Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh

Author, Monopoly of Happiness; Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance

Sierra Leone, our beloved land, is bleeding, not just from poverty, corruption, and mismanagement, but from a deeper wound: the betrayal of its people by a political and economic minority that has held the nation hostage for decades. But the tide is shifting. A new breed of Sierra Leoneans is rising. Across living rooms, in market stalls, within WhatsApp groups, on street corners, in diaspora forums, and under mango trees, Sierra Leoneans who mean well for their people are whispering, “Leh Wi Geda Na Ya.” It’s not a slogan. It’s a cry from the soul of a people rediscovering their power. It’s not a call to arms for those tired of being lied to, manipulated, and silenced. It’s a declaration that we, the 85 percent, the true owners of Sierra Leone, are awake. For too long, we thought it was over. We gave up on hope. We believed Sierra Leone was irredeemable, choked by a system that rewards thieves and punishes the honest, where loyalty to corruption is more valued than competence, where the same recycled faces pass power from one greedy hand to another like an inheritance. Political dynasties, corrupt cliques, and the well-connected three percent have convinced us that they are the only ones who matter. 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 our society are fools and hypocrites. Yes, they are loud. Yes, they control the media, the institutions, the streets, and the narrative. But they are not the majority. We the dreamers, the builders, the patriots, the ordinary men and women who want a better future for their children are the silent eighty five percent. How long will we continue to be insulted, abused, and provoked in our own country? How long will we allow ourselves to be labeled second-class citizens by a system we did not create, and one we no longer want? This is not just about politics. It is about dignity. It is about identity. It is about love for our country. Sierra Leone is the land of our ancestors. Its rivers, its hills, its forests, and its soil cry out for justice. We have a sacred obligation not just to ourselves, not just to our children, but to the very land that bore us. Today, our country is on the news for all the wrong reasons. Ebola. COVID-19. Mudslides. Floods. Hunger. Starvation. Corruption. Misrule. The world looks at us with pity, while our leaders bask in fake awards and luxurious trips abroad, parading themselves like saviors while the people perish. We have a judiciary that serves the powerful. A Parliament that echoes only what the Executive wants to hear. A civil service that rewards laziness and tribal loyalty over merit. A health sector that cannot even provide Panadol, let alone perform surgeries. A private sector strangled by bribery and nepotism. Traditional leaders that dance to political tunes. A media that is too often bought and paid for. Is this a nation or a criminal enterprise? Survival in Sierra Leone today is defined by the infamous mantra: cut ya, put ya, a desperate patchwork of lies, favors, bribery, and betrayal. Even when good is done, it is laced with an evil twist, someone must be cheated, someone must cry, someone must fall for another to rise. This is not the way a nation rises. This is not the way a family treats one another. And yet, we call ourselves brothers and sisters. Family. Salone na wi yone. But is this what family looks like? Is this how family behaves? No. The time has come for a new kind of Sierra Leonean, The New Breed. We are the ones who say the truth even when it hurts. Even when it goes against our tribe, our party, our friend, or our interest. We believe in merit, not mediocrity. In service, not sycophancy. In discipline, not disorder. We are the ones who no longer applaud thieves because they ‘helped our people’ or ‘built one borehole.’ We want systems, not favors. Institutions, not strongmen. The New Breed is a people with love for country over love for party. We don’t bow to political gods. We kneel only for truth and justice. We want journalists who report the truth, not those who auction it to the highest bidder. We want leaders who build schools, not palaces. Roads, not praise songs. We want accountability, real accountability, where even the President can be questioned without fear. The New Breed doesn’t believe in waiting for foreign donors or international saviors. We are the solution we’ve been waiting for. We are ready to invest our ideas, our time, our resources, our energy into rebuilding Sierra Leone, brick by brick, value by value. It won’t be easy. Speaking the truth in Sierra Leone is dangerous. Standing against corruption is risky. Saying no to tribalism will isolate you. Demanding justice will make you a target. But we will not stop. We are tired of living on our knees. Sierra Leone cannot breathe under this system of selfishness, lies, and brutal incompetence. But it can rise. It must rise. And it will rise. This is a call, not to arms, but to hearts. Every teacher still molding minds despite not being paid. To every nurse treating patients with compassion even with no gloves. To every youth refusing to be used as a political thug. To every mother hustling to feed her children honestly. To every journalist who still holds the line. To every diaspora Sierra Leonean still sending remittances home. To every student daring to dream in the dark. You are the New Breed. You are the hope. You are the future. Let us no longer ask, “Who will save Sierra Leone?” Let us ask instead, “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 being honest is no longer foolish. Where doing right is not rare. Where being Sierra Leonean is not a burden, but a badge of honor. The old way has failed. The old faces have failed. The old thinking has failed. It’s time to make history.