Free But A Prisoner In The Open!

 

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh

The ordinary Sierra Leonean walks the streets freely, yet remains a prisoner in the open. Not behind iron bars, not locked in a police cell, not convicted by any court of law, but charged, tried, and condemned daily by the consequences of crimes he himself committed in the ballot box, on the streets, and in his tribal allegiance. He is sentenced not by a judge but by his own conscience and the harsh realities of the society he helped create.

│ “Freedom without responsibility is a cage with invisible bars; we may walk freely, yet remain prisoners of our own making.”

– From Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance

Sierra Leoneans are not imprisoned by the strength of politicians’ guns or soldiers’ boots. Rather, they are trapped by the invisible chains of blind loyalty, chains forged from tribe, party color, region, and the shallow comfort of saying, “At least he is my family, my tribesman, or from the same region.” These excuses, repeated every election cycle, have become the very bars that cage us as a people.

The Political Prison We Built

Our politicians are not supernatural beings; they rise only because ordinary Sierra Leoneans lift them to the podium. We vote for them not based on competence but because of surnames, accents, or colors they wear. We break friendships, cut off family members, and fight each other to defend these politicians, men and women who, once in power, abandon us for mansions, expensive cars, and trips abroad.

When the ordinary Sierra Leonean casts a vote for a man he knows is corrupt, simply because that man shares his tribe or region, he is complicit in the crimes that follow. Every stolen dollar, every collapsed school, every unpaved road, every unbuilt hospital is evidenced in the trial of his conscience. He is guilty, not because he stole the funds directly, but because he gave the thief the key.

│ “Leadership is not inherited from the soil you come from; it is earned through the actions you take for every citizen, not just those who share your tribe or party.”

– President Kabba

Guilty Without Realizing It

We curse the suffering around us, no jobs, no clean water, no electricity, but we forget that we ourselves created the conditions. How many times have we said, “I will vote for him because he is one of us,” without asking if he has the vision or ability to serve? How many times have we shouted down someone who dares to criticize our chosen leader? How many times have we celebrated appointments of incompetent people, smiling because at least “it is our turn” to eat?

These are crimes against our nation. They are not written in the law books of Sierra Leone, but they are engraved in the poverty of our children and in the tears of our mothers. They are visible in the young man who risks his life on a makeshift boat to Europe, in the young woman who sells her dignity for survival, in the father who cannot feed his family despite working from dawn to dusk.

│ “Our votes are not mere slips of paper,

they are the keys we hand to those who will decide our future, for better or for worse.”

– From Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance

The Prison of Fear and Silence

Ordinary Sierra Leoneans are also prisoners of silence. We see wrongdoing but refuse to speak because we fear losing favors. We see corruption but call it “smartness.” We see tribalism but disguise it as loyalty. We clap for politicians at rallies, dance for them at campaign grounds, and hail them with titles that they do not deserve, all the while knowing in our hearts that we are celebrating our own suffering.

The Price of Our Complicity

Today, Sierra Leone is rich in minerals yet poor in dignity. Our hospitals are empty of drugs, our schools are packed with untrained teachers, and our roads are littered with potholes that swallow lives. We complain loudly, but in truth, we are complaining against ourselves.

It is we, the ordinary Sierra Leoneans, who gave the thieves the chance. We gave them our votes, our silence, our loyalty, our excuses. We gave them legitimacy to rob us. And so, when the lights go out, when the prices rise, when the salaries disappear, we too are guilty. Guilty by association, guilty by action, guilty by omission.

│ “When a people tolerate incompetence because it is familiar, they sell themselves short. True freedom requires courage, honesty, and accountability.”

– President Kabba

Prisoners of Tribe and Region

Perhaps the deepest wound is tribalism. Sierra Leoneans have divided themselves into small cages, Temne cage, Mende cage, Limba cage, Fula cage, and so on. Inside these cages, we fight to prove who is superior, while outside, the world moves on. Our nation bleeds not because we lack resources, but because we cannot rise above tribe and region.

We say, “Better for my brother to steal than for another tribe to lead.” And so, the stealing continues, but the pain remains collective. A corrupt Mende politician does not only harm Temnes; he harms Mendes too. A corrupt Temne politician does not only harm Mendes; he harms Temnes as well. Poverty knows no tribe. Hunger speaks no dialect. Disease does not ask for your party card before it strikes.

The Way Out of the Open Prison

We must admit our guilt before we can find redemption. We must recognize that Sierra Leone is where it is not because of one president or one party, but because of all of us. Until we, the ordinary Sierra Leoneans, reject the politics of tribe and color, we will remain prisoners in the open, free to walk, yet chained to suffering.

The way out is not easy, but it is possible. It begins with voting for competence over tribe, with asking tough questions before elections, with holding leaders accountable after elections. It begins with refusing to sell our votes for a bag of rice or a t-shirt. It begins with breaking the silence when wrong is done, even if the wrongdoer is from our family or region.

│ “No politician can steal a nation’s future alone; it is the citizenry that decides whether to open the door or keep the chains on.”

– President Kabba

We must learn to say: If you cannot serve us, you cannot lead us. We must learn to value nation above tribe, character above surname, competence above loyalty. Only then will the bars of this invisible prison begin to fall.

The ordinary Sierra Leonean is free, yet not free. He is a prisoner in the open, condemned by his own choices, punished by his own silence, and chained by his own loyalties. The crimes are not committed by politicians alone; they are committed by all of us who empowered them.

Until the day we rise above tribe, region, and color, we will continue to live this sentence, guilty, yet untried; imprisoned, yet unchained. But the choice is ours: to remain prisoners in the open, or to finally free ourselves by changing the way we think, vote, and act.