From Douala to Yaoundé, from Garoua to Bafoussam, the streets are echoing with the same frustration Ambazonians have voiced for years: “Enough is enough!”
The people of La République — long silenced by fear and propaganda — have finally joined the chorus of discontent.
By Ali Dan Ismael, Editor-in-Chief, The Independentist on special assignment
A Regime on Fire
Douala Sunday, October 26, 2025 – There is fire on the mountain in La République du Cameroun — not the kind that burns forests, but the kind that burns illusions. For over four decades, President Paul Biya and his loyal courtiers built a golden cage where corruption danced with power and loyalty was rewarded above honesty. Today, that cage is melting under the heat of reality.
From Douala to Yaoundé, from Garoua to Bafoussam, the streets are echoing with the same frustration Ambazonians have voiced for years: “Enough is enough!” The people of La République — long silenced by fear and propaganda — have finally joined the chorus of discontent.
But as the flames spread, the guardians of the old order are nowhere to be found. Where are the so-called patriarchs of unity — Felix Mbayu, Peter Mafany Musonge, Paul Tasong, Philemon Yang, Dion Ngute, Ngolle Ngolle, Paul Atanga Nji, and Fuh Calistus Gentry? The men who spent decades defending tyranny now vanish into shadows. Their silence is louder than the chants of the protesters they once condemned.
The truth is as simple as it is painful: the system they served has collapsed, and its architects are running from the ruins.
The Caretakers of a Burning Asylum
For forty years, the regime resembled an asylum — a place where madness passed for order and obedience was mistaken for patriotism. Its caretakers were rewarded not for competence but for complicity. They called the oppressed “terrorists,” branded every cry for justice as rebellion, and sold “national unity” like expired medicine to a dying patient.
Now the asylum itself is in flames, and the caretakers have become the patients.
Even the most loyal insiders whisper privately: “Maybe it’s time to vacate the asylum.”
But vacate to where? The embassies that once hosted their shopping trips now issue warnings. Their Swiss hospitals are watching the smoke. The same international community that ignored Ambazonia’s cries is now forced to witness the implosion of its French-speaking darling.
The High Priests of Silence
When the streets erupted, the pulpits stayed quiet. Archbishop Andrew Nkea and Bishop Michael Bibi, once revered as men of conscience, have become the high priests of silence. They deliver sermons about peace without naming the oppressor; they pray for unity while dining with those who destroyed it. To the faithful, their neutrality feels like betrayal — a moral abdication disguised as diplomacy.
From the cathedrals of Buea and Bamenda, where the smoke of candles mingles with the memory of burned villages, the Church has chosen to bless the status quo. The shepherds have kept their robes spotless while their flock bleeds in the dust.
And what of the Fons and Chiefs — the so-called custodians of ancestral dignity? For decades they have traded their royal beads for government stipends, their voices for motorcades, their honour for handshakes. They are now eternal beggars in royal robes, clapping for the same empire that dismantled their kingdoms. When the villages of their ancestors were burned, they looked away. When their people were displaced, they attended banquets. They were not neutral; they were complicit.
The Senators and Parliamentarians Who Sold Blood for Cash
In Yaoundé’s marble chambers sit men and women who have long perfected the art of betrayal. The senators and parliamentarians from the occupied Southern Cameroons wear tricolour sashes over invisible bloodstains — the blood of their own people, traded for privilege.
When soldiers razed villages, they called it “security operations.” When teachers and lawyers were arrested, they called it “discipline.” When the Biya regime massacred civilians, they raised no motion and passed the next budget. Their silence became their currency, and they spent it lavishly.
Today, as the protests spread and the streets of Douala and Yaoundé tremble, many of them have disappeared from public view — silent, shaking, or abroad. Their diplomatic passports may shield their bodies, but not their names. History is already drafting the indictment.
Francophones Now Crowdfunding Weapons
In one of the strangest twists of the Cameroonian story, Francophone citizens — once the regime’s most loyal cheerleaders — are now crowdfunding weapons on social media for “self-defense.”
The same Facebook and WhatsApp groups that once called Ambazonians “terrorists” are now raising money for guns, and the world calls it “civil protection.”
