An Economic Epidemic

Nearly all study respondents perceived the state-imposed containment measures restricting their movement to have negatively impacted their economic security. While several participants discussed how they shifted their work dynamics to practice social distancing—for instance, by completing certain tasks at home—the majority did not have such flexibility. Many people described how border closures and lockdowns prevented them from traveling for business or to seek employment. As Kadiatu, a businesswoman, explained, “In the past I used to go to Guinea to buy market [goods] to come and sell, but when the sickness broke out, I was no longer doing the business. I got stuck and sat [remained at home]. That sickness stopped me from getting our living.” Others complained that they were unable to sell their crops in cities, and had to “hawk [peddle] them in the village at very low cost.” Several individuals described how, since they were unable to travel between their urban residences and familial farmlands, their crops rotted in the bush or became subject to theft. Gbassay, a young student, explained his predicament:

As this quotation demonstrates, due to pandemic restrictions, many residents faced impediments to agricultural routines which hindered their secure access to food. Restrictions on social gatherings also prevented some individuals from earning an income. For instance, Kai, a self-described entertainer and songwriter, bemoaned the impact the pandemic had on his ability to host concerts, which he depended upon to meet his financial needs:

Such testimonies reveal the obstacles that people faced working in a variety of industries.

Countrywide household lockdowns and curfews were described as being exceptionally difficult. People were unable to open their shops and restaurants or engage in trade during these times, and as a result many businesses failed. These instances were especially dire for those who depended upon the dreg (informal) economy, which required that they go out in search of their daily chop moni (food money). As a trader named Alfred described, “We are hustlers, our relatives survive on what we hustle for on a day-to-day basis, because we do not have reserves at the bank.” The economic toll engendered by strict containment measures appeared to have a trickle-down effect for those at the lower rungs of the economy. For example, those who depended upon loans from more economically stable benefactors or friends were particularly impacted since “everybody was tight up [financially stressed].”

Participants complained about rising unemployment in more formal sectors of the economy as well, especially as foreigners fled the country. As Unisa, a commercial bike rider, explained, “In Kono here, most of the NGOs [nongovernmental organizations] that we used to see before have folded up. They say… until after COVID-19 is over.” Several individuals noted the closure of a prominent diamond mining company in the area that used to employ many local people. “It is like the country is under siege,” Kai elaborated, “nothing is moving, investors are not coming in and looking at Sierra Leone.” Since Sierra Leone (and Kono, in particular) has long been a priority for foreign investors given its wealth in mineral resources, it was quite threatening to individuals when such enterprises began to fold.

As jobs were disappearing, the cost of living was simultaneously increasing because of the pandemic, exacerbating people’s economic troubles. Many individuals noted the rising cost of staple goods such as food, fuel, and cement. Electronics—the majority of which came from China—also experienced substantial price inflation. By May 2021, over a year into the pandemic, a clergyman named Thomas described the situation: “Now a fifty kilo bag of rice is up to SLL320,000 [approximately USD31]. We used to buy a bag of cement for SLL45,000 but now it has increased to SLL100,000… in the filling station fuel is now SLL10,000 a liter [~USD1].” Notably, price inflation only continued to worsen in light of global politics, namely Russia’s assault on Ukraine. When the first author visited Kono in June 2022, the cost of fuel had risen to SLL15,000 per liter, and in just one week jumped to SLL19,000 (nearly USD1.50). A bag of rice, which before COVID-19 would have cost about SLL200,000 (USD20), had risen to over SLL450,000 (USD35).

Rising inflation was coupled with the inability to access goods, due to both global and local supply chain interruptions. When visiting her friend Sahr’s shop, which prior to the pandemic had been full of food, drinks, and other items, the first author observed that the shelves now stood nearly barren. Another friend, named Amie, described how shortages at the government-run hospital meant that she now had to purchase her HIV medications on the private market. When her money dwindled, she and her daughter were forced to go without treatment.

Finally, because of the many economic challenges participants faced, the majority suffered from food insecurity, particularly during the lockdowns. In response to being asked about the greatest challenge stemming from COVID-19, a local teacher named Sia responded, “People were not getting sufficient food to eat, that was the most disturbing impact. That caused people to get sick, even if it might not be a result of corona, but a result of the hunger.” Again, by the summer of 2022 the situation had become substantially worse. Sahr described how his family had shifted from eating two times per day to having just one daily meal. Some days they went without food altogether. Several others described how, due to the rising costs of beef and fish, people were resorting to stealing and eating neighbors’ pets.

