prison… Dauda Sandi’s Political Baptism

The greatest change to societies right across the globe came at the close of the 19th century. Before this period, several attempts were made to abolish slavery, but it was finally abolished across the British Empire in 1807.  This profound transformation emerged from the confluence of idealism and opportunity. For Sierra Leone, this moment arrived at the close of the 18th century, propelled by the movement to abolish the transatlantic slave trade. Following the Abolition Act of 1807 by the British Parliament, the question of repatriating freed Africans gained urgency. The search for a settlement led the British, then the world’s preeminent naval power, to the West coast of Africa.

This effect was realised in more ways than humanity came to appreciate. Before this, there were established trade routes between the west coast of Africa and many European cities, with traders visiting the coastal regions primarily for slaves, Ivory, gold, palm oil, timber and other precious minerals. Capturing lands on the coast from other European traders has been developed in the Asian sub-continent, primarily in India, where the British kicked out others to get a strong foot/grip on the continent to protect British interests. This venture was to be perfected in Africa to create the environment for the new settlement of the freed Africans, who were to be shipped to Africa. The first place in the thought on the west coast of Africa was a trade post, long established by the Portuguese, referred to as Sierra Leone. Over the years, news had gone out to the Europeans who traded along the coast that the inhabitants along that coast were very hospitable to Europeans. Unlike other trading posts, which proved hostile, these inhabitants were less hostile, had clean drinking water, and had lots of food that was appealing to Europeans.

Overreaching the Portuguese settlers, the British quickly established relationship with the locals and signed treaties with the local chiefs, securing a tract of land at a site long used as a trade by the Portuguese, and named it Freetown. It was established as a haven for formerly enslaved peoples everywhere, a place where any who set foot were declared free. This colony became the cornerstone for a unique social experiment, attracting skilled returnees from England and Nova Scotia, who brought with them the tools to build a new and formidable society.  The way was now created for the shipment of the new settlers, these men and women came with a lot of skills, enough to set up the first settlements for Africans run by Africans. Before this, it was a position only enjoyed by Ethiopia and Liberia.

Despite significant challenges, the new settlers forged ahead with ambitious developments. Their most notable achievement was the establishment of Fourah Bay College in 1827, the first institution of higher learning in sub-Saharan Africa, modelled on Western academia. It quickly gained renown for academic standing, attracting students from across the continent and bringing immense prestige to the colony. However, this progress was not without friction. Indigenous chiefs, particularly those from the Mende heartland, viewed the new Western-style institutions with deep suspicion. Their apprehension was rooted in a painful history of broken trust, where previous encounters with Europeans had led to children being taken and never returned.

The same group, now positioning itself as apostles of godliness and education, was asking for a new generation of children, stirring understandable unease. After much deliberation and consultation, a strategic decision was made to engage with this new system. Chiefs began sending their sons to institutions like the Bo School and Central School Bunumbu—a boarding school that later became a teacher training college—to be educated in the ways of the new world. Those with the means even sent their sons to England. Dauda Sandi was one of the fortunate few to be included in this pivotal generation, supported by his father to navigate the confluence of two worlds. In England, he gained entrance to Imperial College, London, and graduated with a BA Hons in Education in the mid to late 1960s and went back to Sierra Leone.

Dauda started work as a lecturer, working under the then Principal, Dr. Maturi, in what was then known as “Union College”, which later became Njala University. With them were others who finished their studies and returned; among them were young C. P. Foray, who later became Principal of Fourah Bay College. Saffa Sandi, who was later dean of Students at Njala University.  His first students were, Mr. Moi Vamba Konneh, who later became Principal of the Islamic Secondary School in Kenema, and his very good friend, Mr. Domanic Ngombu, to mention a few. This friendship grew to last throughout their lives.

Union College, as it was then known, was established under the leadership of the Magai brothers, to serve as a counterweight to the Krio-dominated Fourah Bay College in Freetown. Its early days were soon marred by a horrific scandal. A young doctor employed by the college to render medical attention to student and the population, performed an abortion on a student that resulted in her death from excessive bleeding.

This incident, the first recorded killing on a university campus in Sierra Leone, threatened the very existence of the fledgling institution.

Meanwhile, Dr. Maturi was determined to avoid media attention. He understood that wider exposure would have provided ample ammunition for the lecturers at the prestigious Fourah Bay College. Given the robust and resourceful nature of the Freetown press, which would have eagerly descended upon the upstarting Union College, the institution would have struggled to survive the fallout from such a gross negligence scandal.

The 1972 era was defined by a politics of strength and intimidation, a style Siaka Stevens embodied. Shortly after the election in 1967, truckloads of APC vigilantes were dispatched to the east, ostensibly to “teach them a lesson.” The fate of these men remains one of the nation’s most enduring and troubling mysteries; they vanished without a trace; an event forever seared into the psyche of the political elite. This ominous period became etched in memory by the chilling Mende phrase, “ti wai loh khe ti yaah”— meaning “they came, but they have gone.” Despite all investigative efforts, the vigilantes vanished without a trace, a mystery that remains unsolved and a campaign the APC never forgot.

