By Karamoh Kabba
In the quiet hills of Kumaro Town, Nimikoro Chiefdom, Kono District, a silence too heavy to be natural has settled. Not the silence of peace, but the kind that follows a scream muffled by dirt, bureaucracy, and fear.
On the surface, the Gold Lion mining site, formerly Wongor Investment, appears abandoned. But beneath that surface, rumors swirl like dust in a shaft: nearly 100 young men, allegedly trapped underground after a tunnel collapse.
The official line? “No incident. No missing persons. No activity.” The police say they investigated. The company says nothing happened. The government says… nothing at all.
But the people of Kono know when something isn’t right. They know that some of their kin who dared into the tunnel in search of livelihood never returned. And they also know that those who did return came back dead, bruised, traumatized, and too afraid to speak.
A local authority in Nimikoro Chiefdom, who requested anonymity, confided that a mining manager, also unnamed, admitted to knowing of at least seven deaths. A man known as Alhaji Amara Musa said, “My brother’s son went into the shaft and he’s still unaccounted for.” The father of Osman Abu, Alhaji’s nephe, is too afraid to talk. “Osman was a talented artiste, but he’s no more “ Alhaji said. “His three days funeral ceremony has been held in silence”, the father said.
One woman showed me a photo of a lifeless young man recovered from the rubble and whispered, “This guy… he was the contractor who built my house.” A youth activist in the chiefdom stated plainly: “Many young people are buried in that collapsed tunnel.” Photos of dead illicit miners are now circulating across Kono’s social media forums.
The Anatomy of a Cover-Up?
Let’s examine the pattern: Rapid denial by authorities, like in the drugs suspicion cases, before full community consultation. No public statement from the Ministry of Mines or the EPA, despite prior concerns about Gold Lion’s environmental and safety record. No independent verification from SLAJ, civil society, or international observers. No names released. No rescue effort mobilized. No forensic audit of the tunnels.
If this were a hoax, it would have collapsed under scrutiny. But instead, scrutiny itself was discouraged. And the story begins when even the townspeople are afraid to mourn their dead. One group went to sympathize with the community, but the gifts were rejected. The response? “We have no funeral here.”
The Ghosts of Gold Lion
This site’s legacy is layered; There’s a Community Development Action Plan (CDAP) that elders say was never honored. A Mine Closure Plan that stalled in consultation against the provision of the Mines and Minerals Act. A history of unsafe tunnels, poorly rehabilitated and left to rot beneath the soil. Now, whispers say those tunnels gave way. Young illicit workers, desperate for survival, entered illegally. That the collapse was real. And that the silence is strategic.
What If It’s True?
If even one life was lost and the state chose silence over rescue, then we are not just dealing with negligence, we are dealing with betrayal. If 100 lives were lost, and the truth buried with them, then Sierra Leone must reckon with a moral collapse far deeper than any mine shaft.
What Comes Next?
I do not claim certainty. But I claim urgency. An independent investigation must be launched immediately. Community testimonies must be protected and amplified. Gold Lion’s tunnel maps and safety records must be released.
And the government must speak; not just to dismiss, but to account. Perhaps this reckoning will come after the President’s scheduled visit to Kono this weekend. Perhaps he has not yet been fully briefed. Perhaps, the silence is deliberate to prevent his visit from muddled story of calamity he’s not prepared for. But the time for silence is over. We are not objects, we are a people of Kono District and the Kono tribe
Until then, the hills of Kumaroh are not quiet. They are screaming, with the trapped souls of once-young, once-hopeful Sierra Leoneans. And Sierra Leone must listen.