Separation and Social Suffering

In addition to the economic impacts of the pandemic, many individuals found the social ramifications to be just as distressing, if not more so. This was especially true for people who became separated from family and friends due to containment measures. In one particularly distressing case, a woman named Mariama was separated from her nine-year-old son, who was living in Freetown when he became sick with COVID-19. According to Mariama, he was “arrested like a thief” and taken to the hospital for isolation. “At that time there was no movement because of the district lockdowns… . so I was in great torment. I used to call every day to know the condition of my child… until the top-up [phone credit] ran out.” Fortunately, her son recovered, and once the borders reopened, she immediately brought him home, saying, “Now that my eyes have set on you, from here we are going direct to Kono, my foot your foot, if you lay down, I will lay down too.” Based on this traumatic separation, Mariama was unwilling to let her son go anywhere without her.

Participants noted other types of strains on social relationships because of the pandemic. Due to fear and high tensions, conflicts sometimes occurred between family members or neighbors. For instance, one respondent described the anger people exhibited when neighbors called the emergency 117 hotline to report illness within their household. Nearly a third of interviewees discussed conflicts within families; due to rampant poverty in Sierra Leone, many people rely upon relatives for financial or material assistance, but given the widespread impact of the pandemic, help was not always forthcoming, which created additional tensions. As Aiah, an IT technician, explained: “There are certain family members that I am expecting to help me [financially], but they are not doing it anymore because of COVID-19. Currently they are not even paying attention to me.” Similar conflicts arose among couples; several men, for example, complained about arguments with spouses that occurred when they were unable to provide financially for their families.

The inability to perform social norms and rituals was also perceived to be highly distressing. About a quarter of participants complained of the inability to socialize with or properly greet others. While acknowledging the need to change such behaviors to prevent the spread of disease, Bockarie, a teacher, described the predicament, saying, “In Africa when we shake hands with one another it means that you are like a brother or sister. But this [COVID-19] created barriers for me even to shake hands. Since the outbreak of the pandemic all these have been cut off, and some will refer to this as bad at (malice).” Children, too, were affected by shifting social norms. According to a father named Musa, his children “were feeling deprived, as if we shunned them, because there was not that kind of intimacy anymore.” Hence, containment measures caused social strains, and all members of the community were impacted, young and old.

Others were frustrated by the inability to carry out important cultural traditions, such as naming ceremonies, burials, or secret society initiations. Above all, people lamented the closure of churches and mosques and other restrictions on their ability to worship. Some felt strongly that their personal faith was being challenged, while others, especially religious leaders, worried about the nation’s fate. As Thomas, the clergyman, explained:

Other places where individuals habitually congregate to socialize and share information or resources—such as schools, tea shops, and football fields—were similarly closed, and as a result, people lost important sources of support and stress relief. The closure of schools was worrisome to many participants, who raised this issue across half of the interviews. Parents feared that their children would lose motivation, score poorly on state exams, fall behind on coursework, or that “their brains would start to collapse.” Speaking specifically to the West African Senior School Certificate Examination (WASSCE), which is the transition exam administered after senior secondary school, a mother named Kumba complained, “Our children who were to sit [take] the WASSCE exams were set back for two years, like my own kid, she has been sitting down [waiting] for seven good months, and they say go and sit exams! What do you expect these children to go and write? The children are being brought backward. Oh, it is pathetic!” Other parents described how their children, frustrated by poor performances on an exam, or afraid to go back into the classroom once schools reopened, dropped out of school altogether.

With increased leisure time on their hands, participants expressed concern that youth were getting into more trouble. Kumba explained that, “if you are at home for one or two months without going to school… you may have some peer group that influences you into doing bad things and all that kind of stuff.” Another woman, Isha, complained, “So many of our girls have gotten unwanted pregnancies on the street because there is no school… Right now I have one of them, she is sixteen years old, who became pregnant all because of this corona crisis.” During the first author’s 2022 visit to Sierra Leone, people described a perceived increase in theft and other petty crimes. For example, during a visit with Sahr at his home one day, he described the need to maintain constant vigilance so that thieves would not steal the building materials from his house. He pointed across the yard to the local school, recounting how all the metal doors had been stripped from their hinges. Others spoke of soap, buckets, and hand sanitizer being stolen for resale. Finally, Sahr noted increased drug use among youth, who abused Tramadol (an opioid pain reliever) and a new chemically treated herbal substance called kush, “to ease their stress and hunger.” Clearly, the COVID-19 pandemic was having secondary, and even tertiary, implications for vulnerable individuals in this setting.

