September 22 in New York: The Ambazonia Heart-stirring Leap

By Delavil Lekunze

Most Southern Cameroonians never wept like they did on September 22, 2017, since the current crises baffling them erupted. It was more of tears of joy this time.
Responding to a distress call from the Southern Cameroons (SC) Governing Council to Ambazonians all over the world to come out in thousands this day and protest for their liberation, they obeyed, proudly and fearlessly. They did so in upfront demonstrations that showed the world that their one year outings on the streets, crying under the sun, rain, the biting cold and snow, was not just for the gallery. It was not just a simple rebel yell as detractors of bad faith painted it.
September 22 was the day that the President of the Republic of Cameroon or La Republique du Cameroun (LRC) had to present a speech at the United Nations General Assembly in New York. The protest was a reminder call for the UN to take the required action to free Ambazonia from the claws of its colonizer and restore its statehood. It was another reminder to the world of the torture and dehumanization they have gone through for decades.

Sisiku addressing Southern Cameroonians, New York

The protest call originally sounded like all other announcements for intense mobilization. Many knew the people had listened and were going to turn out the usual way – street demonstrations with little fear-filled crowds in various towns and cities, waving placards, peace branches, uttering liberation songs and slogans, meandering their way through heavy military crackdown and tear gas explosions – and that would be it. Supposedly this was to be the picture of the day. But when the Chairman of the Southern Cameroons Governing Council Sisiku Ayuk Tabe, its spokesperson for Africa Milton Taka, Advocacy Committee bulwark John Mbah Akuro, SCBC, the awe-inspiring Takenbeng online group, Mark Bareta, Tapang Ivo and all the other generals kept beating the drums day after night about September 22, those who were sleeping started waking up. They began thinking differently. Like many did, I told myself I mustn’t miss the New York demonstrations. And that if I did, not only Southern Cameroons will never forgive me, but I will never forgive myself. This same warning signal must have haunted Ambazonians from Ngoketunja to Melbourne, Arizona to Bakingili. ​The warning bell hit hard on everyone as they listened to the ceaseless drumbeats from these leaders. And finally became the magic wand that led to the formidable success on that never-to-be forgotten day. Little did we know it was going to be such a breathtaking outcome for SC like never recorded in history.

Images of Doom

Many I had contacted that morning were up before cockrow to start preparing for the event. First thing I did when I woke up was to browse through latest news and social media communications coming in, to know what it was like already back home. Others around me were doing the same. As I was taking off for New York the heart breaking picture of this boy in a pool of blood shot at the D.O’s office in Mamfe popped up in my phone from a friend at home. On expressing worries about her safety in that town, she texted that she didn’t go there anymore because their lawyers’ conference for September 23 had been cancelled. Wise thinking on their part, due to fear of the unknown obviously. With all the muscled threats from fuming factions of the population promising the lawyers hell if they were meeting to dare postpone the SC strike, propose school resumption, reduce ghost town days, decide to go back to the court rooms after almost one year of absence, or whatever compromising action, they smelt the rat and stopped early before it could belate.
The image of the boy in a pool of blood went wild through handsets here. Seeing it, mamy wept profusely and responded with the rage of a cheated husband. Outpour of reactions: ”Another killing?” “What’s all this evil ?” “On peaceful demonstrators?” “What monstrosity !” “We are cutting off for good, good heavens. No turning back.” Only an Amba child with a dry bloodless heart would have stayed home comfortably that morning, while others were jumping to the streets, after watching this and other hair-raising pictures of the day.

More powerful images kept streaming in. We could hardly believe how the “one for all, all for one” slogan was gripping the people like an opium. The streets of Limbe, Buea, Kumba, Muyuka, Menji, Mamfe, Bamenda, Banso, Santa, Kom plus, turned black with thousands of people. Children as young as five years, teenagers, adults of up to 80 and above, some with walking sticks signaling frail health or advanced age, all singing in unison as they walked through and raised the nation’s blue, white flag to replace all those of La Republique. Military officers and other men in uniform watched in total disbelief and embarrassment. “What ! Is that the Amba land that I know or Togo ? Is that Limbe truly?” Ekinde, from the Southern zone wondered aloud amongst a group of friends at the UN plaza. Some got feverish as they watched, others were dazzled and swept into deep thoughts that placards were dropping off their hands. They too were getting the shock waves that was running through the spine of South West Governor Bernard Okalia Bilai. An overdose of joy left us open mouthed like the military officers who were gazing at the demonstration ‘movies’. “This is sweeter than sweet,” jubilated Camilla and friends from Florida.

The mounting crowd in New York and images dropping in from home did not distract anyone from the focus of the day. Thousands of Ambazonians marked present. They had flown in from Georgia, Texas, Minnesota, Alabama, Europe, Africa and other places. Some came in with chartered buses. Maryland beat them all, bringing up to five big buses. People were happy and at the same time furious.

