A Long Walk to Guma Dam: Why Press Freedom Still Matters
- Mina Bilkis
- 19 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Over the weekend I walked for freedom. Quite literally by invitation of my feminist sister friend and journalist Eastina Taylor-Tucker. This walk was organized by Sierra Leone Reporters Union (SLRU) to Guma Dam on Saturday, May 2 2026 in Freetown.
Throughout the Long Walk to Freedom - no Nelson Mandela, other hikers and I received affirmations from fellow hikers of the viral sound 'Yakubu Manage'.
As we managed the ups and downs of the 90-minutes hike to the source of Freetown's water supply; Guma Dam, I had the opportunity to meet with several esteemed journalists, reporters and communications professionals across Sierra Leone's vast and layered media landscape and gain a broader idea of what World Press Freedom Day meant to them.
May 3 2026 is World Press Freedom Day and this year's theme is Shaping a Future at Peace: Promoting Press Freedom for Human Rights, Development, and Security. This date commemorates the 1991 Windhoek Declaration, which established principles for a free, independent, and pluralistic press and it is observed to raise awareness of the importance of freedom of the press and remind governments of their obligation to respect and uphold the values and right to freedom of expression in line with Article 19 of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
What became clear in those conversations along the hike is that press freedom is not an abstract ideal reserved for newsrooms. It is lived, negotiated, and increasingly contested.
When journalists are silenced, it is not only headlines that disappear. It is accountability. It is truth. It is the everyday citizen’s ability to question, to document and to be heard. The erosion of press freedom does not stop at the newsroom door. It seeps into our timelines, our conversations, and even our courage to speak, whether offline or online.
Globally, the picture is worsening.
"For the first time in the history of the Reporters Without Borders (RSF) World Press Freedom Index, over half of the world’s countries now fall into the “difficult” or “very serious” categories for press freedom. In 25 years, the average score of all 180 countries and territories surveyed in the Index has never been so low." - Reporters Without Borders (2026).
That decline is reflected not only in rankings but in lives lost. According to Reporters Without Borders, at least 67 journalists were killed in 2025, with Gaza being the deadliest location. Other estimates, including from the Committee to Protect Journalists in their February 2026 report, place the number as high as 129 media workers, making it one of the deadliest years on record. Hundreds more have been detained, gone missing, or are being held hostage.
The numbers tell one story, but the lived realities behind them tell another. Intimidation. Censorship. And voices gradually being pushed to the margins.
This global trend is also visible closer to home. Sierra Leone dropped from 56th place in the World Press Freedom Index in 2025 to 79th in 2026 and currently ranks 18th in Africa. Rankings do not tell the full story, but they do point to a shifting environment, one where the space for expression feels increasingly uncertain.
The implications are not distant. The recent cancellation of RightsCon in Zambia, a global convening of digital rights activists, journalists, and technologists, is a stark reminder of how fragile spaces for expression and dialogue can be.
When even spaces designed to protect rights and amplify voices are halted, it raises urgent questions about the environments we are operating in and the ones we are quietly accepting.
These patterns are not isolated. Across different contexts, including our own, there are growing tensions between expression and control, between speaking and staying safe. Often, these shifts are subtle, felt more than announced, but their impact is real.
And so, the walk to Guma Dam became more than a physical journey.
Each step, each shared laugh over “Yakubu Manage” each conversation with journalists navigating these realities, felt like a quiet act of resistance. What might have seemed like a simple hike unfolded as something deeper. A space to reflect, to connect, and to reaffirm a shared commitment to truth in a time when that truth is increasingly under pressure.
Standing at Guma Dam, taking in the stillness and the scale of it all, it was hard not to think about what sustains us. Not just water, but information, expression, and the ability to speak freely without fear.
Because press freedom is not only about those who report the news. It is about all of us who live with its consequences.
And like the climb to Guma Dam, the path toward protecting it may be steep, uneven, and at times uncertain, but it is one we cannot afford to stop walking.
