The narrativisation of our individual and collective pasts—what scholars often term history—has rarely prioritised problematising those pasts to foster national or continental unity. In Sierra Leone, historians, both local and foreign, have frequently fixated on the notion of static, unchanging ethnic identities, perpetuating a flawed understanding of the nation’s history. This approach has obscured the dynamic, multi-ethnic realities of Sierra Leone’s pre-colonial and colonial eras, hindering efforts to forge a cohesive national identity.
Central to this misrepresentation is the colonial framework of the Colony versus Protectorate dichotomy. This binary, steeped in racist assumptions, not only posited the superiority of the Colony—comprising Freetown and its environs—over the Protectorate’s hinterlands but also entrenched a hierarchy of peoples and cultures. It placed Western values at the apex, relegating indigenous African societies to the margins. This insidious colonial legacy continues to shape intellectual discourse and popular conversations in contemporary Sierra Leone, perpetuating division rather than unity. To build a renewed Sierra Leone, we must decisively reject this colonial paradigm and its divisive implications.
The date of 27 April 1898 holds profound significance in Sierra Leone’s history. It marks not only the formal consolidation of Sierra Leone as a modern nation-state under British colonial rule but also the eruption of armed resistance against imperial domination. Contrary to popular narratives, Sierra Leone’s modern identity did not begin in 1808 with the establishment of the Crown Colony, imposed by zealous imperialists proclaiming the triad of Commerce, Christianity, and Civilisation as their governing ethos. Rather, it was the events of 1898—specifically the so-called Hut Tax War—that crystallised the nation’s nascent spirit of resistance and unity.
The 1898 insurrection, often mischaracterised in colonial and nationalist historiography, comprised two major uprisings: one in February and another in April, which persisted until the year’s end. These rebellions, unfolding in the ‘North-West’ and ‘South-East’ of the Protectorate, united diverse communities in a shared struggle against foreign imposition. The resistance was not merely a reaction to the punitive hut tax imposed by the British; it was a bold assertion of sovereignty by a coalition of multi-ethnic polities. Supplies and materiel flowed from the ‘South-East’ to the ‘North-West’, sustaining the heroic campaign led by Bai Bureh of Kasse, a warrior whose name remains synonymous with defiance.
Far from being ‘tribal’ entities, as imagined by colonial ethnographers and Africanist scholars, the polities that waged war against the British were complex, multi-ethnic states, incorporating diverse linguistic and cultural groups. The solidarity displayed by leaders such as Kai Londo and Alimamy Suluku, who provided men and resources to Bai Bureh, exemplified a burgeoning national consciousness. This coalition transcended ethnic boundaries, embodying the spirit of a nation-in-the-making. The 1898 insurrection was, in essence, a collective stand against an imperial invasion, its sacrifices forging the foundations of Sierra Leone’s national identity.
It is no coincidence that, during the era of decolonisation, Sierra Leone’s nationalists chose to symbolically reclaim 27 April as a unifying national emblem. The Peoples Party, Sierra Leone’s oldest political party, was founded on this date, embodying the spirit of unity and resistance that defined the 1898 uprisings. This party, through its motto ‘One Country, One People’, captured the inclusive ethos of the insurrection, uniting disparate groups—feudal chieftains, liberal professionals, and middle-class activists—in a shared vision for the nation.
The formation of the Peoples Party was a testament to this unity, forged through the merger of Lamina Sankoh’s People’s Party (PP), Dr Milton Margai’s Sierra Leone Organisation Society (SOS), and Dr John Kerefa-Smart’s Protectorate Educational Progressive Union (PEPU), of which Siaka Stevens was a prominent member. This coalition bridged the divide between the Colony and Protectorate, encompassing citizens from the Western Area and beyond. The party’s inclusive platform reflected the spirit of 1898, rejecting the colonial hierarchies that had long divided Sierra Leoneans.
