ThinkTank

The blind street beggar in Sierra Leone who gave me back my alms

By Umaru Fofana

Alimamy, not his real name, is blind. He begs on the street of central Freetown, the Sierra Leone capital. He moves around with a walking stick in his right hand, and a girl said to be his daughter on whose right shoulder he lays his left hand. She must be around 10 years old. He is probably in his late 50s.

Sierra Leone’s cabinet reshuffle or kerfuffle

By Umaru Fofana

A cabinet reshuffle, as we know it, is no longer in vogue. Unless where there is a change of government, reshuffle happens now when there is a huge policy shift of government in which case those who are sceptical about or opposed to such would be required to leave government. Especially in a presidential system, cabinet reshuffle is a rarity these days. Generally appointees would rather resign or be asked to do so if their conduct or performance has become unsatisfactory or their position untenable.

Kambia: In tears for girls in northern Sierra Leone

By Umaru Fofana

It was just passed midnight. Our get-together in our hotel had ended, climaxing two days of humanitarian work in Kambia. So we decided to drive around the northern Sierra Leonean town, that late.

During the day we had been to some remote communities in the district, where we saw many people struggling for the most basic things in life. Thankfully we did not see any signs of child malnutrition even if some of the kids walked and ran around barefoot and semi-naked.

Befuddled by the corruption fondling in Sierra Leone

By Umaru Fofana

A secondary school in Kono District, which I cannot name, had electricity when such was a dream even for college campuses in the country. The students’ hostels, chemistry and physics laboratories, staff room and other offices, even staff quarters, etc. were all assured of electricity for a certain number of hours, daily. Then one day, the campus was left in pitch darkness, ostensibly forever. That was decades ago. And here is why:

Sierra Leone’s image that refuses to go away

By Umaru Fofana

From the Sacred Forest they emerged. The King’s Council of Elders and some young men. Some of them had their faces painted. Some dressed as women. One of them stood out the most – he looked like a pregnant woman, thanks to a calabash he had wrapped under a flowing gown. Tiny little gourds hung over the necks of many of the young men.

About four men carried bigger gourds tied to a stick lying on their shoulders. They walked to the nearby forest as they were joined by hundreds of mostly young men and women and children.

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