The hypocrisy is breathtaking. For years, Ambazonian communities were censored, banned, and hunted online for expressing the right to self-defense. Now, as Francophones turn their guns inward, Western embassies describe the crisis as “a developing internal security concern.”
The same double standard that defined the colonial relationship between France and its African territories has resurfaced — this time in real time, on social media. It exposes what Ambazonians have long argued: that justice in the Franco-African order is not blind; it is biased.
Where Is the “Terrorist Hunter” Now?
And then there is Emmanuel Nsahlai — the self-styled “terrorist hunter” and international lawyer based in Los Angeles. For years he made a career out of suing Ambazonian activists, branding them as “terrorists” and aligning himself with the propaganda machinery of Yaoundé. He became a celebrity of the regime’s diaspora network, celebrated in press statements and talk shows for “fighting separatists.”
But as the regime he defended begins to crumble, Nsahlai’s voice has disappeared. Where is the man who once saw “Amba Boys” under every tree?
Why has he not filed lawsuits against the Francophone groups now fundraising for weapons in Douala and Yaoundé?
Perhaps because his own house is on fire.
Mr Nsahlai is reportedly now more concerned about the unfounded “terrorist” label that has landed his own case in hot fire in California, where the misuse of U.S. anti-terrorism laws is drawing legal and ethical scrutiny. More cases are expected to follow — lawsuits that may redefine the very narrative he helped construct.
Like his benefactor, the CPDM Corporation, the hunter may soon become the hunted. His silence is no longer strategic; it is instinctive. The machinery of fear he helped oil is now grinding to a halt, and it devours its own builders first.
The Collapse of the Myth
The illusion of unity has shattered. The myth that Ambazonia was the problem has crumbled.
Today, it is clear that the system itself — built on deception, maintained by fear, and financed by foreign complicity — was the real ticking bomb.
The current wave of protests exposes not just political fatigue but moral bankruptcy.
A regime that mocked Ambazonian resistance now faces the same fire from within, with its own citizens demanding accountability.
The irony could not be sharper: those who once applauded the crackdown on Ambazonia now demand freedom with the same words they once condemned.
The Vindication of President Samuel Ikome Sako
Every fact emerging from the chaos vindicates President Dr Samuel Ikome Sako’s long-standing position — that tyranny cannot masquerade as unity and that the right to self-determination is the foundation of peace. When he argued that Ambazonia’s struggle was a fight for legality and survival, many dismissed him as radical.
Now, the same principles he defended are being echoed in the streets of Yaoundé and Garoua.
The Kansas City Three case, once mocked by detractors, now stands as a slam dunk for international vindication. It exposes the fraudulent use of terrorism narratives against legitimate activists and proves that Ambazonia’s legal case was not fantasy but foresight.
Dr Sako’s consistency, rooted in law and morality, contrasts starkly with the chaos now consuming La République. His message — that truth may walk on crutches, but it always catches up with the lie — has become prophecy.
The Final Scene
La République du Cameroun now resembles a once-proud mansion with broken windows — its tenants fighting each other, its guards turning their guns inward, its caretakers searching for the exit.
The fire that started in Ambazonia has finally reached Yaoundé.
As the smoke rises, it reveals what was buried for decades under diplomatic smiles, priestly blessings, and royal handshakes: a state hollowed out by deceit, sustained by silence, and collapsing under its own weight.
The clergy prayed for peace but refused to condemn the killers. The chiefs begged for favours while their people died in exile. The politicians sold their people’s future for cash. And the so-called “terrorist hunters” built careers on lies that can no longer stand.
Now the regime’s beneficiaries are discovering that fire is an equal-opportunity destroyer. Their wealth cannot buy water, their titles cannot shield them, and their passports cannot outfly the truth.
Epilogue: When the Lie Runs Out of Breath
This is not vengeance; it is vindication.
For Ambazonians, the events unfolding across La République confirm what history had already written in invisible ink: you cannot suppress truth forever, you can only postpone it.
The fire that burns lies will always light the path of truth. And as the empire of deceit collapses into its own ashes, the message echoes across the continent: You can silence a people, but you cannot bury their cause.
Ali Dan Ismael, Editor-in-Chief, The Independentist on special assignment
