Saidu Bangura: Sierra Leone Telegraph: 13 October 2026:
On 11th October 2026, I walked into the Pademba Road prison with a broken spirit. My boss Joseph Fitzgerald Kamara, Sierra Leone’s former attorney-general & minister of justice, had spent his fourth night behind bars, and despite my repeated visits, the reality of his continued detention had become increasingly difficult to comprehend.
Perhaps, deep down, I had refused to accept that a man of his distinguished legal career, extraordinary public service, and remarkable national contributions could find himself incarcerated in the very country to whose constitutional order he has devoted so much of his life.
Here is a man who has occupied some of the highest offices in our legal and public institutions: former Attorney General and Minister of Justice, former Commissioner of the Anti-Corruption Commission, former President of the Sierra Leone Bar Association, and a distinguished former public servant.
Yet, at this moment, his titles, achievements, and accomplishments offered him no exemption from the personal cost of standing for a constitutional principle.
As usual, we engaged in a lengthy conversation. But my leader, perceptive as ever, quickly noticed the sadness written across my face. Looking at me, he asked in Krio: “Why u spirit look dae don (why are you looking so low spirited)”?
I could no longer conceal what was weighing on my heart. I responded: “Bra, wit all the sacrifices you don make for dis country, na you really dae inside prison so?”
It was a question born out of pain, disbelief, and concern for a man I deeply respect. I was struggling to reconcile his immense contributions to Sierra Leone with the reality of his present circumstances.
But his response was not one of bitterness, regret, or self-pity. Instead, he offered me a lesson in patriotism that immediately restored my courage and strengthened my resolve.
He reminded me of the immortal words of John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States of America: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
At that moment, something changed within me. I was reminded that genuine leadership is not measured solely by the offices one occupies, the privileges one enjoys, or the recognition one receives. It is also measured by the principles one is prepared to defend when doing so comes at a personal cost.
His detention reminds me that there comes a time when our commitment to the nation must transcend our personal comfort, ambitions, and interests. There are moments in the life of a country when the defence of its constitutional order demands courage, sacrifice, and an unwavering belief in the rule of law.
For him, this is a question of constitutionality. For me, it has become a lesson in courage, conviction, and the true meaning of public service.
I left Pademba Road Prison with a different spirit from the one with which I had entered. My sadness had not disappeared, but it had been overtaken by renewed determination. My doubts had given way to deeper conviction, and my concern had become a renewed commitment to the principles for which my leader says he is standing.
“This is my contribution to Sierra Leone in these trying times. This is the duty I owe to my profession, my country, and future generations,” he said.
The Constitution must remain supreme. The rule of law must apply to everyone, regardless of political affiliation, social standing, or public office. And the defence of constitutional principles must never be reduced to a contest of personalities or political interests.
Today’s visit further advanced my understanding of leadership that it is not always about standing on a podium, occupying an office, or commanding the attention of a crowd.
Sometimes, leadership is about remaining steadfast in one’s convictions when circumstances become difficult, and inspiring others to find courage when their own spirits begin to falter.