The Political Lives of Pandemics

The socioeconomic suffering resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic incited substantial political consequences, with individuals describing frustration and distrust toward the government and political others. On one hand, many people commended the administration for proactively imposing strict containment measures—something that had not been done during the Ebola epidemic, with dire consequences. Particularly at the beginning of the pandemic, people were fearful of disease spread and willing to make sacrifices to protect themselves and their countrymen. However, as the crisis wore on, and lives and livelihoods became increasingly strained, people’s tolerance for strict public health policies waned.

As Kai, the songwriter, complained, approximately nine months following the start of the pandemic, “For now people are fed-up with the use of masks. They have complied and complied and now they are fed-up. People want to go to entertainment places. People are requesting for the lifting of bans [on social events]. Everybody is just fed-up with all these rigid measures.” These sentiments seemed to coincide with a growing perception that the health risk posed by COVID-19 was less severe than health officials had first predicted. For example, several participants felt that COVID-19 was a “white sickness,” only affecting people in Western countries.

As a result, resentment grew, and participants became critical of their national leaders. Nearly one third of respondents expressed frustration related to the lack of material support provided by the government. These individuals felt that in light of the government’s decision to impose lockdowns and restrict people’s movement, it was also their responsibility to provide food, water, and other necessities, which were not forthcoming. As Gbassay, the student-farmer introduced above, noted, “There is not enough food and at the same time people really want to go to their land to farm… . But how can they go when there is a restriction on their movement? So, people find it very, very difficult, to the extent they started blaming the government, saying that the government is not doing well by the people.” Yusuf, who tested positive for COVID-19, complained that he had not received support comparable to Ebola survivors, saying:

When asked who was responsible for this discrepancy, Yusuf responded, “The government is responsible!” As these examples indicate, given a lack of economic compensation by the government for their stressors, many citizens felt abandoned.

Others complained that the government should be doing more, specifically to combat the rising costs of commodities, by instituting subsidies on items such as rice and fuel. Sahr, an APC supporter, compared the current SLPP administration to the former APC government, saying, “whereas the Koroma [APC] government subsidized the cost of things like fuel, the new government has removed the subsidies.” He also blamed the current administration for insufficient electricity in the district, claiming that the government was practicing favoritism by only supplying certain districts with adequate electricity.

In addition to complaints about the government’s failure to ease the country’s suffering, others identified specific forms of government corruption. For instance, in reference to international aid, Yusuf believed that “the government will eat the money. They will just use the money on their own personal use.” Similarly, in response to the banking crisis, a miner named Komba argued that, “if there is shortage of money in the country, the government is responsible because they are holding on to the monies… they are enriching themselves.” Komba also perceived the current administration as practicing favoritism when it came to pandemic-related jobs, saying, “If you are not in the ruling government party, you will not work. This has brought a lot of problems for them now because if you go to the [COVID-19] command center here in Kono, 99.9 percent of them are all SLPP and this is their first experience for job in pandemic. They are using this COVID as a political something.” Others accused the government of redirecting healthcare worker pay to select government ministers, while “those at the frontline are deprived from getting what they have worked for.” According to Sahr, “that is corruption, corruption in the highest degree.” For some, the government’s neglect in compensating and protecting frontline workers and prioritizing politics over pandemic response was perceived as particularly problematic.

Significantly, declining confidence in the government and distrust toward political rivals seemed to fuel the spread of rumors. Some participants, for example, noted cases where community members doubted the actual presence of COVID-19 in the country. As Dauda, a hospital worker, explained, “Those who are part of the APC party [the non-ruling party], some of them do not believe that COVID-19 in Sierra Leone is real. They will tell you that COVID-19 in other parts of the world is real, killing people there. But in our own country, it is because of the money they say we have COVID-19.” Dauda is referring to a popular rumor that the government “invented” a pandemic in Sierra Leone to attract international aid. Once vaccines became available, similar stories abounded that President Maada Bio had ordered the vaccines to make a profit off the population by using Sierra Leoneans as test subjects. The President even made a show of receiving the vaccine publicly to ease fear among his constituents; still, rumors circulated that this action had been faked. Sahr claimed that the whole purpose of the COVID-19 State of Emergency was to “destabilize and humiliate the opposition, the APC.” As he argued, in reference to the killing of five inmates at Pa Demba Prison by state guards in April 2020, “In a State of Emergency they [the SLPP government] could even kill you and answer to no one… they used the State of Emergency to do their bad tricks.” Some participants perceived the circulation of such rumors as highly problematic, for discouraging people from trusting health messaging or engaging in behaviors to prevent the spread of the disease.

