Louisiana Township, Montserrado County – Beneath the baking sun of Hipco Valley in God’s Grace Community, the rhythmic clang of hammers hitting stone fills the air. Here, among the dust and gravel, men and women chip away at rocks — not only to break them into marketable fragments, but to hold together the fragments of their own livelihoods.
By Augustus D.R. Bortue
Sekou Kromah, Chairman of the rock crushers in this overlooked corner of Montserrado County, wears the fatigue of hard labor and economic despair. Speaking to FrontPage Africa on April 28, 2025, Kromah summed up the collective struggle of his trade:
“Life is becoming very unbearable for us the rock crushers… The buying is very slow.”
Rock crushing is more than work in this community — it’s survival. With unemployment soaring across Liberia, and formal jobs out of reach for most, many families turn to informal labor. In Hipco Valley, crushing stones for construction is one of the few options available.
Yet, even this backbreaking work is becoming unsustainable.
Once a reliable trade, the rock market has slowed dramatically over the past two years. Demand has waned, and with it, the ability of families to meet basic needs. “We hardly get customers to buy our rocks, which we and our children depend on for livelihood,” Kromah says. “Before then, the business used to go faster.”
A 25kg bag of crushed rock sells for just 200 Liberian Dollars — roughly one U.S. dollar. In some cases, desperate sellers accept as low as 150 LD just to make a sale. After labor, transport, and time, many rock crushers find themselves earning far less than they invest. “We carry the rocks to the roadside every day, but at the end of the day, we don’t even get back what we put in,” Kromah laments.
The strain is felt across families. Children are often seen alongside their parents, either helping with the crushing or transporting stones. With an estimated 80% of parents in Liberia unemployed or underemployed, many families are forced to choose between sending children to school and keeping them home to help put food on the table.
Worse yet, the looming rainy season threatens to wipe out what little business remains. “During the rainy season, we will be completely out of business,” Kromah explains. “Buyers don’t come during that time. It’s only the dry season that we manage to make some sales.”
With their backs against the wall, the rock crushers are making a plea — not for handouts, but for support that can sustain their trade. “We need help from the government,” Kromah appeals. “We want loans with minimum interest to help us grow our business.”
It’s a call not just for financial aid, but for recognition. The rock crushers of Louisiana Township are part of Liberia’s silent workforce — citizens whose labor supports the country’s construction industry but whose struggles remain unseen.
If nothing is done, Kromah warns, many may soon abandon the trade entirely — not because they lack the will to work, but because the economics no longer add up.
As Liberia’s government maps its post-pandemic recovery and development agenda, voices like Kromah’s serve as a reminder: no national growth is complete without including those who build it — quite literally — from the ground up.
