On the outskirts of Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon, members of the local Yanda community say the construction of a large multisports complex has left them without their traditional forest lands, where their ancestors were buried.
The forest previously provided Yanda families with trees, plants and animals for their food and medicine.
The land, they say, was razed for the construction of the Paul Biya Omnisports Complex, which hosted the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations; today, the stadium stands empty.
The Yanda community is asking the government for compensation, but the people have no formal titles to their ancestral lands — a common problem for traditional communities in similar situations seeking land rights or compensation for their eviction.
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OLEMBÉ, Cameroon — About 10 kilometers (6.3 miles) north of the Cameroon capital of Yaoundé, local members of the Yanda community say the construction of a stadium has resulted in the clearing of their ancestral forest, depriving roughly 600 people — 52 families — of their land and their means of livelihood. Announced as a major project to modernize Cameroon’s sports infrastructure, the Yanda say the construction quickly turned into a tragedy for their community.
The forest, once a source of food for the Yanda people, was razed to the ground, locals say, wiping out their cultural and economic landmarks. A decade later, the people are still awaiting payment from the government, which they say should total 3 billion CAF francs (nearly $5 million today) in compensation for the loss of almost 150 hectares (370 acres). Now, as the Paul Biya Omnisports Stadium struggles to fulfill its economic promises and runs on empty, members of the Yanda community continue to clamor for what they view is long overdue justice.
The Yanda are among more than 250 traditional ethnic groups and subgroups in Cameroon. The community had been settled in Olembé for generations, living in harmony with their environment. Their forest, which was not known by any formal name, provided them with most everything they needed: food, natural remedies and a culturally significant living space. Among the plant species essential to their daily lives were the iroko (Milicia excelsa), moabi (Baillonella toxisperma Pierre) and sapele (Meliaceae), trees precious for their medicinal properties and their wood. The forest also abounded in wild species such as the palm weevil and pangolin, which had been major sources of protein for families (though pangolin hunting was banned in 2017). Fruit picking, such as plums and wild mangoes, often punctuated the seasons.
But then, everything changed. The government announced an ambitious project: the construction of complex housing a 60,000-seat stadium designed to modernize the country’s sports infrastructure with spaces for football, tennis and swimming as well as concerts and other events. Residents say the project, meant to stimulate the local economy and attract international events, involved the expropriation of the Yanda’s ancestral lands.
In 2014 and 2015, inhabitants say, they were informed they would have to leave their land. In a recent interview with Mongabay, Eyenga Eyébé Alphonse, the Yanda patriarch and chief of Olembé 2 district, says a community member who worked for the national government at the time (and still does), fought for the group at the national level, pleading for and successfully securing a promise for compensation of 3 billion CAF francs.
Alphonse says the government understood the area was community land, occupied for generations, and the people were due compensation. In 2007, Cameroon voted in favor of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), which states, “Indigenous peoples have the right to the lands, territories and resources which they have traditionally owned, occupied or otherwise used or acquired.” The declaration is not legally binding, but around the world, many communities look to this document as a standard of protection.
In Alphonse’s eyes, UNDRIP cements his people’s right to the land — or compensation for it. Yet the Yanda received no formal document from the government confirming their right to compensation, and 10 years on, he says, the money remains an illusion.
A 2018 image of the Paul Biya stadium under construction on the site where the Yanda community says their ancestors are buried.
A 2018 image of the Paul Biya stadium under construction on the site where the Yanda community says their ancestors are buried. Image by Nana Padrino via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).
The Yanda community had been settled in Olembé for generations, living in harmony with their environment. Their forest provided them with everything they needed. But then, everything changed. Image by Emilie Languedoc/Mongabay.
‘We’ve lost everything’
Alphonse says he vividly remembers with bitterness the start of the stadium construction. Sitting in front of his veranda, he recalls it point by point. “We saw the first bulldozers arrive. Our fields, forests and rivers were wiped out in a matter of days. We were promised compensation, but it never arrived. Today, we are living in a misery we have never known before.”
Families who were once self-sufficient through farming and hunting are now forced to survive in an urban environment where they have neither land nor jobs. Zibi, another Yanda patriarch, is also bitter over what he calls an injustice going back decades. “Our land was expropriated in 1974,” he says, in line with a national initiative promoting sports infrastructure. “But at that time, we were still growing crops, because the construction work … had never started. It was [later] with the stadium project that our forest and crops were effectively razed to the ground. Our ancestors were buried here; our children were supposed to grow up here. Today, we are strangers on our own land,” he says.
