By Jarrah Kawusu-Konte
“When a Nation Forgets It’s Sick, It Has Forgotten Itself”.
It began as a routine hospital visit, a gesture of care for a relative in distress. But it ended as something else entirely.
Not every life-changing moment comes with fanfare. Some arrive quietly, wrapped in the sterile stench of a government hospital ward, where dignity lies crumpled beside the broken remains of a wheelchair, and where hope walks barefoot through corridors cracked by neglect.
I stood in the heart of Connaught Hospital, our nation’s so-called flagship referral centre, and felt something collapse inside me.
It wasn’t just the shocking state of disrepair, the absence of basic hygiene, the suffocating overcrowding, the lack of simple essentials like surgical gloves or disinfectant. It was the realisation that Sierra Leone’s health system has not simply deteriorated, it has been abandoned.
And in that moment, I saw, more clearly than ever, why this country is crying out for a different kind of leadership.
We are not talking about high-tech machines or cutting-edge surgery. We are talking about wheelchairs that can actually roll, handwashing stations in the era of viral outbreaks, and hospital beds that don’t resemble medieval torture slabs. We are talking about humanity.
And we’ve lost it.
Meanwhile, those entrusted with the people’s wellbeing glide through the capital in luxury SUVs, air-conditioned and far removed from the heat of desperation. Ministries spend lavishly on leather chairs, marble tiles, and per diems, while patients bleed out in waiting rooms. It is not ignorance, it is indifference.
But how long must we accept this? How long must mothers continue dying while giving life? How long must health workers labour without protection, burn out without support, and bury their compassion beneath layers of institutional failure?
The truth is brutal, but it must be said, a nation that cannot protect its sick is a nation that no longer protects its soul.
The Unsung Soldiers in Scrubs, As Seen Through Bangura’s Eyes
During one of our conversations, Dr Bangura spoke with great emotion about the extraordinary sacrifices of health care workers. He called them “the unsung soldiers in scrubs,” men and women who wake up each day to serve under near-impossible conditions. Nurses who clean wounds without antiseptic, doctors who improvise with next to nothing, porters who comfort patients when no one else will.
He expressed deep admiration for their courage, describing how they are exposed to infection, to emotional trauma, to systems that punish their loyalty. And yet they return, day after day, to serve.
“They are the backbone of a broken system,” he told me, “and they deserve more than our gratitude, they deserve leadership that will fight for them.”
Dr Ibrahim Bangura, Born from This Fire, Ready for the Fight
I believe in Dr Ibrahim Bangura because he is not running from the truth, he is running toward it. His story is not an abstraction; it is stitched into the very fabric of the health care crisis we face. He lost a brother not because of fate, but because of a broken system. He knows what it means to feel helpless in a hospital corridor. He has lived the sorrow that defines too many Sierra Leonean households.
And rather than run away, he stepped up. He brings both policy experience and a heart educated by loss, a mind sharpened by years in monitoring results for services rendered in more than 30 countries, and a conscience that refuses to normalize mediocrity.
With eyes wide open to the weight of this task, he is therefore offering himself, not slogans .
His vision for health care isn’t just about equipment and infrastructure. It’s about rehumanizing the system, restoring dignity, equity, and trust. It’s about making sure no Sierra Leonean ever dies again for lack of a bed, a glove, or a doctor.
Policy Solutions, Not Rhetoric, From a Leader Who Knows the System
Dr Bangura understands that this is not a hopeless case. He shared with me his deep interest in lessons drawn from other countries—models we can learn from. Rwanda’s network of empowered community health workers. Kerala in India, with its focused maternal health strategies. Ghana and Kenya’s innovative use of mobile health financing apps to break the barrier of out-of-pocket costs.
Here at home, he reminded me, the APC government under President Ernest Bai Koroma had already laid an important foundation—introducing the Free Health Care initiative for women and children, building regional hospitals in Kono, Kailahun, the Western Area and other districts, and establishing health centres and PHUs in remote communities. The government also introduced solar mini grids in rural health facilities, launched specialist training programmes for doctors, and worked to widen access to medical care across the country.
“These were good policies,” Bangura said. “But they’ve been neglected. We must review, upscale, and sustain them—not just for political credit, but because the lives of our people depend on it.”
His plans include major investment in primary health care, decentralisation of services, rehabilitation of district hospitals, professionalised hospital management, fair pay and training opportunities for health workers, and digital tracking of medicine distribution. He is determined to ensure that no region, no community, and no citizen is left behind.
A Personal Stand for a National Cause
For years, I stepped back from politics, fatigued by the recycling of failures and false promises. But today, I return not to endorse a brand, but to champion a man.
Dr Ibrahim Bangura stands untouched by corruption, rooted in the realities of our people, and lifted by a team of capable minds and fresh voices from across the political spectrum.
He offers both a break from the past and a bridge to the future.
So I ask you not just to read this, but to feel it. To remember your last hospital visit. The tears you saw. The cries you ignored. The life that might have been saved.
And then, I ask you to act. To rally. To choose resurrection instead of resignation.
Because a nation that dares to care is a nation that begins to heal.
With Dr Ibrahim Bangura, Sierra Leone can heal, unite, and build—together.
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Jarrah Kawusu-Konte is a communication Specialist, former Political Editor of the We Yone Newspaper (2003 – 2006) and former Communications Manager and Director of Communications at State House (2011 – 2018). Former APC MP aspirant for Koinadugu District in 2002. A son of the soil, a believer in redemption, and a servant of hope.