*When Cinema Challenges the Mind to Search for Human Answers to Survival Threats*

I have always been a huge fan of movies. As a child living as a refugee in Guinea, I remember sneaking into our neighbours’ parlour just to catch a glimpse of whatever film was showing. I would quietly squeeze myself into a corner, careful not to block the way or offend the host family. My own family couldn’t afford the luxury of a television, our house was among the few without electricity.

The cinema became my hideout whenever I felt down. I would spend hours watching movies to escape the loneliness at home. Sometimes, I volunteered to clean the cinema hall before shows began, just to earn a free entry ticket. On other days, the operator would deny me access until the movie was almost over,but I waited anyway. My love for movies never waned, even after we returned home following Sierra Leone’s eleven-year civil war.

When I entered junior secondary school, my reason for watching films began to change. I realised that our displacement to Guinea had affected my English fluency, and I was performing poorly in class. Determined to improve, I turned to movie subtitles, especially from Bollywood films. I started reading them carefully, matching the words to the actors’ expressions and dialogue. Gradually, my comprehension improved. Within a few years, I became fluent enough to enjoy literature. I began buying second-hand books from street vendors, even though they were not part of our school curriculum. That habit shaped my intellectual growth more than I realised at the time.

Years later, I began to ask myself a deeper question: What if movies are more than just entertainment? What if they are designed to inspire philosophical ideologies in their viewers?

That question became even more relevant as I began watching Nollywood, Bollywood, and Hollywood films side by side. I came to see that each industry mirrors the cultural beliefs of its people. Beyond mere storytelling, they are also engineering a collective mindset.

For instance, Bollywood films of the 1990s often revolved around one-man heroism, a single individual rising against corruption or injustice. The underlying message was clear: change begins with one person, and others will join once you take the first step. Love stories were added for emotional appeal, but the central theme was courage, justice, and moral willpower.

Hollywood, on the other hand, pushed the boundaries of imagination. Sci-fi films like Star Trek, Star Wars, I, Robot, and Terminator explored universal dominance, artificial intelligence, and the power of human invention. They subtly promoted a belief in science as salvation. Even spy and agent movies were not mere entertainment, they reflected Western strategic thinking, influencing how societies perceived security, technology, and intelligence.

Meanwhile, Nollywood took a different path. Its dominant themes revolved around witchcraft, money rituals, and Christianity. The traditional herbalist became the villain--portrayed as an evil bush doctor who terrorised communities. The pastor or reverend father emerged as the heroic saviour who cast out demons and exposed the rich as ritualists. The narrative of blood money became central, reinforcing suspicion toward material success. Another recurring message was that wealthy older men preyed on young women, and that young women were home-breakers or ashawos--a moral warning framed in spiritual warfare.

Even Ghanaian YouTuber Wodemaya once confirmed this cultural stereotype in one of his vlogs from the Caribbean, where some women accused African ladies of “snatching husbands.” When asked where they got that notion, they said, “From Nollywood movies.”

Fast-forward to today, and each of these cinematic traditions has reaped what it sowed in the minds of its audience.

When I see young inventors and students in Asia creating robots or achieving scientific breakthroughs, I am not surprised. When I read about the emergence of ChatGPT and other AI tools challenging Google’s dominance, I see a direct reflection of the Hollywood imagination, a world that believes in human intellect and technology as the key to power and survival.

In contrast, across much of West Africa, religion dominates our cultural and intellectual spaces. In every town, you will find a church or a mosque. Communities pool resources to build these structures, yet struggle to construct workshops, laboratories, or small factories that could create jobs or solve local industrial needs. The psychological legacy of Nollywood’s religious storytelling lives on--we have been conditioned to see spirituality as the ultimate answer to every problem, while sidelining science and reason.

Even today, people often question the wealth of hardworking individuals, especially women. They accuse traders who wake up at 4 a.m. to cook and sell food of witchcraft simply because they manage to build a house or live decently. The same neighbours who do little to improve their own situation are quick to label success as supernatural. This is not merely ignorance--it is the product of decades of cultural conditioning through the stories we have consumed.

*Science, Intellect, and Willpower: Lessons from Batman and Iron Man*

Now, lest I forget what I truly wish to drive home in this piece, allow me to draw your attention to a critical observation I made from two blockbuster films, each from a different cinematic universe: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) by DC/Warner Bros., and Avengers: Endgame (2019) by Marvel Studios.