Moreover, the hopes of development promised by the construction of the stadium have evaporated, with the exception of a few days of activity during the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations (which actually took place in 2022). Since then, the stadium has remained empty and its construction incomplete. The space has neither been rented out, nor has it been approved for sporting competitions, meetings or other cultural events. No economic activity has developed around it, Zibi says. “No shops, no jobs for our young people.”
The forest of his ancestors no longer remains. Many younger people in the community have moved into the city for jobs. Some of the older family members still live in the area, working small jobs or depending on their children for survival. The elders say their biggest fear is dying without the opportunity to be buried on their ancestral land — which is now entombed beneath an empty stadium.
Image of Milicia excelsa trees, pictured here growing in Uganda.
Image of Milicia excelsa trees, pictured here growing in Uganda. Members of the Yanda community near Yaoundé, Cameroon, say this tree species grew on their ancestral lands before the area was cleared for the construction of a stadium. Image by Fenrith via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 3.0).
A hopeless battle?
Despite administrative appeals, the Yanda community is struggling to make its voice heard. Martin Etoundi, interim chief of Olembé 2, describes what he calls a never-ending process: “Complaints have been lodged to relevant authorities, in particular the sports administration, but no concrete response has been given till date. The villagers have received vague promises that a solution would be found in due course, but the wait is dragging on and on. Meanwhile, many discouraged residents have left the locality, threatening the survival of the original community of Olembé.”
Mongabay’s search for reactions from Cameroonian authorities has been fruitless. The sports administration has no authority in land rights issues. When we asked at the Yaoundé I Town Hall, the deputy in charge of resettlement said she hadn’t dealt with the matter and advised us to ask the Société Immobilière du Cameroun (SIC), a government-run real estate corporation whose mission encompasses housing issues, or the Ministry of Housing and Urban Development (Mindhu), which implements plans and policies for rural and urban development. Mongabay sent several emails to both the SIC and Mindhu but had not received a response by publication time.
What does the land law say?
According to Aristide Chacgom, lawyer and coordinator of the nature protection NGO Green Development Advocates, under Cameroon’s land management legislation, there are different possible scenarios when a development project is implemented. If people have titles to the land, they are entitled to receive compensation from the government covering not only the value of the land, but also the investments made on it. When people have no land titles, the law entitles them to compensation for only the goods and crops on the land; it does not take into account the value of the land itself.
There is also another scenario under the law, in which the state considers an area to be “forest” or “virgin land” and part of the national domain. And in this case, without land titles, no compensation is paid to people occupying the land, even if local populations use it for livelihood activities such as collecting non-timber forest products, known as NTFPs.
However, the Yanda had occupied their territory for generations, with the land being passed unofficially from one generation to the other. Though they had no formal titles and their land was not officially demarcated, the community says the government had an obligation to respect their rights.
But the reality is not so simple. In order to claim land compensation, it is necessary to justify formal occupation of the land. This situation poses a major challenge for communities that live in harmony with nature but have no legal recognition of their land rights — like the Yanda population.
Zibi (left), a Yanda community patriarch, and Martin Etoundi (right), interim chief of Olembé 2
Zibi (left), a Yanda community patriarch, and Martin Etoundi (right), interim chief of Olembé 2, discuss the stadium construction and their efforts to seek compensation for the loss of their ancestral forests. Image by Fanta Mabo.
Olembé Stadium taken shortly before the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations.
Olembé Stadium, shortly before the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations. “We saw the first bulldozers arrive. Our fields, forests and rivers were wiped out in a matter of days. We were promised compensation, but it never arrived. Today, we are living in a misery we have never known before,” says Eyenga Eyébé Alphonse. Image by Christian Yéné.
Not alone
The story of Olembé is not unique, nor is the story of the stadium’s construction. In other African countries, major infrastructure projects are being carried out for similarly large sports complexes — from the Republic of Congo to Ivory Coast, Kenya, Tanzania and beyond.
And around the world, history brims with stories of local communities evicted, their homes demolished and their lands bulldozed for the promise of new entertainment venues. Some of these stories date back years, even decades, from Los Angeles to South Africa to Japan.
In the wake of these constructions, meant to symbolize development, are locals who pay the price and are often forgotten. All of which raises the question of whether modernization necessarily involves the destruction of local communities — and in the case of the Yanda, deforestation.
Meanwhile, in Olembé, the Paul Biya stadium stands like a vestige of broken promises. And beneath its empty stands, the voices of the Yanda people continue to call for compensation and justice.
Banner image: Cameroon and Burkina Faso compete at the Olembé Stadium during the 2021 Africa Cup of Nations (which took place in January 2022). Image by Jeanpierrekepseu via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).
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