Unfolding Eye-openers

The takebengs stuck out in the crowd with beautifully tied red hair scarfs and white cloths wrapped around their chest. No tops. They were like bright lily flowers on a sea of weeds.
No one wanted to mince words as they talked. Expressions of outright bitterness and unwavering determination filled the air. They almost all sounded like they were leaving New York straight to Buea, Ambazonia headquarters, to start steering their destiny boat. Songs of freedom and the Ambazonia anthem were on almost nonstop, its flags and colors dotted everywhere, placards of all shades and shapes with snappy catch phrases and photos depicting the people’s woes were flashing. The New York police and guards around the UN complex, onlookers, passersby watched in amazement and confusion as the different demonstrations and speeches gathered steam, as the half dressed women occasionally dived on bare ground, wailing and singing dirges like in the village during funerals. In their hands were placards and pictures of their maimed, raped, jailed and murdered children. These, amongst unceasing calls for the UN and Britain to go fix the mess they left in Southern Cameroons in 1961 vibrated in echoes loud enough to pierce the walls of the UNGA building, and sink into the ears of those therein.

The enthusiasm and burning flame of words were like never seen before amongst our people. Just as it was happening back home, so was it here. The deafening whistling, applause, screaming with “papa ele yaya yo”, “papa ele yaya yo” that ushered in the enigmatic, charismatic, fatherly Chairman Sisiku Ayuk Tabe when he arrived, added more flavor to the cooking pot. The statesman touch in the presentation of his brief speech heralded the much awaited turning point expected to ride the people to glory land. Heads were nodding in satisfaction as he touched salient points amidst heavy claps. “I feel like crying. Tears of joy… If anybody doubted our resolve to go to Buea this has proven…Our people have spoken very loudly…A minute for those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice… As from today none of our boys will go to their homes to sleep, they must stay in the chiefs’ homes…in their groups because there is force in numbers. I have asked their mothers to prepare food to take to them in the chiefs’ homes and fons’ palaces…Peace revolution does not mean we cannot… If Mr Biya does not release Manch Bibixy, Penn Terence and others we are going to step up…should start to resolve the issues between two friendly nations…Hold your leaders responsible…Any chief or parliamentarian who tries to betray this struggle…including your chairman (Sisiku) we will throw the person under the bus…” were Sisiku’s words. “A true statesman he is. Short and straight to the point,” said someone in the crowd. Curious New Yorkers who were observing asked questions. “What beautiful song (the anthem) is that, raining all day? What are you clamoring for, what drives you guys mad?” one of them asked. “Seeking recognition as the newest state in that house up there, so we can get out of a 56 year old quagmire of hostility.” answered an Ambazonian.

Amongst the onlookers were disguised LRC agents whom the people could pinpoint. Many were coming from its support group that was eclipsed by the Amba crowd as soon as they arrived. And were hardly anywhere to be found as they gradually dispersed. The UN and New York security officers had stopped them at the entrance where Ambazonians, supporters and protesters of other countries were crossing into the demonstration grounds of the UN plaza.
After the president finished his presentation at the UNGA and left, by 2 pm, the plaza ground was almost empty as the bracing crowd pursued him to where he was resting to continue the deafening noise. He could hear them live, screaming downstairs “free Mancho and the other prisoners,” “free Southern Cameroons,” “stop the massacre,” “demilitarize Ambaland” and more. They wished he had come down to see them face to face.

While there, and watching the images that kept flowing into their phones from home, showing the great successes recorded with the protest matches, many in New York wanted to explode. “If I can sleep here all night, to keep hitting this ngong until SC statehood becomes real,” lamented one of them. “Now or never. Enough is enough,” another joined in. On the spot, many wept again when news came in about other killings in Buea and Bamenda.

Honorable Takebengs
As tears trickled down the chicks of the takebengs some one furiously shouted, “Where is Sisiku. Tell him we want to go to Ambaland this weekend. Not October 1. We should take back our nation now, now.” Most of them hung by the hotel, seemingly unworried about returning to their homes, as they stared at the images, focused on Buea, Bamenda, Kumba, Kom, Kumbo, Santa, Limbe, Mbengwi, Batibo.

“Oh Lord, where did we go wrong?” asked another takebeng, also in tears. When it was getting late and cold this writer removed her jacket and gave her to cover her exposed upper body. But she answered “No! The heat inside me is more than enough to do what your jacked will do.” All day since morning till almost dusk, she and the other takebengs even though struck time and again by the chilling breeze in open New York, were uncovered from chest to shoulder, all for the sake of their hard-earned children, husbands and brothers jailed without crime charge in appalling conditions; for their sisters, brothers, uncles, grandmothers and aunts under the stranglehold of colonialism.

As they bemoaned, so also came the good news of some parliamentarians speaking out against La Republique and others on their way to resign. The renowned barrister Mbah Ndam was about the first to do so. This has triggered intensification of the pressure on SC parliamentarians and senators to all resign and get back home in Buea. And the yields are coming, with five of them taking moves already – Joseph Mbah Ndam in the lead, all time SC hero Joseph Wirba, Bernard Foju and others. Why some are hesitating to succumb is mind blowing to many Ambazonians. All actors at the battle front are pointing at them as the cornerstone to ease the ‘red sea’ cross over. “ What are they still calculating and contemplating on ? How long will it take for their hearts to be touched by the weeping of the takebengs?” are the questions on many lips.

Signs on the wall show already that the grieving of our takebengs will not be fruitless.
Your God isn’t dead yet !

By Delavil Lekunze