By Hans Ngala
The issue of emigration to the US and Europe has gathered new-found steam, especially with the election of Donald Trump last November and his subsequent inauguration in January this year.
The issue of emigration has been center stage of this conversation, with some Cameroonians celebrating the deportation of their fellow Cameroonians from the US by the Trump government and calling for them to “stay and fix the country”. But those who say this and are back home in Cameroon, just how much “fixing” of the country have they themselves done?
In a country where corruption, bottlenecks and nepotism and tribalism are an open secret, just how does one rise above such a system?
Do the Cameroonians who really cheer the deportation of their fellow citizens from Western countries, really believe that the country will improve?
This is a complex issue that does not have a simplistic answer. We can look at other parts of Africa such as North Africa where the 2011 Arab Spring was spurred by dissatisfaction with rising costs of living and leaders who had been in power too long. Citizens in these North African countries got fed up with these issues and began protesting in the streets in their thousands, toppling regime after regime. The internet also helped as a rallying ground.
In Cameroon, it is a bit different with the disunity among citizens. Those from the North of the country tend to stick together among themselves and have been largely “appeased” by government appointments into high offices. Anglophones are agitating for greater autonomy – with some pushing for outright secession from French Cameroon and the Bamileke group is often seen by the central government as “suspects” that need to be treated with caution. With all these divisions and encampments, it is difficult to see how a unified coalition can be formed to bring about change in Cameroon. This disunity only helps 92-year-old Biya to strengthen his grip on power.
“Stay back and fix the country” – Really?
Most of those in Biya’s cabinet are longtime allies and he doesn’t care that they are in their 90s like him or in their 80s, 70s and the youngest are in their 60s. This is a clique of people who run the country based on obsolete ideas that are not especially relevant to the 21st century.
It is an uphill task for any Cameroonian youth to actually believe that they can bring about change in Cameroon – without rallying national support, risking arrest or even death against the hegemonic forces that have ruled Cameroon for 43 years now – and counting.
The illusion of homegrown solutions in a broken system
Cameroonians who celebrate deportations often do so from a place of pain, resignation, or false patriotism. They are either clinging to the idea that migration is an act of betrayal or expressing a kind of moral superiority: “we stayed, so should you.” But this kind of thinking ignores the nuances of what drives people to leave. It assumes that Cameroon offers a level playing field where young people can thrive, innovate, and grow when in reality, the system is rigged from top to bottom.
Take the job market, for instance. Thousands of university graduates roam the streets every year, certificates in hand, only to end up in underpaid internships or informal sector jobs that can’t cover basic living expenses. Recruitment into the civil service is often plagued by corruption and tribal favoritism, while entrepreneurship is stifled by heavy taxation, bureaucracy, and the lack of access to capital.
Young people who dare to speak out or organize are branded as rebels. Since 2016, the Anglophone crisis has shown just how far the regime is willing to go to silence dissent. Peaceful protests in Bamenda and Buea were met with bullets and arbitrary arrests. Journalists, lawyers, teachers, and students were thrown in jail, some never to be seen again. In such an environment, how realistic is the idea of “fixing the country” from within?
And while many Cameroonians romanticize the idea of staying back and building the nation, the elite class, including those preaching against emigration, often send their own children abroad. They own homes in Paris, keep bank accounts in Switzerland, and seek medical attention in Geneva. So, the question arises: who exactly is supposed to stay back and fix the country? The poor, disenfranchised youth who are constantly being told to wait their turn?
A broken contract between state and citizen
What we see in Cameroon is not just poor governance, but the total collapse of the social contract between state and citizen. A country where leaders rule without accountability and the people survive by adapting to a system designed to suppress them. In this context, migration becomes a form of protest, a vote of no confidence in a government that has long since stopped caring.
But even more tragically, deported Cameroonians often return to a society that offers them no reintegration programs, no mental health support, and no opportunities. Some are stigmatized, mocked, or viewed as failures. Others spiral into depression or crime. These are not just policy failures, they are moral failures by a nation that has turned its back on its own people.
Fixing the country is a shared responsibility that needs good leadership
True change in Cameroon will not come from moralizing those who leave. It will come when those who stay, those who return, and those in the diaspora work together to demand better. The call to “fix the country” should not be a whip used to shame the desperate, rather, it should be a rallying cry to uproot the rot at the center of our governance.
Until there is political will to reform, until leaders open up space for youth, and until national unity is prioritized over tribal loyalty, the exodus will continue. Cameroonians don’t flee because they hate their country. They flee because they have been made to feel like strangers in it.
So, the next time someone says, “They should stay and fix the country,” we must ask: who broke it and who is really benefitting from keeping it that way?