As I mentioned earlier, I treat movie-watching as a personal research project--an opportunity to decode meaning beyond entertainment. I chose these two films because, in my opinion, they reveal the ultimate ideological mission of Hollywood and Western storytelling: the glorification of human willpower, intellect, and science as the supreme forces of salvation.

Years ago, I read a thought-provoking essay attributed to a Nigerian professor titled *“You Cannot Reap a People of What They Don’t Have.”* That piece transformed how I watched movies. It taught me to look beyond the dialogue and camera angles, to study the philosophical engineering behind cinematography and how films can shape generations of thinkers.

Since then, I have spent years reflecting on the message of that essay and even attempted to write sequels to honour its brilliance--though none matched its profoundness. Yet, I find echoes of its wisdom in these two movies.

Now, I invite you to consider these two sincere questions:

Of all the gods, aliens, and powerful mythical beings in the Avengers, why was it Iron Man, a mere human dependent on science, who had to make the ultimate sacrifice to end the war and save humanity?

And why did Batman, an ordinary man with no superpowers, manage to defeat Superman, the mightiest being in the DC Universe, before later joining forces to save the world from Doomsday?

Doesn’t that already suggest that intellect and scientific ingenuity can rival, or even surpass, divine or mythical power?

The answer is a resounding yes! The entire cinematic design leads deliberately to that conclusion. The directors would never allow accidental science projects like Hulk or Captain America to defeat Thanos. Nor would they let mythical beings like Thor, Captain Marvel, or Doctor Strange save humanity. If they did, it would imply submission to gods, not science. Hollywood would rather engineer its audience,especially its young minds, to believe that salvation lies in human intellect, creativity, and innovation, not divine intervention.

The same can be said about Batman. Among all DC characters, he is the only superhero without supernatural powers. He is a scientific genius armed with willpower, logic, and courage. The pact may not have defeated Doomsday without Superman, but that doesn’t make Superman, the “god”—the most powerful. Batman had already proven through strategy and intellect that even divinity could be outsmarted by human reason.

The lessons we can draw from these two films as Africans are profound. We must begin to see Nollywood not just as entertainment but as a tool for social re-engineering. We must tell stories that inspire innovation, scientific curiosity, and collective progress, not just moral caution or spiritual fear.

A bright example of how cinema can reshape narratives is the Nollywood film Lionheart by Genevieve Nnaji, starring Pete Edochie and Nkem Owoh. Unlike many typical Nollywood stories, Lionheart portrays the strength, intellect, and resilience of a businesswoman who saves her father’s company. In many African films, women are often depicted as weak, emotional, or dependent. Lionheart challenges that stereotype, it celebrates women’s capability and leadership. It also redefines the role of the uncle figure (played by Nkem Owoh), not as a greedy saboteur but as a supportive family member.

Cinema is not just art-- it is architecture for the mind. Every frame builds or dismantles a worldview. While the West uses film to glorify intellect and science, much of African cinema still romanticises spirituality and suffering. Yet, the true power of cinema lies in its ability to imagine solutions before they exist.

If we, as Africans, begin to tell stories that celebrate thinkers, builders, and Innovator, the Batmans and Iron Men within us, then perhaps we will start raising a generation that does not wait for miracles, but creates them.

©Amadu Wurie Jalloh 

19/10/25

Photo credit: anonymous

*English Language: The Lingering Chain of Colonialism*

The West African Senior School Certificate Examination (WASSCE) results are out again this year. As always, some students are jubilating, while many more are in tears. The reasons for their cries are not as you might imagine. This single certificate decides who moves on to university and who must wait another year, or more, for that chance.

In secondary schools, students graduate from three main streams: Arts, Science, and Commercial. To qualify for university, one must have at least five credits, including English Language and any other four subjects. These other subjects may vary depending on the student’s chosen field, but one rule remains firm across all disciplines: no credit in English, no university entry.

Unsurprisingly, most of the heartbreak comes from students who fail to get that one English credit. Many of us, myself included, have had to sit the exam more than once just to secure it. I remember several classmates who dropped out completely after repeated failures. Some had strong results in other subjects, mathematics, economics, or history, but still couldn’t make it to university because they lacked a credit in English.

A few chose to enroll in technical or vocational schools, not necessarily out of passion, but because they had no other choice. Others kept rewriting the exams until they gave up, either due to financial constraints or family discouragement. In some cases, especially for girls, parents saw it as a waste of money to keep paying for the same exam, one already marred by corruption and malpractice.

