By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Sierra Leone has become a theatre of illusions, a country where people dance barefoot on a rock and still blame others for raising dust. The tragedy of our collective consciousness is not only in our poverty but in the way we celebrate it. We have reached a point where mediocrity is crowned as achievement and failure is paraded as progress. The very people who should demand better from their leaders now clap their hands for crumbs, singing praises for those who have turned their suffering into political trophies.
It is no longer about transformation but survival. We are living in a society that confuses movement with progress, and any attempt to question this deceit is met with the accusation of disloyalty or hate. The truth, however bitter, remains that we have normalized deception to such an extent that it has become our national anthem.
“When a nation’s hospitals become museums of neglect, and its leaders call that progress, it means health is no longer a right, it has become a privilege for the powerful.”
Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance
Nothing captures the absurdity of Sierra Leone’s decay better than the recent spectacle of people celebrating the completion of a block in a seventy-year-old hospital. A block, just a block, was unveiled like a divine miracle with music, dancing, and speeches of “great achievements.” In a nation where the health system bleeds from negligence, where pregnant women die daily from preventable complications, this kind of celebration is not only tragic but insulting to human intelligence.
What should have been a routine maintenance project is now a symbol of national pride. The leaders stand proudly beside dilapidated walls, smiling for cameras, as if they have built an entirely new hospital. The people, unaware or unwilling to see the mockery, cheer them on. They dance on the rock and still wonder why there is dust in their eyes. Compare this to nations like Rwanda, Ghana, and Botswana, countries building modern medical facilities equipped with advanced technology, training doctors, and integrating healthcare systems with innovation. Sierra Leone, on the other hand, celebrates the opening of a ward painted with fresh paint and a plastic ribbon tied across its entrance. What a tragedy of perception.
We have reduced progress to performance. Even poverty has become an event. And the saddest part? The people are no longer embarrassed by it, they are entertained.
“In the mines of Kono, wealth sleeps beneath the feet of hungry men. They dig for others, die for others, and clap for those who enslave them with promises of development that never come.”
Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance
In Kono, the land of diamonds and unfulfilled dreams, the irony deepens. The people who should be roaring against exploitation are dancing in praise of those who impoverish them. They celebrated a woman who, through her influence, helped destroy the very source of livelihood that sustained thousands of families. Over a thousand jobs vanished, yet there was no outrage, only jubilation.
The miners, traders, and mothers who once thrived on the economy of that region now queue for survival, depending on handouts from the same politicians who robbed them of opportunity. They celebrate oppression in the name of loyalty, chant slogans for their exploiters, and shame anyone who dares to question the madness. How can a people dance when their fields are barren, when their children are unemployed, and when their resources are auctioned to foreign interests? It is as though the collective conscience of Kono has been buried under its own diamonds. The very soil that should make them rich has been turned into a grave of ambition. And yet, they celebrate. They celebrate as though joy itself is rebellion against truth.
It would be laughable if it were not so tragic. The First Lady of Sierra Leone, Fatima Bio, has built her brand on contradictions. She is a woman who claims to be the champion of Sierra Leonean women, yet cannot tell a consistent story of her own origins. In videos circulating online, she declared being born in The Gambia, but when political theatre demanded it, she stood before an audience of Sierra Leoneans and proclaimed that she was born in that same hospital block now paraded as a national treasure.
The deceit is not only insulting, it is dangerous. It shows how truth has become optional in Sierra Leone’s leadership. We now live in a country where lies are fashionable and where citizens reward deceit with applause. The tragedy is not just Fatima’s dishonesty, it is that the people no longer care. They have been hypnotized into believing that truth is an inconvenience. Her “Hands Off Our Girls” campaign was launched with glamour and hashtags, yet the reality remains unchanged. Girls are still victims of abuse, teenage pregnancy continues to rise, and the hospitals meant to serve them are in ruins. But none of that matters, because the performance continues, the cameras roll, and the people dance on the rock.
Sierra Leone’s biggest problem is not poverty, it is the poverty of thinking. We are a people trapped in cycles of celebration over nothing. Every ribbon cut, every light bulb replaced, every pothole patched becomes a national event. Ministers attend ceremonies to commission boreholes as if they have discovered oil. Parliamentarians tweet about school renovations like they have built universities. Meanwhile, our youths drown in despair. The jobless graduates, the frustrated traders, the street hawkers, all victims of a government that measures success in selfies and speeches. Yet these same citizens are the ones defending failure online, attacking anyone who dares to ask questions.
Political stagnation has become a virtue. Greed and corruption are rewarded. The system thrives on ignorance, and the people willingly participate. The elites feed on the gullibility of the masses while pretending to be their saviors. Every administration blames the one before it, while repeating the same sins. The roads remain broken, hospitals decayed, schools underfunded, and electricity is a myth. But the leaders keep dancing, smiling for the world, pretending to lead a nation on the rise.
When a nation celebrates dust, it becomes blind to progress. Sierra Leone is that nation. We celebrate every illusion as victory because we have been trained to expect nothing better. Leadership has convinced the people that crumbs are banquets, and mediocrity is excellence. When a politician donates a motorbike, he is hailed as a hero. When a minister attends a funeral, he is praised as compassionate. When a hospital block is painted, it becomes a “historic project.” This culture of smallness is why the country remains trapped in perpetual underdevelopment.
We do not question why the hospital lacks medicines. We do not ask why electricity flickers out every night. We do not hold anyone accountable for the millions wasted on white elephant projects. Instead, we wear party colors, dance to music, and call it development. And what about the so-called “international airport”? We celebrate a glorified bus stop, a tiny structure that in other countries would not even qualify as a regional terminal. Compare it to the Blaise Diagne International Airport in Dakar, Senegal, an architectural marvel equipped with modern facilities and technological sophistication. Yet our leaders call Lungi International Airport a “world-class” achievement. Travelers are ripped off daily by corrupt officials, service is poor, and infrastructure remains embarrassing, yet we celebrate it. Podooor, Salone Pipul Go See Dem Yon!
“Development in Sierra Leone is a stage play written by the elite, acted by the poor, and applauded by the ignorant. Until the script changes, the actors will keep dying while the directors grow richer.”
Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance
Once upon a time, shame guided the conscience of leadership. Today, shamelessness is the new honor. The leaders boast of achievements that should have been their duties. They make grand speeches about roads that were repaired after years of neglect or about buildings that will crumble within months of commissioning. Sierra Leone’s leaders do not fear failure; they fear silence. As long as there is a crowd to clap, they feel validated. And the people, conditioned by hardship, have forgotten that dignity is greater than desperation. We have replaced accountability with admiration. We no longer demand integrity, only entertainment.
To dance on a rock is to celebrate where one should reflect. To raise dust on a rock is to chase illusions. This is Sierra Leone today, a people caught in a tragic waltz with their own suffering. They dance because silence feels heavier. They clap because crying seems useless. They laugh at their own pain because hope has become a luxury. But someday, the music will stop. The dust will settle. And the rock, cold, unyielding, unforgiving, will still be there, as a reminder of the truth we refused to face.
Sierra Leone does not lack intelligence or talent; it lacks consciousness. The people have become spectators in their own misery. Until they stop celebrating their captors and start questioning them, the dance will continue, and the dust will rise. Our nation must learn to mourn its failures instead of dancing to them. We must demand more than painted walls and political selfies. We must remember that hospitals are meant to heal, not host parties, that leaders are meant to serve, not perform.
Until that day comes, Sierra Leone will remain what it has become, a country dancing on a rock, blind to the dust it raises.