Worse than Ebola: “There Are Not so Many Graves, but It Is Killing Us Slowly”

Given the many challenges posed by the pandemic, approximately half of the research participants described the COVID-19 pandemic as worse than the 2014–15 Ebola epidemic. Those who felt strongly that Ebola had been more detrimental generally emphasized the much higher number of cases and deaths and how it had spread so quickly at the onset of the outbreak. As one elderly mason named Alieu remarked, remembering the constant sound of ambulance sirens, the spraying of chlorine, the burial teams in their personal protective gear, and dead bodies in the street, “COVID did not have that kind of tempo compared to Ebola.” Those who perceived Ebola to be the more severe crisis tended to have been more personally impacted by the death of loved ones. For instance, one of these individuals had lost twenty-nine friends and family members, including his own mother, due to Ebola.

However, the widespread and long-lasting socioeconomic and political impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic were experienced by the entire population of Sierra Leone and, as a result, loomed large in people’s minds. As Kumba, the mother of the pregnant teenager described above, stated about COVID-19, “There are not so many graves, but it is killing us slowly.” Those who perceived COVID-19 to be more devastating than Ebola emphasized several factors. First, participants understood that while Ebola had been an epidemic—restricted for the most part to three West African countries—COVID-19 is a pandemic that, in the words of one participant, “has spread its tentacles all over the world.” That high-income countries in Europe and North America could be so devastated by the disease generated tremendous fear. As Dennis, a retired teacher, said:

Two individuals quoted the following proverb: usai wata de kamot for hot fayre, na de fayre kamot, which is roughly translated, “if fire catches at the water source, what will you do to quench the fire?” In other words, if those upon whom you once depended for survival are now themselves affected, to whom will you turn now?

The duration of the pandemic and the inability of the world’s most powerful countries to bring it under control, even after vaccines became available, also generated concern. There was a perception among many, especially considering the virus’s various waves and variants, that the crisis would never end. At the same time, because the entire world was occupied with the pandemic, there was a strong sense of having been abandoned by the international community that had never before been experienced. As Dauda, the hospital worker, explained: “The experience with COVID-19 here is so much worse than Ebola. It is really worrying to us because we were expecting some help from the international body. But if you consider COVID-19, it is everywhere. So who do you seek help from?” This same sentiment applied to family members living abroad, many of whom Kono residents were dependent upon for financial support. According to a student named Gladys, “When COVID-19 broke out, our brothers and sisters who are over there in the diaspora who used to help us, it was so worse for them, and those who used to send for us [money] were no longer doing it.” Typical financial support systems crumbled as COVID-19 riddled communities across the socioeconomic and geographic spectrum.

Participants also found the containment measures to be harsher during COVID-19 than those imposed during the Ebola epidemic. Not only were containment measures more severe, but so, too, were the repercussions of failing to abide by these policies. Many individuals complained about being harassed by police for failing to wear masks or for breaking quarantine protocols. Fatou, a businesswoman, recounted her experience:

Several participants also described instances when people who disobeyed government mandates were publicly beaten, even for minor infractions such as retrieving water during lockdowns. These situations were made worse by observations that police and government officials often failed to follow the protocols themselves.

As a result of these harsher containment measures, nearly all of the participants experienced more economic distress and food insecurity than they had during the Ebola crisis. Their suffering was particularly acute during the countrywide three-day lockdowns. A man who worked for a local radio station, for instance, recounted receiving more calls from people reporting that they did not have food or water, compared to the situation during the Ebola lockdowns. As a young hairdresser named Princess explained, “During the Ebola lockdown, first they would come around and write the names of people and supply them with provisions. We did not feel it as much as these recent lockdowns, where they even seized our lifestyle. Some didn’t even have enough to eat, and they didn’t supply us with water or anything else. We really suffered!” As a result of these difficulties, participants remarked that community members commonly breached quarantines to search for food and water.

Study participants also described increased difficulties finding work as well as the rising cost of living. Government-employed healthcare workers and teachers went without adequate pay for months, prompting strikes across the country. Banks ran out of money, which was unprecedented and, understandably, inspired panic. Furthermore, participants remarked that whereas the Ebola epidemic had brought with it jobs, the COVID-19 crisis had not. Bintu, a teacher in her late fifties, explained, “During Ebola there was the flow of money, and people were employed—grave diggers were there, the burial team was there… . The only thing about this COVID-19 is the economic hardship.” This “economic epidemic” that COVID-19 created has, significantly, worsened, even as case numbers have declined. As Kumba elaborated, “The economic waste it [COVID-19] caused us was great. It did not kill people as compared to Ebola, but it destroyed us. The stress that we are going through now has made everybody’s business brought backward.” Presently, while the international community has transitioned its focus to vaccinating the world’s population against coronavirus, Sierra Leoneans must deal with the indirect fallout of the pandemic alone.