27/04/2026
Salone @ 65
By Cheukai Makari
(232news)—
It's been a while since the last bittersweet birthday installation and, after struggling to find my voice regarding the land that I love, this year I have something to say. I'm not sure whether it's because turning 65 in 2026, a year that already feels so bridled with tension, conflict and uncertainty, that independence always brings around a time for honest reflection. April 27th then becomes, to me, an annual reflection of who we are, what we have done and where we are going.
It's hopeful to talk about our goals, hopes, and dreams, and what we hope to see in our country. It's easier to criticize our shortcomings, our leaders and the conditions we face on a daily basis. It's even nostalgic to remember who we were, where we came from and celebrate the steps that our ancestors took to get us to this point 65 years ago.
For some reason, this year, the first reflection is the one that stumped me. Who we are.
Now more than ever, at what feels like the peak of interdependence and interwovenness, it is imperative to bolster our national identity, not dilute it. And unfortunately, the evidence of dilution is becoming impossible to ignore beyond my self-imposed silence. The internet and social media have facilitated globalization beyond traditional means, and, just like everything in the world, this presents itself as a cycle. The pendulum only shifts so far to one side of the spectrum before it swings back to the other extreme, and it's becoming more and more evident in how we speak to each other, represent ourselves and even engage with one another. Taking a step back from the geopolitical and economic troubles that plague our realities and news feeds on a daily basis, let's consider the social. What, in this day and age, on our 65th birthday, does it mean to be Sierra Leonean?
Since when did Sierra Leonean culture become a vague reflection of overarching West African popular culture? Values, identity, presence, all gradually blurring into a hodgepodge of influences that were never quite ours to begin with. 'Chale' this, 'sha' that. And look, we are all connected by social media, globalization, the internet and so on and on and on. That much is undeniable. But that interconnectedness hasn't diluted what it means to be Nigerian in the global landscape. Say what you want about them, but the national identity is clear. The same goes for Ghana regardless of the complaints citizens raise domestically, their culture extends well beyond the country's borders.
And that's precisely the point.
A national identity strong enough pushes beyond the nuance of the individual. It doesn't limit multidimensionality, it enhances it. What concerns me is the quiet bastardization of a distinctly unique culture in favour of imitating one that was never ours.
I want to be clear - this is an observation, not an indictment. Because the question of when the shift happened matters less than the question of whether we even noticed.
I ask this while being completely aware that the country's identity has been shaped by a myriad of cultures over time. In fact, a significant part of being Sierra Leonean is, in essence, to be a combination of things. For example, the Krio language is just that - a combination. So to pose this question is not to obscure the idea that every person, environment, and thing is a product of its surroundings. Nothing and no one is truly independent. This is common knowledge.
The core of the question still remains, though. What is it that we can say has defined us in the past 65 years?
The closer I looked, the answer seemed to me that to be Sierra Leonean feels like always waiting for someone else to decide what our story is going to be — and then following that path. This isn't a broad-based critique; it's a genuine curiosity I've been beginning to ponder as I engage with more Africans and am able to feel their national presence despite the present challenges their nations may face. A perfect example of this would be the Speed Africa stream which, for all intents and purposes, was a beautiful showcase of the versatility and depth of African culture and identity. Putting aside that we weren't even included in the stream, a topic for another day, if we had to showcase our country to the world, what exactly would we bring to the forefront?
Is it blood diamonds? Still? Surely at 65 this isn't all we can been known for.
Let's put a more modern and optimistic lens on things: are we known for our beautiful beaches, minerals and resilient people? Not necessarily. Our minerals are owned by foreigners, the beaches we love are at risk due to climate change, and the beautiful people who, despite all the odds, carry the reach of Sierra Leone far beyond its borders are consistently underserved. Because in the 65 years since European rule, we haven't been able to adequately take care of ourselves in a way that accurately reflects who we are in the global arena. In fact, as an individual, it sometimes feels like my identity as a Sierra Leonean isn't reflected in the identity that our nation portrays.
It's time to move away from being 'resilient', which is just a Western-adorned term that rewards those who can withstand long-term suffering, and truly consider what we define our national identity to be and how we choose to reflect that to the world. This isn't meant to be a critique, but a genuine conversation starter for every Sierra Leonean, because as soon as we can decide on who we are as a people, we can decide where it is that we want to go. With so many conflicting ideals, morals and values, no wonder we find ourselves in a precarious situation at 65 with not much to show for our tenure.
So on this 65th birthday, I don't have an answer. I just have the question. The one I think we've been too distracted, too divided, or maybe too afraid to sit with. Who are we, really? Not who the world decided we were. Not who we borrowed from our neighbors. Not who we survived into being. Who are we, on our own terms? And what are we going to do about it? Anyways, until next year happiest bittersweet birthday, Mama Salone.
