By Brima Sannoh
In the obscured corners of Sierra Leone’s rural Pujehun District, the promise of equality enshrined in law is a world away from the lives many women endure, where land can be lost overnight, and dignity can be traded for survival, particularly by those who should otherwise serve as moral guarantors.
In Sahn Malen, a lush, green district tucked into the southern belly of Sierra Leone, Baindu Bockarie should have been planting rice. Instead, she watches others till the soil she once called her own. Her ancestral land was taken, not by war or disaster, but by decree of local chiefs, who deemed her unworthy as a woman leading a household. “They said I was being disrespectful for staying on the land without a husband,” she says, her voice tight with hurt.
In another village nearby, Fatu Sheriff, a widow, recalls how her husband’s unfinished home, which was their only inheritance, became the subject of a bitter fight. Chiefs ruled that the house belonged to her brother-in-law. The only idiosyncratic and illogical argument they could advance, was that a woman could not inherit property. “After so many court battles, I let it go. I feared for my safety,” Fatu whispers. “They were too desperate for the house.” These are not isolated stories. They form the aching chorus of lives halted, and often broken, by the intersection of gender, poverty, and custom in Sierra Leone.
Meanwhile, Sierra Leone’s government has made legislative strides. The Gender Equality and Women’s Empowerment Act and a trilogy of progressive gender laws promise protection and inclusion. Yet, here in Pujehun, the realities are different. Despite laws granting women equal rights to inheritance and property, traditional power structures persist. Women are still treated, in the words of local advocates, “as legal minors” in many matters. They cannot inherit, they are underrepresented in leadership, and too often, they are denied the right to speak, let alone own.
“The law is progressive, but the practice remains primitive,” says Sadiatu Leigh, founder of Action Against Community Task (ACT) Sierra Leone. “We need action, not just aspiration.”
Tearfully, violence and intimidation are constant threats for women who resist. In Pujehun, gender-based violence is rampant yet underreported, as access to justice remains a luxury few can afford. There are no safe houses, few trained police officers, and even fewer convictions. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission report (2004) noted that women suffered “disproportionately” during Sierra Leone’s civil war, most of whom were subjected to sexual slavery, forced marriages, and mutilation. Two decades on, advocates say, the culture of silence remains entrenched, and justice remains elusive. “Women here have internalised fear,” says Leigh. “They survive, but at what cost to their rights, their bodies, their futures?”
Yet, female literacy rates lag far behind national averages. Access to reproductive healthcare is low, contributing to high maternal mortality. Child marriage remains common, and economic empowerment remains a mirage for many women, but worse is that women are grossly underrepresented in government. In some chiefdoms, no women hold a single decision-making position. “We talk of rights, but what about the ability to exercise those rights?” asks Florence Sandy, District Director of the Ministry of Gender and Children’s Affairs. “Pujehun is not unique. It is a mirror of Sierra Leone.”
The Ministry of Gender acknowledges the problem. Officials point to awareness campaigns and educational initiatives, but critics say these are piecemeal and underfunded. “It’s not enough to raise awareness,” says Leigh. “We need structural reform, in the courts, in the chieftaincies, in the economy.”
Sandy concurs, adding that “This is not a women’s issue, it’s a national issue. A society that sidelines half its population cannot develop.”
IS THERE A WAY OUT?
There is cautious optimism. The African Transitional Justice Legacy Fund, through support to grassroots media and civil society groups, is helping to amplify the voices of women like Baindu and Fatu. Community radio and local advocacy groups are challenging patriarchal norms and empowering women to reclaim their rights. But progress is slow, and fragile. “When I see my children hungry because I lost our land,” Baindu says, “I know the law is not yet for people like me.”
Rights activists and development experts are calling for legal reform enforcement, not just passage. They are similarly calling for community-based microfinance for women farmers and traders, increased female representation in chiefdom councils, robust protection systems for victims of gender-based violence, and radical societal re-education from the ground up.
Be that as it nay, in Pujehun, hope is measured in small victories: a widow who keeps her home, a girl who finishes school, a woman who speaks up and is not silenced. But the system; legal, cultural, and economic, remains tilted. Until that changes, Sierra Leone’s daughters will keep paying the price of broken promises and denied dignity. “Empower a woman,” says Sadiatu Leigh, “and you strengthen a nation. Deny her, and the whole country suffers.”
This story was produced with support from the African Transitional Justice Legacy Fund (ATJLF), through the Media Reform Coordinating Group (MRCG), under the project “Engaging Media and Communities to Change the Narrative on Transitional Justice Issues in Sierra Leone.
