By Ibrahim Kabba Turay

Nestled quietly between the borders of Sierra Leone and Guinea lies the town of Yenga a small, almost forgotten settlement that carries the weight of colonial legacies, unresolved border tensions, and the resilient spirit of a people torn between two nations. Often overlooked in international discussions and absent from most national headlines, Yenga symbolizes the harsh reality of many African border towns: invisible in policy, yet loud in cultural and historical significance.

For generations, Yenga has existed in a delicate limbo. Its geographical positioning places it directly along the disputed and often ambiguous boundary line between Sierra Leone and Guinea. As such, its inhabitants have been subject to an identity crisis not of their making. Are they Sierra Leonean? Are they Guinean? Or are they merely Yenga people citizens of a land claimed by both yet served by neither?

To understand Yenga is to understand the historical mistakes of colonial map-making. When European powers drew Africa’s borders during the Berlin Conference of 1884-85, they did so with little regard for the ethnic, cultural, or geographical realities on the ground. Sierra Leone and Guinea, both former colonies—British and French respectively became independent in the 1960s. However, the arbitrary lines drawn by their colonial masters were never truly reconciled with the lived realities of people like those in Yenga. To this day, maps and documents differ on where exactly one country ends and the other begins.

This ambiguity has had dire consequences. In 2021, a series of tense standoffs erupted near the Yenga region, leading to a deployment of military personnel by both Sierra Leone and Guinea. While full-scale war was avoided, the incident highlighted how fragile the peace in this area truly is. Local residents were caught in the crossfire, both figuratively and literally. Some fled their homes; others stayed, hoping praying that diplomacy would prevail over conflict. While the world moved on, Yenga remained scarred.

But beyond geopolitical disputes, Yenga suffers from a more insidious kind of neglect: developmental abandonment. Due to its contested status, neither Sierra Leone nor Guinea has invested meaningfully in the town’s infrastructure. Roads are mostly unpaved, schools are either understaffed or non-functional, and healthcare is virtually non-existent.

Access to clean water and electricity remains a distant dream. Inhabitants, many of whom speak both Krio and Susu, rely heavily on subsistence farming and petty trade, crossing back and forth between the two countries, sometimes illegally, just to survive.

It is this very resilience that makes Yenga so remarkable. Despite the hardship, the people of Yanga have built an identity rooted not in imposed nationality but in shared struggle and cultural unity. Families are intermarried across borders, and marketplaces are vibrant melting pots of Sierra Leonean and Guinean goods, customs, and languages. Religion, too, plays a unifying role, with mosques and churches serving as both spiritual centers and communal meeting points.

Yet, unity in adversity is no substitute for justice. The people of Yanga deserve more than just the romanticism of resilience; they deserve governance, recognition, and opportunity. It is unacceptable that in the 21st century, a town with such strategic and cultural importance remains a no-man’s-land. Both governments must rise above narrow national interests and prioritize the well-being of Yenga’s citizens.

There is, however, a glimmer of hope. Recent talks between Sierra Leone and Guinea have signaled a willingness to revisit the border issue, not from a standpoint of control, but cooperation. This is a welcome shift, and Yenga must be at the center of these discussions. Rather than be a flashpoint for conflict, Yenga can be a model for trans-border cooperation an African town that rises from the ashes of colonial error to become a beacon of unity.

Several steps must be taken to realize this vision. First, a joint border commission should be established with direct representation from Yanga’s community leaders. Their voices must not be sidelined in discussions that affect their land and lives. Second, a special development fund should be set up, jointly administered by Sierra Leone and Guinea, to improve infrastructure, health, and education in the region. Third, a dual citizenship policy could be explored, allowing Yanga residents to access services and benefits from both nations.

Furthermore, international organizations, including the African Union and ECOWAS, must play a more active role in mediating and monitoring developments in Yenga. These bodies have a moral and political obligation to ensure that African borders, while historically problematic, do not continue to be sources of strife and neglect. If Africa is to move forward, it must first heal the wounds of its divided past.

The media too must do its part. Yenga’s story needs to be told—not just when conflict erupts, but in times of peace, when the daily struggles of its people go unnoticed. Journalism must go beyond crisis reporting and shine a light on the systemic issues that plague towns like Yenga.

As a native of this region, I write not just with the pen of a journalist, but with the heart of a son. I have seen the beauty of Yenga in the laughter of children who play beside cracked wells, in the wisdom of elders who remember a time before borders, and in the hope of farmers who till the soil not knowing which nation they belong to. Yenga is more than just a town it is a testament to the African spirit, which endures, adapts, and dreams even in the harshest conditions.

The truth beyond Yenga is this: it is not merely a town caught between two countries; it is a mirror held up to the continent, reflecting both its broken past and its unfulfilled potential. What happens in Yenga matters not just for its residents, but for all of us who believe in the promise of a united, just, and prosperous Africa.

Let Yenga no longer be a border town abandoned, but a bridge between nations a place where history is acknowledged, justice is pursued and humanity is honored.