mayo-tsanaga crisis: boko haram’s devastation and state neglect

Over 50 abandoned villages, thousands displaced, and a state that turns a blind eye.

The threat of Boko Haram is no longer distant—it has taken root in Cameroon’s Mayo-Tsanaga region. What began as a distant conflict in Nigeria’s Borno State in the early 2000s has now become a daily nightmare for local communities. By 2014, the jihadist group had crossed into Cameroon, striking first at the village of Tourou, near the town of Mokolo, where its fighters set up camp on Mount Gossi. Since then, the violence has escalated, leaving behind a trail of destruction.

Boko Haram’s attacks have spared no aspect of life in Mayo-Tsanaga. Homes, markets, places of worship, gendarmerie posts, schools, and health centers have all been targeted. The group burns, kills, loots, and kidnaps, while also destroying crops and livelihoods. For nearly 13 years, the region has been under siege, with communities forced to flee as their villages are abandoned one by one. Yet, despite the relentless suffering, the response from the Cameroonian state remains shockingly inadequate.

From Mokolo to Koza and across Mayo-Moskota, the landscape is one of unprecedented abandonment. More than 50 villages in the region have been fully or partially deserted, including Gossi, Tourou, Vizik, Ldamang, Magoumaz, Ldubam, and many others. The scale of displacement is staggering, with entire communities uprooted from their ancestral lands.

In May 2022, Mokolo’s fifth deputy mayor, Mahadek Nicolo Nouhou, presented a grim report to the Minister of Public Health, Manaouda Malachie, during the Rencontres fraternelles du Mayo-Tsanaga in Tourou and Mokolo. He noted that ten villages had been completely abandoned, two were under Boko Haram control, and seven others faced regular attacks. Areas like Gossi, Toufou 1 and 2, Roum, and Hitawa—once thriving communities—now stand empty as residents flee for their lives.

Since then, the situation has worsened. Residents of Tourou express their despair: “We are left to fend for ourselves, wondering why our local leaders and the government remain silent. Do the people of Mayo-Tsanaga not count as true citizens of Cameroon?”

For over a decade, fear has dictated daily life. Men flee at night, seeking refuge in the mountains, while women and children remain hidden in caves to avoid attacks. At dawn, they return to tend to their fields, only to face the next wave of violence. The Cameroonian military’s presence is minimal—often just a handful of soldiers in villages like Ldamang and Ldubam, where two soldiers were overwhelmed during a June 2026 attack. Local vigilance committees, armed with little more than machetes, are left to confront heavily armed terrorists.

The silence of local elites is complicit. Despite their influence and promises during election campaigns, they vanish when villages burn and lives are lost. Ministerial visits and empty declarations do little to stem the tide of destruction. Meanwhile, Boko Haram’s attacks continue unabated, leaving residents to ask: “When will this crisis become a national priority?”

The humanitarian toll is devastating. Over 9,000 people displaced by Boko Haram remain unable to return home, with the number rising as attacks persist. In early June 2026 alone, the International Organization for Migration recorded 482 new internally displaced persons—78 households—fleeing from Mokolo, Koza, and Mayo-Moskota. The crisis has spilled into neighboring departments, such as Mayo-Danay, where nearly 300 displaced families sought refuge in Kalfou, over 200 kilometers from Mokolo. This exodus underscores the severity of the humanitarian emergency.

Those who flee leave behind everything—lands, homes, and even documents reduced to ashes. The most heartbreaking consequence, however, is the separation of families. In the chaos of attacks, parents and children are torn apart, some left behind in the panic. Children and adolescents, left to fend for themselves, face a bleak future: dropping out of school, turning to crime, or falling victim to exploitation. Young girls, in particular, see their prospects of education and a better life vanish overnight.

Mayo-Tsanaga is being hollowed out. Agriculture is collapsing, schools are closing, and the local economy is crumbling. If nothing changes, the region faces irreversible depopulation. The state cannot afford to ignore its citizens simply because they live far from Yaoundé. The question lingers: How many more villages must be abandoned before this crisis becomes a national emergency?