The regime’s previous incursion to subdue the Mende stronghold in the South-East had failed, making this election a pivotal test of power. Wielding the full machinery of the state, the APC deployed thugs disguised in police uniforms to intimidate opposition candidates in the East, the very region where the 1968 atrocity had occurred. The eastern candidates of the SLPP were led into this fraught contest by T. H. Bona, a prominent lawyer from Kono.

For the young Dauda Sandi, this election was his first direct encounter with Parliamentary politics, an experience that proved to be brutally instructive. The Sierra Leone People’s Party (SLPP) was already at a severe disadvantage, fielding too few candidates, as the APC’s recruitment drive had successfully co-opted many of their members. Furthermore, most of the chiefs in the Eastern and Southern provinces, motivated either by fear of being dethroned or by direct persuasion, pledged their support to the ruling party. This consolidation of traditional authority proved decisive, ensuring the APC’s strategy paid off.

Those days, the electoral process began with a nomination exercise, where a candidate, accompanied by a few constituents, would formally declare their intention to run at a designated constituency. For the constituency of the then Kailahun South, this venue was the district headquarters in Kailahun town. However, the event was a trap. Thugs, disguised in police uniforms, ostensibly there to provide security, instead violently turned on the opposition candidates, forcing them to flee for their lives.

Dauda Sandi and Moinina Conteh found refuge with Lamin Ngobeh, the candidate for the SLPP Kailahun Central. Once the immediate danger had subsided, they left his protection to return to their constituencies. Their journey was cut short by a radio announcement declaring that APC candidates in their constituencies had been elected unopposed. Also in their vehicle was Kandeh Bureh, who had been sent by the party to oversee the nominations in Kailahun. A similar fate had befallen the SLPP in Kono, where T. H. Bona, who was chairman for the candidates in the east, had stayed to oversee a process that ended with all their seats going uncontested by the opposition. This systematic disenfranchisement through intimidation was the precise “modus Operandi” of the APC in the 1972 General Elections.

Seeking counsel and safety, Dauda and the others stopped in Pendembu to brief Paramount Chief Mohamed Jajua Kutubu on the events and to glean information on the road ahead. Understanding the grave risk his guests posed to his own position, the chief could not offer prolonged sanctuary. Knowing that their presence endangered him, the men quickly departed, continuing their perilous journey toward Mobai.

Just minutes after leaving Pendembu, Dauda Sandi, Moinina Conteh and the party’s official election observer, Kandeh Bureh, encountered a young man blocking the road. Dressed in full red regalia, he shouted APC, and waved his arms, demanding the vehicle to stop. They had already been warned that an ambush lay ahead on the road to Mobai. The driver, Joe Kebbie—a loyal driver from Dauda’s days in the Forest Industry – faced an impossible choice: stop and risk everyone’s death, or proceed and likely kill the man. Forced into a split-second decision, they chose to accelerate for their own safety.

Dauda’s Mercedes-Benz (license plate C7456) struck the man who was later named Sennah. They would later learn that armed assailants had been hiding in the bushes nearby, confirming their fears of a deadly trap. Before they could even reach Kenema, news spread that the young man had died. Understanding the gravity of the situation, Dauda instructed Kandeh Bureh to travel immediately to Freetown to inform SLPP leader, Salia Jusu Sheriff, and Chief Yumkella, who was the Chairman of the party. Dauda himself, demonstrating profound moral courage, took the wheel and drove to the Kenema police station and reported the incident. He was accompanied by fellow SLPP candidate, Moinina Conteh from Daru, who insisted on joining him, rightly fearing for Dauda’s safety if he went alone.

Their attempt to report the crime was met with brutal state repression. Instead of justice, both men were arrested, beaten nearly to death, and held in custody. When their injuries and health severely deteriorated, they were transferred to the Kenema government hospital under heavy guard and in handcuffs – a grim irony that suggested the regime retained a sliver of civility, however perverse, by not letting them die in a cell. From that incident, Dauda lost the use of his right ear forever. Upon relative recovery, they were moved to Mafanta prison.

There, Dauda was finally reunited with the chairman of the SLPP, Chief Yumkella, who had also been arrested months ahead of the elections, thus allowing Dauda to deliver his message in the most dismal of circumstances. They all remained imprisoned without trial for one year and eight months before being released. This brutal chapter was Dauda Sandi’s first, searing introduction to Parliamentary politics in Sierra Leone – an experience that would shape his understanding of power and justice for years to come.

This chapter of Dauda Sandi’s life – and of Sierra Leone’s history – was only the beginning. The next election, in 1977, would bring even greater challenges, betrayals, and hard choices. The story of Sierra Leone is not just about colonial treaties or the founding of Freetown – it is also about the resilience of women and men like Dauda, who lived through the violence, the hope, and the struggle to shape their country’s destiny.

To be continued…