22/10/2025
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐๐ฏ๐น๐ถ๐ฐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ: ๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ผ๐ป ๐ ๐ถ๐๐๐ผ๐ผ๐ธ ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ๐๐ถ๐๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ฝ
By Dr Lawrence Mwelwa
There comes a time when a nation must confront not its enemies, but its reflection. Cameroon today stands before such a mirror โ a land of music, intellect, and divine mountains, yet burdened by the silence of its institutions and the long shadow of one man.
Paul Biya has ruled Cameroon since 1982 โ longer than most of its citizens have been alive, longer than the internet has existed in Africa, longer even than the collective memory of what genuine political change feels like. His reign, now in its fifth decade, has transcended politics and entered the realm of mythology โ where power no longer seeks legitimacy but longevity.
From his European retreat, Biya governs like a ghost emperor โ present in decree, absent in flesh. The absurdity of this arrangement is not lost on his people. They speak of a president who rules from Switzerland, a nation governed by post, signature, and proxy. The irony is cruel: the man who has outlived coups, crises, and colonialism appears immune to time itself โ yet his people are not. They decay in poverty, forgotten by the palaces of Yaoundรฉ and the luxury suites of Geneva.
And now, another election โ another ritual of democracy performed without its spirit. The Electoral Commission, which ought to be the temple of fairness, stands accused of serving as a clerk of power, not its guardian. Opposition leaders, barred or bullied, find themselves spectators in a contest whose results were whispered long before ballots were cast. The Constitutional Council, whose robes should bear the stains of conscience, instead cloaks itself in obedience. It validates what the people do not believe, and in doing so, it becomes a shrine of silence rather than a court of justice.
How, then, shall one speak of transparency where the glass itself is tinted? How shall we speak of fairness when the field tilts toward eternity? Biyaโs Cameroon has become a portrait of political fatigue โ a nation where hope is rationed and truth is negotiated. Patriotism, once the love of oneโs country, has been replaced by loyalty to one man. Tyranny, dressed in the suit of stability, has learned to smile at the world and call itself order.
The question is not whether Paul Biya has outstayed his welcome. The question is what kind of people allow power to outlive purpose. Every dictatorship is born not from strength but from surrender โ the surrender of intellect, courage, and moral outrage. The Cameroonian people have endured more than four decades of political hypnosis, where elections come and go, but the ruler remains.
Yet within this darkness, the spark of awakening glows faintly. The youth, weary of waiting, begin to whisper words that dictators fear most: enough. The Anglophone regions, still bleeding from neglect and violence, demand not separation but justice. Civil servants, soldiers, and students alike begin to see the absurdity of a system that glorifies age while crucifying change.
Cameroonโs tragedy is not that Biya rules โ it is that the institutions meant to restrain him have chosen servitude over sacrifice. The electoral board counts ballots but not consciences; the Constitutional Council counts votes but not voices. The very organs of democracy have become its undertakers.
But history has a strange way of redeeming nations that lose their way. The rivers of Yaoundรฉ still flow; the drums of Douala still beat; the mountains of Buea still whisper to the wind that freedom delayed is never freedom denied.
One day, the people of Cameroon will awaken and discover that power, no matter how old, cannot outlive truth. When that day comes, the long shadow of Biya will finally meet the dawn โ and the nation, long divided by fear and fatigue, will rediscover the sacred meaning of the word patriotism: love not for a ruler, but for a republic.