Critics have long argued that WASSCE has lost much of its credibility. Leaked papers, bribed officials, and “special rooms” for cheating are now open secrets. Yet, the punishment almost always falls on students—results seized, grades cancelled, or even police cases opened against them. In the end, English Language becomes not a measure of brilliance, but a wall that blocks opportunity.

My concern is not so much the credibility of the exams, but rather the emphasis placed on English as the deciding factor for university entry. To me, this is a clear continuation of colonial control, only dressed in academic robes. It is a denial of our right to education, rooted in a system built to value foreign standards above local realities.

A 2021 National Achievement Survey and a 2022 Foundational Learning Study by the Ministry of Education (as cited by UNICEF, February 2024) found that children from tribal and rural backgrounds in India perform worse in school compared to their urban peers. One major reason was language. Many of these pupils are taught and tested in English—a language neither they nor their parents fully understand. The result is predictable: poor comprehension, low performance, and high dropout rates.

This is a story many of us know too well. We spent years struggling with English grammar instead of learning actual content. While children in England, China, or Japan were mastering science and technology in their native languages, we were busy trying to memorize tenses and idioms. The system taught us to pass exams, not to understand concepts. It trained us to sound educated, not to solve problems. We became imitators of Western models rather than innovators of our own.

The importance of learning in one’s mother tongue cannot be overemphasized. Denying Sierra Leoneans access to university because they failed English not only contradicts Sustainable Development Goal 4 (which calls for inclusive and equitable education) but also sustains cultural imperialism and postcolonial subjugation.

Research has consistently shown that children who learn in their first language perform better in comprehension and application. English should not be the key that unlocks education. It should be a bridge for communication, not a barrier to opportunity.

Let me be clear: I am not against English, nor do I oppose multilingual education. In fact, I strongly support it. But English should not determine who gets into university. Students have different strengths. The purpose of education should not be to create an elite class fluent in foreign speech, but to nurture thinkers, creators, and problem-solvers who can use knowledge to build society.

Instead of overemphasizing English, universities should focus on core subject areas relevant to each discipline. Science students should be assessed based on mathematics and science performance. Commercial students should be judged by their understanding of economics and business. Arts students should be evaluated for their grasp of history, literature, and civic knowledge.

Are we to deny all these capable students a university education simply because they struggle with English? Will English fix our economy or create jobs for our youth?

Na!

We must stop treating technical and vocational education as a dumping ground for those who “fail” English. We must stop equating fluency with intelligence. Education should not exclude—it should empower. It is time we begin to teach and learn in the languages that reflect who we are. Only then will we truly break the lingering chain of colonialism that still binds our minds, decades after political independence.

©Amadu Wurie Jalloh 

19/10/25

*Developing Sierra Leone from Within, Not Between: The Genuine Role of the Sierra Leonean Diaspora in Nation-Building*

According to data from the World Bank and Knoema, Sierra Leone received an estimated USD 293 million in personal remittances in 2023. This represents approximately 4.6 percent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP), which stood at about USD 6.41 billion in the same year (World Bank, GDP (current US$), 2023; Knoema, Remittances to Sierra Leone, 2023).

When compared with the Annual Public Accounts for the Financial Year 2023 (Ministry of Finance, Sierra Leone), which projected domestic revenue at NLe 9.35 billion—equivalent to 14 percent of GDP—it becomes evident that remittances play a significant role in sustaining household incomes and supporting the emergence of middle-income families across the country.

Furthermore, if domestic revenue is treated as the baseline (100 percent) of GDP, then remittances would amount to roughly 28.6 percent of this benchmark. Put differently, remittances are equivalent to nearly one-third of total domestic revenue, illustrating their macroeconomic significance.

When assessed against Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) inflows for the same period, the relevance of remittance inflows becomes even clearer. According to the World Bank, Sierra Leone’s FDI net inflows in 2023 totaled USD 241 million (Foreign Direct Investment, Net Inflows (BoP, current US$), 2023), representing approximately 3.8 percent of GDP, almost a full percentage point lower than personal remittances.

These three sources of financial inflows--domestic revenue, FDI, and remittances--each play a distinct role in Sierra Leone’s economic development. A clear understanding of their nature and objectives is crucial for formulating evidence-based policy interventions.

