Move On: Sierra Leone’s Politics of Survival

Move On: Sierra Leone’s Politics of Survival

By Melvyn Thomas

The Wailing Souls’ “Move On” sounds deceptively simple. Its message is built around a familiar reggae philosophy: life is hard, problems keep coming, but you have to keep moving. “Move on. Carry on. Life goes on.” But when that message is placed against the reality of everyday life in Sierra Leone, the song takes on a much darker meaning.

It becomes the soundtrack of a population being told to endure what should not have to be endured.

The song openly recognises that “life is not a bed of roses.” For ordinary Sierra Leoneans, that is not poetic language. It is lived experience. The struggle to put food on the table, pay rent, afford transportation, meet school expenses, keep a small business alive and support extended family has become part of everyday survival.

People hustle from morning until night, not necessarily because they are ambitious entrepreneurs, but because standing still can mean going without.

And this is where “Move On” becomes politically uncomfortable.

When people are repeatedly told to move on, there is a danger that society begins to celebrate their resilience while ignoring the conditions forcing them to be resilient in the first place.

The market woman is told to hustle harder. The young graduate is told to be patient. The unemployed man is told to keep looking. The small trader is told to persevere. The struggling family is told to have faith. Everybody is told to move on.

But move on to where?

The song’s observation that “everything is just the same every day” captures the frustration of people trapped inside an economic cycle that seems to reproduce itself. Wake up. Find money. Pay something. Borrow something. Sell something. Survive the day.

Then start again tomorrow.

That is not economic transformation. That is survival on repeat.

The song also carries a powerful message about personal responsibility: if you want something, you have to get out and get it. There is truth in that. Sierra Leoneans have always been resourceful. They trade, farm, fish, drive, build businesses, sell by the roadside and create opportunities where formal employment does not exist.

But there is a darker side to this celebrated hustle culture.

A country cannot build its future simply by telling its citizens to hustle harder. Hustling can keep a family alive, but it cannot substitute for decent jobs, productive industries, affordable education, reliable infrastructure and an economy capable of creating opportunities at scale.

Eventually, the question has to move from “What are ordinary people doing to survive?” to “Why are so many ordinary people being forced to survive this way?”

That is where the song’s message intersects with politics.

Politicians can easily praise the resilience of the people. They can celebrate the market woman, the street trader, the farmer and the young entrepreneur. They can tell citizens that better days are coming and urge them to remain patient.

But resilience should never become a political excuse.

People should not have to be heroic simply to afford the basics.

The song’s insistence that “as long as there is life, there is hope” therefore carries two meanings. On one level, it is a message of encouragement. No matter how bad things become, do not surrender. Get up tomorrow and continue.

But on another level, it is a reminder that hope itself can become exhausting when people have been waiting for change for too long.

For Sierra Leone’s young people, this tension is particularly painful.

They are constantly told that they are the future, yet many struggle to see a pathway from education to employment, from ambition to opportunity and from poverty to security. The danger is that when legitimate economic aspirations repeatedly collide with limited opportunities, frustration can turn into hopelessness, migration or desperate survival strategies.

That makes “Move On” more than an anthem of perseverance. It becomes an indictment of a society where ordinary people are expected to carry an extraordinary burden.

The reggae beat may be infectious, but underneath it lies a serious question:
How many times can you tell people to move on when the road itself never changes?

There is dignity in perseverance. There is courage in getting up every morning and trying again. But there is also a point at which perseverance must give way to accountability.

Citizens can move on from yesterday’s disappointment. They can carry on after today’s hardship. But governments, institutions and political leaders must also move on from the old politics of promises, patronage, excuses and short-term fixes.

Because the people have already been moving.
They have been moving for generations.
They have been hustling, struggling, adapting and surviving.

The real challenge is to create a Sierra Leone where “move on” no longer means simply finding another way to survive, but actually moving forward into a better life.

Until then, the Wailing Souls’ refrain takes on a bitter irony:
Move on. Carry on. Life goes on.

For millions struggling at the bottom, it does.

But the question is: how long must survival be mistaken for progress?