Alpha Amadu Jalloh: Sierra Leone Telegraph: 13 April 2025:
It was sometime in 2001, in the warm, buzzing office of the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone. The war had ended, but the scars were still fresh, and conversations about rebuilding were everywhere. I remember sitting with a few international colleagues when Patrice Vahard, the Head of the Human Rights Section, looked me in the eye and asked: “Alpha, do you know what the real problem of Sierra Leone is?” Without hesitation, I answered, “Poverty.”
The room erupted into laughter, not mocking, but a knowing kind of laughter that caught me completely off guard. Theresa Kambobe, a Zambian lady seated close to us, laughed so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks. I looked around in confusion, unsure what was so amusing about what I had thought was a painfully obvious truth.
Theresa, catching her breath, said, “My son, every Sierra Leonean I’ve asked that same question gives the same answer, poverty. That’s why we’re laughing.” Still puzzled, I turned back to Patrice and asked, “If it’s not poverty, then what is it?”
He leaned forward and said something that changed my perspective forever: “Alpha, the problem in Sierra Leone is not poverty. The problem started the day your educated elite decided to ignore their responsibilities. Poverty is not the root; it is a symptom.”
I was stunned. I wanted to argue, to defend what I believed was the obvious truth. For years, we had seen poverty devastate communities, deny children their future, and degrade the human spirit. But Patrice’s words planted a seed in my mind, one I couldn’t ignore.
Years passed. I often thought about that encounter, trying to find the right words to express its weight. And then, years later, I found myself in another profound discussion, this time with Uncle Sam, a senior member of the Salone Writers Forum and a deeply respected thinker.
We were talking about the state of our country, the failures we continue to endure, and why progress always seems like a mirage. He echoed what Patrice had said years ago, but he put it even more plainly.
“Alpha, education is not our solution. It has become our biggest problem.”
That struck me like lightning. We often say education is the key to success. But what happens when those holding the keys refuse to open any doors? Uncle Sam explained it clearly. “When the educated choose silence over action, when they believe not challenging the government is safer, when they choose careers over courage, then education has failed.”
And I understood. The true tragedy of Sierra Leone is not that we lack resources or aid. It’s that our most enlightened citizens have chosen self-preservation over national duty. The educated, the ones with the tools to diagnose and fix the system, have become complicit in its decay.
In a society where the educated fear confrontation and favour comfort, corruption thrives. When those who understand the Constitution do not defend it, when those trained to uphold the law look the other way, and when the gifted writers, teachers, and speakers fall silent, then the darkness deepens.
We blame poverty, but poverty is only the visible consequence of this deeper collapse.
We are not poor because we are unlucky. We are poor because those who could build the bridges, schools, and hospitals, those who could challenge injustice and design systems for fairness, chose not to.
Ask yourself: How many Sierra Leonean professors have marched against corruption in the education system? How many lawyers have refused to represent corrupt politicians? How many journalists still write without fear or favour?
How many engineers have turned down contracts when they knew the money would be stolen? How many of us in the diaspora use our influence to challenge wrong, rather than look away?
Instead, we celebrate quiet success stories, those who “minded their business” and got ahead. We reward silence. We admire survival. But nation-building does not thrive on silence. It thrives on sacrifice, courage, and accountability.
The idea that poverty is our greatest enemy has allowed us to excuse those who should know better. We see politicians steal, and we say, “Well, he was poor too.” We watch failed public projects and say, “Na Salone.” We have normalized failure because we have abandoned responsibility.
But here is the truth: Poverty cannot be overcome by the poor alone. It is the duty of those with knowledge, access, and voice to speak up. To build, to reform, to challenge, and to inspire.
Patrice was right. And so was Uncle Sam. Our real national tragedy is not poverty. It is the failure of the educated to lead with integrity. But it is not too late.
Real change will come, not when the poor protest in hunger, but when the educated rise with purpose. When university lecturers refuse to work under a broken system. When lawyers defend justice even when it’s dangerous. When writers stop begging for government contracts and start telling uncomfortable truths. When religious leaders refuse bribes. When civil servants blow the whistle. When we, the educated, decide to live up to the power our education gives us.
Sierra Leone will change the day we refuse to go to bed in silence. The day we decide that enough is enough. That day, we won’t wait for foreign aid. We won’t wait for elections. We won’t wait for miracles. Because real transformation does not come from outside, it comes from within.
It starts with the decision to no longer be silent. It starts when the educated refuse to be safe and instead choose to be bold. It starts when we realize that our degrees, our titles, our knowledge mean nothing if they don’t serve our people.
The moment we do that, change will not be gradual. It will be immediate. Because truth, spoken with courage, is more powerful than any army. And when the enlightened finally decide to light the way, no darkness can survive.
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