Tensions are rising. And while I can’t call that a win, I can say it’s understandable, maybe even necessary.
Before sharing this, I had to pray. Because this isn’t about me, it’s about sharing a lesson that’s been growing in my heart for the past year, one that the Holy Spirit has been teaching me through my anger, confusion, and faith.
Last year, when Trump won, I was deeply angry, less about the outcome and more about what it revealed about humanity, and the way Christianity was being warped to legitimise a regression into hate. But God showed me the unexpected benefit in this: some things have to come into the light before they can be healed.
What we’ve been witnessing, the rise of the far right, the open displays of racism, sexism, and intolerance, etc., these things didn’t appear out of nowhere. They were already there, festering in silence. Those who called themselves “liberal” or “progressive” thought they were winning, but were only louder, not more convincing. People’s minds weren’t changing; we had just learned how to drown out discomfort with better PR.
And so, God helped me appreciate (not like nor enjoy) that injustice, hate, and hypocrisy are rising to the surface. It is not only proof that the world is falling apart, but also proof that the sickness is finally being exposed. Because sometimes, the only way to confront darkness is to let it come into the open. You can’t cleanse what you won’t name.
I am sharing this lesson from the past year, because I find it particularly valuable to where we are now in Cameroon. Many are upset by the unrest and are “praying for peace”, but too often what we mean is silence, a return to comfort. Because peace without justice is just silence. It’s the quiet that comes from people being too afraid or too exhausted to speak.
That’s why I’ve stopped praying for “peace” in the shallow sense. Too often, when we say Father, give us peace, what we really mean is make it quiet again. We want normal, even if “normal” was rotting underneath. But real peace is not quietness; it’s justice restored.
The Bible says, Blessed are the peacemakers (Mathew 5:9). Peacemaking is not passive. It’s work. It requires strategy and courage. You can’t make peace unless you first admit there isn’t any. That means naming what’s broken, confronting what festers, and having the uncomfortable conversations that move us toward healing.
So if you’re praying for peace, pray also to become a peacemaker, someone willing to have hard conversations, to think critically, to challenge what’s wrong even in your own home.
Because peace won’t come from the top down; it starts with us.
As I said yesterday, until we start calling out our friends, our uncles, our chiefs, and the elders in our own circles who benefit from upholding this system, nothing will change. This isn’t just about one man or a few men up there. The system survives because of what we have accepted, played into, and kept silent about.
And I know many people are thinking they are powerless today, after the declaration of those results and with the spread of violence. But that’s a lie. A dangerous one. That’s one of the biggest lies we’ve been sold. My favourite Alice Walker quote says: “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
You do have power.
If you’re raising a child to be civic conscious and to shun ethnic bias and other divisions, you’re shaping a future mind, that’s power.
If you can speak up, write, and influence others with your platform, that’s power.
Even having difficult conversations is a power. You have power over what you allow to slide unchallenged in your circle.
You only lose your power when you say, “What’s the point? Nothing will change.”
Many of us are tired and resigned right now, but we still have some power. I’m inviting us to start from where we are. Talk to the people closest to you, especially the ones who think differently, who still believe the system works. You have the power to engage those you disagree with, who you know are complicit in keeping us all down, or who don’t know better. Let’s address our own, speak to that uncle who got you your job through his connections with the party.
Address that elder in your church who excuses their participation in this system. Let’s have an honest conversation with the colleague who says, “That’s just how Cameroon is”?
This is not about attacking anyone. It’s about peacemaking, the uncomfortable, confrontational and patient work of helping people see differently and finding common ground.
Because if we are honest, the greatest evil this government has perfected is divide and rule.
Francophones against Anglophones.
North-West against South-West.
Christians against Muslims.
Each of us is taught to see the other as the problem.
But the truth is, this system harms us all. Even those in power — they, too, are trapped in a machine that feeds them crumbs while robbing everyone of dignity. We need to acknowledge this division for what it is, a tool of control, and find our way back to common ground.
So if you’re wondering, what can I do? Start there.
Use the little power you have to spark conversations that matter.
There’s a technique I use with my students when teaching feminism, and it works for complex topics too: ask questions that make people think.
If you know someone who supports the current regime, talk to them. Pray first (genuinely) so you speak with calm and compassion, not anger. Then ask:
1. Do you recognise that Cameroon is not living up to its potential?
That most Cameroonians deserve better, that people shouldn’t have to leave the country or bribe their way through life to survive?
2. Do you acknowledge that leadership is responsible for addressing these issues?
That those in power are paid by citizens to serve, not to rule over them?
3. If you agree with these two truths, are you willing to act in line with them? Can you appreciate the anger that people feel, and are you ready to challenge what is wrong, even quietly, even within your small space of influence?
If they say yes to all three, then they are not your enemy. You are on the same side.
Because this is not about party or tribe. It’s about Cameroon. It’s about love for truth, love for justice, love for our shared home.
We must stop seeing each other as enemies and remember that when the system changes, it changes for all of us. Even those driving big cars still drive on broken roads. Even those in high offices still pass heaps of trash on their way to luxury hotels.
So appeal not to their pride or conscience alone, but to their humanity and their self-interest. Show them that liberation benefits everyone.
So tonight, as you pray, don’t just pray for peace.
Pray for the strength to make it.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God”