*Characterizing Key Financial Inflows*

1. Domestic Revenue (Public Source):

Derived primarily from taxation, licenses, royalties, duties, fees, and returns from state-owned enterprises. It constitutes the core of fiscal sovereignty. However, its performance is often constrained by bureaucratic inefficiencies, weak administrative capacity, and systemic corruption.

2. Foreign Direct Investment (Private Source):

Comprises long-term capital investments from foreign nationals, corporations, or institutions. It frequently involves technology transfer and sector-specific projects. Although FDI contributes to productivity and employment, it remains market-driven and volatile, and often results in capital flight through profit repatriation.

3. Personal Remittances (Private Source):

Represent direct, person-to-person financial transfers from citizens abroad. They are typically stable, counter-cyclical, and consumption-driven, providing household-level resilience but contributing only modestly to institutional or industrial expansion due to their fragmented and small-scale nature.

*From Consumption to Production: Rethinking Remittance Utilization*

Given their scale and stability, the policy challenge is to transform remittances from purely social transfers into productive investments. This involves developing mechanisms that channel a portion of diaspora remittances into local industries, agro-processing, renewable energy, construction, and micro-enterprise financing.

Remittances already surpass FDI in annual inflows, demonstrating a reliable source of private capital that could be leveraged for structured development financing. The key question therefore becomes:

How can Sierra Leoneans abroad earn sustainable returns on their remittances while simultaneously strengthening local economic capacity?

Diaspora communities in advanced economies are well-positioned to answer this question. In Western nations such as the United States, the private sector accounts for over 80 percent of GDP and employs the vast majority of the workforce. This contrasts sharply with Sierra Leone, where, according to the Sierra Leone Labour Market Profile 2023/2024, the private sector accounts for approximately 58 percent of employment--much of it within unregulated or informal sectors, often characterized by low productivity and underemployment.

This structural imbalance underscores the need for policy frameworks that encourage formalization and productive investment, particularly from the diaspora. Well-structured diaspora investment schemes, supported by transparent governance and risk-mitigation mechanisms, could transform remittances from short-term consumption flows into sustainable engines of growth.

Sierra Leone remains a nascent economy, endowed with natural resources, human capital, and opportunities for investment across multiple sectors. For the Sierra Leonean diaspora, engagement in local development should therefore transcend emotional or charitable gestures. It should be viewed as a strategic economic partnership that enables wealth creation, job generation, and institutional strengthening within the domestic economy.

The second part of this series will examine how Sierra Leoneans in the diaspora can pursue impactful investment opportunities within the country--independent of political ambition or affiliation.

© Amadu Wurie Jalloh 

18/10/25

Two Clock Towers in Makeni: When Impression Overrides Experience

The exact date of the construction of the East-End Police Clock Tower is not known, but it was undoubtedly built during the colonial era, originally marking the entrance point to Freetown city. Today, this historic landmark stands as a reminder of how far we have come: from a land of freed slaves, to a colony created for the establishment and propagation of Western ideologies, and finally, to a resilient people striving to prove their capacity for self-determination.

Over time, this colonial relic has become a symbol of progress and transformation for other city centres and towns in what was once known as the Protectorate. One way these communities express their desire for modernization and metropolitan transition is through the construction of clock towers-- projects often undertaken by local authorities or patriotic indigenes. This architectural heritage, coupled with streets that still bear colonial names such as Campbell Street, Savage Square, Rawdon Street, and McRobert Street, reflects how deeply colonial influence continues to shape our urban spaces and cultures.

Makeni, like many other regional cities, embodies this imitation of colonial symbolism. The city takes pride in its uniquely designed clock tower--often hailed as one of the finest in the country--even though the clock has been frozen in time for years. Interestingly, most of Makeni’s major streets and neighbourhoods are named after those in Freetown, underscoring its long-standing aspiration to mirror the capital’s urban identity.

Yet, here lies the irony: Makeni, despite these visible emblems of progress, continues to suffer from some of the most deplorable road networks in the region. Of particular concern is the road leading to the Regional Hospital in Makama. Residents have long questioned why this crucial road, used daily by pregnant women and patients seeking advanced medical care, was excluded from the road rehabilitation projects commissioned under the previous APC regime. Many still wonder when construction will finally be completed, years after it began.

What is even more baffling, however, is the recent construction of a second clock tower at the Turntable area by the current serving Mayor. From the very start, I have asked: What is the need for another clock tower when the first remains non-functional?