The appropriation of primary resistance as a mobilising force against colonial domination is a recurring theme in African nationalist movements. From Algeria, where the Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) drew inspiration from Abd al-Kadir’s 1831 resistance to French rule, to Zimbabwe, where the ZANU/ZAPU alliance invoked the spirit medium Nehanda and the First Chimurenga of 1896 to fuel the Second Chimurenga, the legacy of early resistance has been instrumental in shaping national identities. In Sierra Leone, the 1898 insurrection provided a similar script, animating the struggle for independence and informing the nation-building project.
The selection of 27 April 1961 as Sierra Leone’s independence day was a deliberate act of historical reclamation. It elevated the date from a marker of resistance to a symbol of national unity, consciously tying the birth of the independent nation to the sacrifices of 1898. Notably, this choice prevailed over Dr Milton Margai’s personal preference for 7 December, his birthday, underscoring the collective will to honour the nation’s shared history. From 1898 to 1961, 27 April evolved into a recurring motif, encapsulating the journey from primary resistance to the establishment of the Peoples Party and, ultimately, to flag independence.
Yet, the enduring lessons of 27 April extend beyond celebrating nominal freedom from colonial rule—a freedom tempered by the persistence of neo-colonial influences. Instead, the date should inspire a renewed commitment to the spirit of national unity that defined the 1898 insurrection. In a recent radio interview on 98.1 FM, President Julius Maada Bio invoked the example of the ROMENE community in present-day Port Loko District, offering a compelling illustration of this unity.
The ROMENE community, as recounted by President Bio, traces its origins to a group of veterans from the ‘South-East’ who joined Bai Bureh’s campaign in the ‘North-West’ during the 1898 insurrection. These soldiers fought and died for the ideals of sovereignty and resistance, and those who survived chose to remain, integrating into the local community rather than returning to their places of origin. Their story of sacrifice and adaptation serves as a powerful lesson in nation-building, demonstrating how shared purpose can transcend ethnic and regional divides.
The ROMENE community embodies a vision of Sierra Leone that rejects ethnicity and bigotry, erasing artificial distinctions between ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ or ‘indigenes’ and ‘settlers’. It represents a trans-ethnic, trans-national ideal, where every Sierra Leonean enjoys the right to live, work, and participate fully in any part of the country, irrespective of their origins. This vision challenges the ethnic-driven politics that have often defined post-independence Sierra Leone, where regional and tribal affiliations overshadow national identity.
The colonial legacy of a ‘tribalised’ state and society—rooted in the fiction of fixed ethnic territories—must be dismantled. Before colonial intervention, there were no Temne, Mende, Loko, or Limba ‘lands’ or states; these were multi-ethnic polities engaged in inter-state, not inter-tribal, conflicts. The notion of exclusive ethnic territories is a colonial construct, designed to divide and rule. By embracing the ROMENE model, Sierra Leone can transcend these artificial boundaries, fostering a society where social citizenship is defined by shared humanity, not ethnicity or origin.
The scars of the 1898 insurrection, which alienated segments of the population, lingered into the post-1945 era, fuelling divisive debates in the press and the Protectorate Assembly. Yet, after more than six decades of independence, the imperative to heal these divisions and build a unified nation remains urgent. The ROMENE community offers a blueprint for this reconciliation, embodying the inclusive, multi-ethnic spirit of 1898.
In conclusion, 27 April should not merely commemorate independence but serve as a clarion call to deepen national unity. President Bio’s invocation of ROMENE challenges us to reimagine Sierra Leone as a nation where every citizen is free to belong, contribute, and thrive, unencumbered by the colonial legacies of division. To borrow the President’s words: can’t we just do ROMENE? By embracing this vision, Sierra Leone can honour the sacrifices of 1898, forging a future where unity, freedom, and justice—the pillars of the nation—are not just ideals but lived realities.
A version of this article was first published by Professor Ibrahim Abdullah in 2021.