Rep. Bility Raps on Leadership and the Weight of Promises -Releases Fresh Article on his ‘Letter from Saclepea’

MONROVIA – Leadership in Liberia, particularly public sector leadership, whether it’s in the Executive or Legislature, is not only about qualification, performance or otherwise. It is also, and perhaps more about charity, the ability to make promises about uplifting the welfare of the ordinary masses that attract huge following and to implement those promises. Nimba County District #7 representative Musa Hassan Bility in his thought-provoking social media column, “Letter from Saclepea”, explores the intricacy, and backlash, of making and keeping political promises.  See page 7 of this edition of The Analyst.

Saclepea, like many towns across Liberia, is a place of deep hope. Every election cycle, the people gather under the sun, listening to speeches that promise change, growth, and a better future. They stand in the marketplace, in town halls, and along the dusty roads, waiting to hear a leader tell them that this time will be different. And each time, they cast their votes, believing that maybe—just maybe—this leader will be the one to remember them, the one who will keep his word.

But as the years pass, the same questions echo in the streets, in the homes, and in the hearts of the people: Where are the roads that were promised? Where is the school that was supposed to be built? Where is the opportunity for young people, the jobs for the men, the support for the women who rise at dawn to make a living? The people do not ask for much—just the things they were told would come.

The weight of a promise is heavier than any man realizes. A promise is not just a word spoken in a speech, not just a slogan printed on a campaign banner. A promise is an agreement between a leader and the people who entrust him with their future. When a man tells his people that he will bring them clean water, that their children will sit in better schools, that the suffering they have endured for years will soon be lifted—he is not just making a statement. He is building trust. And when that trust is broken, the disappointment is not just personal; it is a wound that scars an entire generation.

Not long ago, there was a man who came to Saclepea with grand visions. He stood in the marketplace, shaking hands, eating with the people, and speaking of a future where no child would go hungry. He called himself a son of the land, a man who understood the struggles of the people because he had lived among them. He made them believe that he would return—not as a stranger, but as one of their own, a leader who would never forget his roots.

But time has a way of revealing the truth. As the seasons passed, so did the memories of those promises. The hands he once shook became distant. The market where he once stood grew silent. And the people who had once placed their hopes in him were left with nothing but the echoes of his words.

It is an old story, one that the people of Saclepea have seen too many times before. And yet, each time, they listen. Each time, they hope. Each time, they believe that maybe this leader, this time, will be the one who remembers his promises.

Leadership is not about the size of a man’s voice when he is campaigning. It is about the weight of his actions when the noise of the election fades. A true leader does not disappear into the comfort of high offices and forget the people who walked miles to vote for him. A true leader carries the burden of his words and understands that a broken promise is not just forgotten—it is felt in every unbuilt road, every darkened classroom, every empty stomach.

So I ask, to those who lead, and to those who will seek to lead: Do you remember the words you spoke when the people trusted you? Do you feel the weight of the promises you made? And to the people—how long will we continue to listen to words without demanding action? How many times will we allow our hopes to be played with before we realize that leadership is not about how well a man can speak, but about what he does when no one is clapping for him?

The weight of a promise is heavy. But the burden of broken trust is even heavier. Have a blessed weekend day.