Supporters of the project argue that it reflects the Mayor’s dedication and hard work. But I continue to ask: Is this visionary leadership or simply performative leadership? Is development about what people see, or about what they actually experience?

Building a second clock tower while the first stands still represents a clear case of misplaced priorities. It is not a felt need, but an induced one--crafted to score political points rather than to deliver meaningful development.

Although I do not know the exact cost of the new project, one thing is certain: whatever amount was allocated could have been better invested in repairing the Makama Road that leads to the Government Hospital. Ask the current Mayor about the road, and he might tell you that the central government has been neglectful. But that explanation, to me, exposes a deeper flaw in governance and leadership as practiced in Sierra Leone.

The very idea of decentralisation becomes questionable if a city council can raise funds to build a second clock tower but cannot fix a life-threatening road. If the council can afford a monument, surely it can afford to patch a critical route to a hospital. The issue, therefore, is not about resources but about vision. Without visionary leadership acumen, even the most patriotic leader can fail to bring about genuine change.

What Makeni needs is not another clock tower, but an improved road network that ensures safe and easy access to essential facilities. Only the gullible would consider a second clock tower a priority.

This project, in my view, serves more as a political monument than a developmental one, a symbol of legacy-building rather than visionary progress.

It is no secret that Makeni is now struggling to maintain its former status as one of Sierra Leone’s cleanest cities-- a title it proudly held twice under the leadership of former Mayor Sunkarie Kabba.

A genuine leader would not prioritise monuments over people’s welfare. Such a leader would channel resources into improving public health, strengthening sanitation, and rebranding Makeni as a clean, healthy, and flourishing city. Real development should enhance the experience of the people, not merely feed their impression of progress.

Development, in my perspective, must aim to improve how people live and feel--not how leaders want to be remembered.

© Amadu Wurie Jalloh 

16/10/25

The Thin Line between Identity and Integrity: How Africa's Future is in its Drowning Languages and Not in its Borrowed Tongues

This news has been making the rounds on social media for days now: Nigeria has joined other African countries, the likes of South Africa, Namibia, Tanzania, Cameroon, Mozambique, Zambia, Uganda, Kenya, and others, in adding Chinese Mandarin to their formal education curriculum as an optional international language.

While this move may appear strategic, given China’s rising political influence and dominance in the global economy, I believe that alongside such initiatives, Nigeria should also consider reintroducing Nsibidi — the indigenous pictographic and ideographic writing system once used by the Ekpe society in precolonial Nigeria. Reviving and teaching indigenous systems of knowledge can help reshape the country’s future and strengthen sovereignty in science and education.

As Africans, we must not rush into teaching our children foreign languages simply under the banner of “opening more opportunities.” More urgent and profound is the need to reclaim our identity and integrity. Yes, Mandarin may open doors, but it also strengthens China’s soft power agenda, subtly creating a future where our survival becomes tied to theirs.

When will we realize that Darwin’s words: “survival of the fittest”, are not just about biology but about ideology? We are in a battle of ideas. We once trusted the West to educate our children, and what did we get? As Phillip O.C. Umeh lamented, we produced “Ambassadors of Poverty.” Our leaders stash stolen funds in Western banks while signing selfish deals that mortgage the future of generations yet unborn.

Now, disillusioned with the West for funding conflicts in the Sahel, looting our minerals, drowning our youths in perilous migration, imposing sanctions, and closing their borders against us, we turn eastward. But will welcoming China and Russia simply open another chapter of plunder, this time of both our resources and our minds?

True development must start from within. Let us teach our indigenous languages, reinstate our lost glory, and rewrite our histories. Tell our children that Bai Bureh was not a belligerent troublemaker, but a great warrior who fought for our freedom. Equip our youths with skills and self-confidence, not with inferiority complexes that define education as the ability to speak English or any other foreign language.

The Chinese and Indians did not rise to global prominence by learning English first. They mastered science, technology, and philosophy in their own languages, building self-pride and national confidence along the way.

Policies that prioritize teaching foreign languages over indigenous knowledge risk turning education into indoctrination rather than liberation.

In Sierra Leone and Liberia, for instance, introducing the Vai script in schools and spreading it widely would not only preserve our heritage but also inspire innovation. Our languages already hold within them the science and technology our ancestors used to build the societies we inherited. The challenge is whether we have the courage to value and cultivate them.

©Amadu Wurie Jalloh

20/09/25

Möbius Strip

In the dark chambers of my past,

a part of me still calls

from the hollow silence of memory.

