/ 7 November 1997

Sierra Leone’s president waits patiently,

hoping for peace

Angella Johnson

Alhaji Ahmad Tejan Kabbah was about to step into the shower before setting off to the mosque for his morning prayers, when he switched on the special radio he always carried to monitor military activities and heard that a group of soldiers had taken control of Sierra Leone; he was no longer president.

The coup leaders had driven a yellow Mercedes into the country’s main prison and freed the inmates. In the ensuing chaos of looting and violence that swept the capital, Freetown, Kabbah was spirited across the border to Guinea – the rest of his government fled with the assistance of the mercenaries who guarded their compounds.

Six months on, the 67-year-old former United Nations official is a president without a country, but is still regarded by world leaders as the democratically elected head of state and afforded such privileges on the world political stage.

It is an anomaly that was not lost on him when he attended the recent Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting in Scotland, as a guest of the British government. “It is very unusual, but it is a sign that the international community will no longer continue to accept the dismissal of legitimate governments by renegade soldiers,” he said.

In the elegant sitting room of one of Edinburgh’s most expensive hotels (suites start at nearly R2 000 a night), Kabbah recalls the fateful day he woke up as president of one of Africa’s poorest (but diamond-rich) nations and went to bed an exile.

“It was on May 25th this year; I was about to do my ablutions before going for morning prayers, when I heard the control room telling the head of the military that some heavily armed men had just walked into the maximum security prison, released the prisoners and declared themselves in control.”

Kabbah immediately called his chief security officer, who was already on his way to the president’s private mansion on a hillside overlooking the Atlantic ocean. “He suggested I move to the official residence nearby where a helicopter was on standby.”

This contingency plan had been worked out in advance following two previous coup attempts during Kabbah’s 14 months in office. “We knew that because of the history of military take-over since Sierra Leone’s independence in 1961, that this threat was going to be the biggest challenge for our fledgling democracy,” he explained.

A lawyer by training and an economist, he had reluctantly taken on the political mantle and was swept to power in the country’s first multi-party election for nearly 80 years. “I had come home to enjoy my retirement, but many people pleaded with me to stand,” he said.

“I don’t regret it because I believed at the time that I had contributed to peace and stability in my country in the very short time that I was there. I now feel that I have a moral duty to my people because maybe they were looking for someone like me to begin the process of economic development.”

In the 20 years that Kabbah worked on developmental matters for the UN he acquired a reputation as a diligent and honest man. He even refused to take his presidential salary “because the country was in such dire financial state” and instead survived on his generous UN pension. He also lived in his own house, which has since been demolished by the rebels.

Kabbah, who currently lives in Guinea, is hopeful that a peace accord brokered by Nigeria’s military junta will lead to his return to power as head of a broadly based unity government by April 22 next year. He hopes to bring about peace through unity, even if that means amnesty for the coup leaders.

“We have had a long history of violence, but with the help of the World Bank and other international organisations, I believe we can start to re-educate our people and rebuild the country. My only concern is that six months is too long a time to leave the country in the hands of people who are destroying it.”