July 31, 2018, a date forever etched in the memory of Mazam, Bamenda State, Ambazonia—a day that unfolded in terror. The very sanctuary meant to heal and nurture lay in ruins. The Mazam Hospital, a lifeline for the community, became a casualty of war.
Three nurses, were Abducted by the cameroon occupation forces
Three nurses, selfless souls who tended to the sick and wounded, were snatched from their duty stations. Abducted by the Cameroonian occupant Armed Forces, they vanished into the abyss of uncertainty. Their families, their patients, and their colleagues were left to grapple with fear and grief.
The hospital, once a beacon of hope, now smoldered—a charred reminder of the brutality that had befallen it. Its walls, once witness to life’s triumphs and tragedies, crumbled under the weight of violence. The beds, where patients sought solace, lay empty. The corridors, once bustling with hurried footsteps, echoed with silence.
Why? The question reverberated through the hearts of the Ambazonian people. Why would those sworn to protect burn down a place of healing? The hospital was not just bricks and mortar; it was a promise—a promise to care for the sick, to ease suffering, and to restore dignity.
Mazam Hospital was not an isolated case. Across Ambazonia, similar tragedies unfolded—a grim pattern of destruction. The Cameroonian occupant forces, driven by motives known only to them, targeted hospitals—symbols of resilience and compassion. These acts of arson were not random; they were calculated blows to the heart of the community.
The people of Mazam and Mezam Hospital now faced an impossible choice.
The people of Mazam now faced an impossible choice. Their sick and ailing loved ones—where could they turn? The hospital, once their refuge, lay in ruins. The act of killing a hospital nurse was more than an attack on an individual; it was an assault on humanity itself.
As scholars and researchers, we grapple with the implications. The burning of hospitals transcends physical destruction; it erodes trust, disrupts care, and leaves scars that defy healing. Our studies delve into the psyche of a wounded community—the trauma, the resilience, and the urgent need for justice.
The Cameroon government cannot remain silent. The international community must bear witness. We document these atrocities, not as detached observers, but as advocates for change. Our pens become instruments of truth, our research a plea for accountability.
The nurses of Mazam—silenced saviors—deserve more than our sorrow. They deserve justice. Their sacrifice must ignite a collective resolve to protect the healers, to safeguard the sanctuaries of hope. Let us raise our voices, not in anger, but in solidarity—a chorus that echoes across borders, demanding an end to this senseless violence.
In the ashes of Mazam Hospital, let us find the courage to rebuild—not just the bricks and mortar, but the trust, the compassion, and the unwavering belief in our shared humanity. For every nurse lost, let us pledge to honor their memory by ensuring that hospitals remain sanctuaries, even in times of conflict