July 22, 2026
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mayo-tsanaga in crisis: years of boko haram terror with no state response

Abandoned villages, displaced families, and the deafening silence of an absent state.

Boko Haram’s terrorism is no longer a distant threat—it has taken root in Cameroon’s Mayo-Tsanaga region, where life has become a daily nightmare. Originating in Nigeria’s Borno State in the early 2000s, the extremist group crossed borders in 2014, striking first on Mount Gossi in the village of Tourou, just 35 kilometers from Mokolo.

Since then, hundreds of Boko Haram fighters have established a stronghold on Mount Gossi, launching relentless attacks. Villages burn. Lives are shattered. Homes are looted, women are violated, and children are kidnapped. No place is spared: fields, markets, places of worship, gendarmerie posts, schools, and health centers all bear the scars of these raids. Over nearly 13 years, the violence has only intensified. Entire villages stand empty, their populations massacred or forced to flee. Yet, despite the mounting toll, the response from the state remains conspicuously absent.

The once-thriving Mayo-Tsanaga is now a shadow of itself. More than 50 villages—including Gossi, Tourou, Vizik, Ldamang, Magoumaz, Dinglding, Chougoulé, Oupai, Houdahai, and many others—have been completely or partially abandoned. In May 2022, Mokolo’s fifth deputy mayor, Mahadek Nicolo Nouhou, presented a grim assessment to the Minister of Public Health, Manaouda Malachie, during the Mayo-Tsanaga Fraternal Meetings in Tourou and Mokolo: ten villages deserted, two under Boko Haram control, and seven more frequently targeted. Areas like Gossi, Toufou 1, Toufou 2, Roum, and Hitawa have become permanent hunting grounds for the insurgents, driving residents to abandon their homes in desperation.

We are left to fend for ourselves, wondering why our leaders and the government turn a blind eye to our suffering. Do we, the people of Mayo-Tsanaga, not matter as Cameroonians?” laments a resident of Tourou.

For over a decade, fear has dictated daily life. By night, men flee their homes; by day, they return to till the land. With no safe shelter, families take refuge in caves, sharing space with snakes and other dangers. It is only at dawn that they dare descend to work the fields. The state’s response? A handful of soldiers scattered across the region. During the June 18, 2026 attack on Ldamang and Ldubam—where villagers were wounded and abducted—the military presence amounted to just two soldiers. How can they possibly defend against heavily armed terrorists?

The local elite’s silence is not mere inaction—it is complicity. Despite their influence, these leaders remain conspicuously quiet as villages burn. Their presence is felt only during election rallies, where empty promises are made to sway votes. Yet when Tourou burns or Koza mourns its dead, these same figures vanish. Their silence is a political choice.

Ministers have visited, issued statements, and held “fraternal meetings.” But the attacks persist. Mokolo yesterday. Koza before that. And tomorrow? No one knows. No one can promise.

Since June 2026 alone, the International Organization for Migration has recorded 482 new internally displaced persons from attacks in Mokolo, Koza, and Mayo-Moskota. The crisis has spilled over into neighboring departments, with nearly 300 displaced families fleeing from Mokolo to Kalfou in Mayo-Danay—a journey of over 210 kilometers. These families have abandoned everything: homes, land, livelihoods, and even their dead. Identification papers and birth certificates are reduced to ashes in the rubble of their homes. The human toll is staggering: families torn apart, children separated from parents, and young people robbed of their futures. Some drop out of school, others turn to crime, and countless girls lose hope for a better life.

The Mayo-Tsanaga region is being emptied. Agriculture is collapsing. Schools are closing. The local economy is vanishing. Unless urgent action is taken, the region faces irreversible depopulation. The state cannot afford to ignore its citizens simply because they live far from Yaoundé. How many more villages must be abandoned before this crisis is treated as a national emergency?