In Cameroon’s bustling economic capital of Douala, the dreams of young people are increasingly shaped by the prospect of leaving their homeland behind. With more than 40 percent of Cameroonians living below the poverty line, and unemployment in major cities hovering at a staggering 35 percent, it’s little wonder that over half of the country’s youth now aspire to emigrate. The country’s persistent economic woes, coupled with political stagnation under President Paul Biya—who, at 92, is the world’s oldest head of state and has ruled for more than four decades—have created fertile ground for a booming industry: agencies that facilitate the exodus of Cameroon’s best and brightest.
According to a 2024 Afrobarometer survey cited by AFP, 51 percent of young Cameroonians have considered emigrating. “The search for work, economic difficulties and poverty are the main reasons” for this trend, with North America, especially Canada, emerging as the preferred destination. The statistics back this up: in 2024, Cameroon was the top source of new permanent residents in Canada, sending 9,127 people to French-speaking Quebec and 10,395 to the rest of the country, as noted by official Canadian data.
For many, the journey begins with agencies like Objectif Canada, a Douala-based business festooned with red-and-white maple leaf banners. “We don’t promote immigration but the demand exists and clients are easily won over,” explained Stephane Bofia, Objectif Canada’s founder, to AFP. His agency charges 45,000 CFA francs for three months of preparation for the language exams required by Canadian immigration, and personalized support services can run into the millions of CFA francs.
The draw of Canada is clear for people like Martial, a 27-year-old agricultural engineer. Martial paid nearly three million CFA francs to an agency in Douala and hopes to leave for Canada within eight months. “The opportunities here are reserved for a small handful of people,” he admitted, adding that he was encouraged by students already settled abroad and the perception that Canada offers a more open and accessible immigration process.
Yet, as the emigration industry booms, so too do the risks. “There are at least 200 agencies in Douala but very few are reliable,” warned Ghislain Ngongang, a consultant who has helped 40 people leave since the end of 2023. The market is rife with scams, with agencies advertising everything from student visas to Belarus for 2.75 million CFA francs to quick employment contracts in Latvia and Dubai. The dreams of leaving Cameroon, for many, are entangled with the threat of being duped.
Behind this mass yearning for departure lies a deeper malaise—one rooted in the country’s political system and the gerontocracy at its helm. President Paul Biya, who assumed power in 1982 after serving as Cameroon’s fifth Prime Minister, is now seeking an eighth term in the presidential election scheduled for October 12, 2025. Biya’s rule has been marked by constitutional changes, notably the removal of presidential term limits in April 2008, a move that has allowed him to extend his grip on power indefinitely.
As Bola A. Akinterinwa observed in ThisDayLive, Cameroon’s political landscape is dominated by an aging elite. Biya is not alone in his longevity: Senate President Marcel Niat Njifenji is 90, National Assembly President Cavayé Yéguié Djibril is 85, Minister of Justice Laurent Esso is 83, Constitutional Court President Clement Atangana is 84, and National Police General Martin Mbarga Nguelé is 93. The system, Akinterinwa argues, “prevents fresh and younger people to participate in the political governance of Cameroon.”
This gerontocracy, or rule by the old, has profound consequences for the country’s youth. With 60 percent of Cameroon’s 30 million citizens aged 25 or younger, the exclusion of young people from meaningful roles in government and the economy has bred frustration, apathy, and, increasingly, a sense of hopelessness. “What future have the youth in light of the system of gerontocracy in Cameroon?” Akinterinwa asks pointedly.
The lack of opportunities at home is compounded by rising costs of living, especially for food, and ongoing socio-political instability. The northern regions of Cameroon grapple with armed banditry, while the southern Anglophone areas continue to push for secession. Despite these challenges, the political environment remains largely unchanged. Voter apathy is rampant, fueled by the widespread expectation that Biya will win any election, regardless of opposition efforts. As Akinterinwa notes, “no matter what, Biya is always scheduled to win any presidential election in Cameroon.”
The opposition, for its part, has struggled to mount a credible challenge. In 2018, the main challenger, Maurice Kamto, was disqualified, and other contenders failed to unite behind a single candidate. The result has been a political landscape in which power is concentrated among an increasingly elderly elite, and the mechanisms for change are tightly controlled.
This political inertia is mirrored in the country’s social fabric. The sense that nothing will change has led to increased voter apathy and a growing willingness among the youth to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Cecile, a 25-year-old law student, told AFP that she plans to practice law in Canada for a few years before returning to Cameroon—if at all. Theophile, a 24-year-old artist, has “no hope left for the country” and dreams of living anywhere else.
The African Union’s (AU) zero tolerance policy on unconstitutional changes of government, established through the Lomé Convention in 2000 and the African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance in 2007, was intended to curb such entrenched power. However, as Akinterinwa points out, the AU’s enforcement has been inconsistent at best. When Biya removed term limits in 2008, the AU did nothing. The same pattern has played out elsewhere on the continent, with leaders manipulating constitutions to extend their rule and the AU largely silent.
In 2024, Biya even banned public discussion of his non-appearance at official functions amid growing concerns about his health—a move described by Akinterinwa as “dictatorship per excellence.” Such measures only deepen the sense of disconnect between the government and the people it purports to serve.
For Cameroon’s youth, the message is clear: the system is stacked against them. The country’s best and brightest are voting with their feet, seeking opportunities abroad that they cannot find at home. As political scientist Stephane Akoa told AFP, the emigration of “highly qualified individuals” represents a loss on several levels, not least the investment of public funds in their education, which now benefits other nations.
As the ballots are cast in Cameroon’s presidential election, the outcome seems all but predetermined. The real question is not who will win, but how much longer the country’s youth will wait for change—or whether they will simply continue to leave in search of a better life elsewhere.
