The Day Honour Fell: Inside The Orchestrated Humiliation Of Sierra Leone’s First Lady

By Mahmud Tim Kargbo

Freetown, 7 August 2025 will be remembered as the day the moral soul of Sierra Leone’s democracy was not merely wounded, but paraded before the world in open disgrace. Inside the Well of Parliament, a chamber meant to embody our highest standards of national honour and legislative decorum, the dignity of the Republic was dragged through the mire.

Her Excellency the First Lady, Fatima Bio, entered for the State Opening expecting courtesy and ceremonial respect, the customs that frame our democracy. Instead, she was met with jeers, taunts, and the now infamous chant “e cocoa ros”, a crude insult born from the bitter aftermath of the recent SLPP National Delegates Conference.

Yet behind the title and the public stage stands a woman whose political journey has never been about applause or vanity, but about mission. From the day she stood beside her husband in the struggle for State House, she has carried two vows: to enhance his presidential ambition and protect his presidency, and to ensure her party secures the leadership of this nation beyond 2028. That mission has carried her across political rivers and through partisan storms. It has been tested in the jungles of both politics and public perception. To seek her humiliation in the Well of Parliament is not merely to wound an individual, but to strike at the very symbol of continuity, resilience, and national pride.

This was no spontaneous flash of disorder. It was a performance of humiliation, choreographed for maximum political theatre. Before the assembled Members, under the cold gaze of television cameras, and in the full view of the citizens whose trust Parliament is meant to guard, Sierra Leone’s democratic stage was transformed into a theatre of contempt.

Parliament is intended to be a sanctuary of disciplined debate and principled disagreement, a temple where ideas, not personalities, are tested. It is not and must never become a circus ring for the public degradation of women in leadership. The First Lady is more than the President’s spouse; she is a national representative in diplomacy, humanitarian causes, and state functions. In other democracies, such behaviour would have triggered immediate sanction. In London’s House of Commons, Members have been suspended for less. In the legislatures of Canada and South Africa, breaches of parliamentary decorum are met with decisive and uncompromising discipline.

The question before Sierra Leone is not whether the First Lady’s politics inspire agreement or dissent. It is whether we have the will to defend the dignity of the offices and institutions that symbolise our Republic. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, in its post-war warning, cautioned that “the erosion of respect for public office breeds division, resentment, and instability.” Those words now echo in the Well of Parliament, unanswered and dangerously ignored.

The Calculated Orchestration Behind the Chants

The chant of “ e cocoa roast o”, now universally recognised as a jibe at the First Lady, did not erupt from thin air. It was scripted. It was rehearsed. It was deployed by political actors who regard Her Excellency’s rising public stature as a threat to their own survival. Their chosen weapon was not debate, but humiliation, a crude bludgeon wielded in front of the nation.

What they failed to grasp is that this is not the First Lady’s first trial in the political arena. She has endured the heat of party conventions, the strain of political rivalries, and the relentless glare of public scrutiny. She has been tested in moments where the price of loyalty was paid in scars. From the backrooms of the SLPP’s fiercest internal contests to the global platforms of humanitarian advocacy, she has stood firm. Those who thought a chant could unravel her resolve underestimated both her resilience and the depth of her mission.

For some, her unapologetic Pan-Africanist vision is a constant provocation, for it exposes their own compromises and betrayals. More dangerously, she has been unflinching in her opposition to Koidu Holdings, a corporate rogue entity whose activities have long thrived on the quiet complicity of certain political figures. In a country where too many have mortgaged the nation’s dignity for corporate favour, such defiance is regarded as unforgivable.

Those who understand the tactics of corporate predators know that their wars are not fought in the open. They are prosecuted through proxies, through the quiet poisoning of reputations, and through backroom deals sealed in whispers. It is in this light that many interpret the attack on the First Lady as retribution from those she once defended into power, now colluding with the very corporate interests she dared to challenge, eager to prove their loyalty to the highest bidder.

The Descent into Disrespect

Even as the First Lady endured the spectacle in Parliament, the attack continued beyond its walls. A coordinated digital smear campaign was launched. Paid bloggers, partisan journalists, and online propagandists flooded social media with the claim that she had been “disrespectful” to both the President and the Honourable Speaker by failing to rise in applause when they entered. To many, this was no coincidence but Act Two of the same political script, a trap designed to tarnish her before the President’s first words to the nation could be spoken.

The irony is that the very act used to accuse her of disrespect, holding her own counsel rather than rising for a hollow display, is itself an assertion of democratic principle. The right to stand, or to remain seated, is the right to one’s own conscience. To demand otherwise is to reduce Parliament’s grandeur to a theatre of coerced gestures.

Rather than investigate, the Honourable Speaker granted an interview stating that the First Lady “owed him an apology”. This, to countless observers, appeared to place the authority of the Speakership behind a false narrative and to align Parliament’s highest office with the very faction that had orchestrated the insult. In doing so, the Speaker not only deepened the personal wound, but risked undermining public trust in the neutrality of the institution he leads.

A Test of Our Democratic Standards

This crisis has moved beyond personalities and political tribes. It has become a test of the democratic standards we claim to uphold. Across party lines, principled Sierra Leoneans are demanding a formal investigation into the events of 7 August 2025, with disciplinary action against any Member found complicit. This is not vengeance. It is the minimum act of respect for the Republic’s dignity.

The TRC’s lessons remain urgent: respect for institutions is the foundation of stability. Allowing the public shaming of the First Lady to pass without consequence is to invite a future in which such conduct becomes routine, and becomes the face of Sierra Leone abroad. In the unforgiving theatre of international diplomacy, perception is as consequential as policy.

The First Lady herself has declared that she will remain at the frontlines when needed, in the background when necessary, but always in service to her husband, her party, and her country. That is not the language of a victim. It is the resolve of a stateswoman who knows that when the dust settles, Sierra Leone will still have a nation to build, an election to win, and a legacy to protect.

Sierra Leone’s political life can be fierce in debate, but it must be civil in conduct. To degrade the symbols of our nation is to erode the very authority we claim to defend.

In the words of one citizen, speaking for many: “Our politics should build bridges; it should not burn the dignity of our leaders.”