Yusuf Bangura (Switzerland): Sierra Leone Telegraph: 16 June 2025:
I’m very sad to learn about Kadi Sesay’s passing. She was not in good health after the massive stroke she suffered about ten years ago.
The tribute that is in circulation (“Farewell to a Trailblazer—Dr. Kadi Sesay (1949-2025)”) accurately summarises her rich life history: diligent, brilliant, and passionate about improving ordinary people’s lives. She was affable and a trailblazer in many areas of public life.
I first knew Kadi at the St. Edward’s Secondary School in Freetown where we both did our Sixth Form, but we were not very close. She was at Upper Sixth, a level above me at Lower Sixth. That was in 1968-69. It was very rare at that time for students in the two streams to closely interact. We didn’t share courses and activities.
We got to know each other better and bonded as family in London through her late husband, Mahmud Sesay. Mahmud and I, as well as four other Sierra Leoneans who were studying at the University of London, lived at International Hall—one of the university’s halls of residence. Five of us, including Mahmud, were at the LSE; and the sixth was at Imperial College.
Mahmud was about four years older than us and enrolled for an LLM degree. We were undergraduate students. He was clearly our leader and a source of wise counsel because of the maturity he demonstrated in discussions. Kadi often visited him from Sheffield, where she was studying literature and linguistics.
Mahmud rented a three-bedroom house at Finsbury Park after our graduation in 1974 and asked me to join him. I paid the rent for one of the rooms, and another student took the third room. I was in graduate school and Mahmud was enrolled in one of the Inns of Court for his bar programme and exam.
Kadi and Mahmud had their first child, Jane, in London not long after their marriage. She returned to Sierra Leone and started teaching at Fourah Bay College. However, Jane had developmental health issues.
Kadi returned to stay with Mahmud, while a series of tests were carried out on Jane. I still remember that stressful period when we were waiting for the results. I admired the calmness and grace with which they handled the distressing news.
During those early years, Kadi did not strike me as someone who was interested in public affairs or politics. She cut a figure of quiet confidence—always listening to our heated discussions and making few interventions when she felt compelled to do so.
It was Mahmud whom I thought would become a public figure and venture into politics. He read widely on public affairs and was fond of asking provocative questions to stimulate debate. I loved discussing controversial issues, so I became his sparring partner. He bought The Times newspaper every day; talked endlessly about his favourite columnist, Bernard Levin; and discussed the law reports in The Times. I bought The Guardian, and we exchanged newspapers to deepen our understanding of issues.
Mahmud passed away in 1988 after a long battle with hepatitis. He was only 42. It was a big shock. I couldn’t attend the funeral but travelled to Sierra Leone later that year and visited Kadi and her young daughter, Isha, at a store she had established at Victoria Street in Freetown. She had come to terms with the loss. She briefed me about the death and funeral, and we reminisced a lot about Mahmud.
The 1980s were a very difficult period in Sierra Leone. A single salary or wage was not enough to make ends meet. I admired her ability and dedication to combine academic work with entrepreneurship.
Kadi’s appointment as Chairman of the National Commission for Democracy by President Ahmad Tejan Kabbah pushed her into the public domain.
She ran the NCD effectively and competently and became a popular public figure, especially with civil society groups. One would be mistaken to believe that she was trained in political science as she excelled in the job.
She was an effective communicator and understood the key issues in driving the democracy project during the difficult war and post-war periods. I participated in one of the conferences she organised during her tenure.
I once asked her why she didn’t change her title to Chairperson or Chairlady of the NCD. Her reply was sharp and conveyed her determination to succeed in the job: “I’m comfortable with ‘Chairman’, and I think it’s appropriate for what I do’’, implying that she would be treated by the public for what she was, rather than as a woman.
She became a very different person after the NCD appointment. She was now au fait with public policy issues and eager to engage in discussions about politics and society whenever we met.
She mastered her brief and was articulate in public speeches and interviews. It’s not surprising that Tejan Kabbah appointed her at the end of the war as Minister of Trade and Industry, which, in the eyes of many, she handled very well.
She was deep into politics at that stage and aimed for the big prize—the presidency. Even though I was sceptical about her choices, I was impressed by her performance in the hustings when she decided to vie for the leadership of the Sierra Leone People’s Party in the run up to the 2012 elections.
She lost the leadership fight but was chosen as running mate by the winner—the current president, Julius Maada Bio. I didn’t believe she could make the transition to public life and politics so seamlessly.
When she was Chair of NCD, Kadi stayed with us in Nyon in the 1990s for a few days, after attending a conference in Geneva. I recall an interesting discussion we had during her visit. We were out in our garden enjoying a barbecue, and the children were playing with other kids in the neighbourhood. The kids would join us briefly with their friends to eat some of the food and drink, and rush back to play.
Kadi noticed that our son, Bangali, who was about five or six years old, could juggle three languages—French, English and Themneh. He spoke French to his friends, translated French into English for two kids who were also visiting, and spoke Themneh to us.
Kadi was pleasantly surprised. She turned to me and explained the research she was doing in linguistics before she got the NCD job and remarked that Bangali would have been a perfect case for her study. Her research was about how languages borrow foreign words and expressions, and how traditional African and European languages influence the structure of Creole languages, or Krio in the case of Sierra Leone.
She reeled off a number of examples I hadn’t thought about: such as, use of double negatives in Krio and Themneh (‘Ar nor sabi natin’/‘ee teh koko’ for ‘I don’t know anything’ in English), and expressions that are peculiarly African (‘ee geh bele’/‘ee kor’ in Krio and Themneh respectively). A literal English translation of the latter would be ‘she has a tummy’, instead of ‘she’s pregnant’.
The last time I saw Kadi was in 2013, when Jane passed away. I had relocated to Sierra Leone and was teaching at FBC. My wife, Kadie, and I visited her at her home at Hill Station to commiserate with her. We attended Jane’s funeral at the Hill Station Mosque and burial at Kingtom cemetery.
Sierra Leone has lost a formidable and dignified public personality. My deep condolences to Isha and Mahmud jr., as well as their extended Sesay and Conteh families. May she rest in eternal peace.
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