I hear the loud silence--

a boy of nine weeping within me,

aching to be a child

in a world painted with lies.

He longs for warmth,

but the nights were burning cold,

lit only by anger,

shadowed by loss.

What does happiness feel like?

Is it the warmth that lingers

after the lash of pain?

Does it give joy while hiding hope

in chambers of uncertainty?

Does it smell like petrichor,

when tears water the dusty road of hope?

Does it taste like the leftover potato-leaf sauce,

served in the morning to an empty stomach?

Does it sound like the womb’s first lullaby—

the primal hum that rocks a child to peace?

My nights are quiet,

yet they thunder with grief.

Even as I rest on the softness of my bed,

my heart drifts back

to the jagged stones of yesterday.

It seems…

the past is not behind me--

it breathes, whispering me into sleeplessness,

then shakes me awake

into oblivion.

©Amadu Wurie Jalloh 

02/09/25

Secret Society Forest: A Gem under Modernisation Threat

 No we should not move 'secret society forest' from city centres to remote or suburb areas. Just like cultural spaces we should make room for their existence and continuation whilst reform actions are taken to curb their excesses for a peaceful coexistence and public perceptivity change in our heterogeneous societies today.

Secrete society forests are more than cultural initiation passage, they hold many benefits, ranging from cultural specialization schooling, preserving medicinal herbs for various local diseases and (possibly) undiscovered ailments; ecological integrity through the preservativion of primary forests; cultural relics and sacred knowledge of cultures; and the dots connecting or linking cultural relation between ethnic groups in Sierra Leone and Africa at large [transnational relation] (example: use of Yoruba and Igbo language as sacred language for the membership of some Secret society groups in Sierra Leone). A lot more other benefits can be derived from preservation efforts to these forest.

What we should instead embark upon is preservation effort for these spaces in urban or metropolitan settings. Some preservation efforts are as highlighted below:

1. RESEARCH: It's fundamentally necessary to consider conducting research studies on the practices and conduct of secrete society groups in order to:

I. Help preserve potentially lost knowledge and document yet undocumented relics;

II. Study the herbal medicinal uses and their efficacy and application to local and more than ailments; and

III. Identify dangerous practices and advance mechanisms for reform actions.

The establishment of laboratory 🔬 facilities and collaboration efforts between traditional groups and academic/ think tank institutions can help shape the conduct of such studies and advance hidden but yet relevant knowledge in the use of herbal medicines and traditional therapeutic practices for economics and social benefits.

IV. Research efforts can also help establish the transnational link/connection between cultures in the subregion and Africa at large whilst also taking note of cultural losses or gains (through acculturation, assimilation or amalgamation) made since the establishment of modern African States. 

2. Recording and documenting folklores and legends: secret society forest may be the powerbank of knowledge, arts and culture. The tradition of narrative story telling is losing out and a whole lots of knowledge is draining down the blackhole because of lack of interest to document and preserve knowledge. Efforts must be made to preserve this form of knowledge base and document them. Cultural preservation spaces must be established to ensure access to and familiarisation to such knowledge. Our culture holds the key to technological revolution, economic and social advancements.

3. Funding opportunity: government should consider making provision for funds to preserving these forest. In many instances people engage in herbal medicine (herbalists) are considered witches and the practice is considered backward and irrelevant. Funding efforts to establish laboratory facilities for research, to fence these places; and give scholarship opportunities to herbalists to further their studies or research in places like China, Ghana or Nigeria (where herbal medicines are use alternatively to that of clinical med) can help in exchange and enlightenment processes. There are lots of economic and social benefits to the practice than seen today.

4. Reform actions against Violent and Dangerous practices: this is especially the case when it comes to how certain groups forcefully initiate some of its new members. One fundamental concern regarding secret society groups in metropolitan areas is the respect for human rights and the concern for consent giving for intakes. In many instances new members are forcefully initiated (for some groups) . This threatens the security of the unwilling members and general public who consider the practice alien or irrelevant or unrelated to their culture. Reform actions that conform to heterogeneous coexistence and acceptance must be taken. This will not only boost public confidence and security concern, but also help maintain best practices. Initiation materials should be inspected and regulation efforts must be shown to avoid harm or health related problems or concern.

What's your take on the concerns and strategies highlighted above. What's your advice regarding the safeguarding and preserving of cultural spaces and secret society forests?

©

~Amadu Wurie Jalloh

30th August, 2024