Looking for Oceanne

Late last year, the world was alerted to the disturbing news that Russia was recruiting hundreds of young African women, aged 18–22, to manufacture drones in a military-industrial compound 1,000 km east of Moscow called Alabuga. The reports also said that the recruits—from at least 15 African countries—were promised good salaries and skills training, but that, once there, they were often trapped, facing tax deductions, dangerous working conditions, strict surveillance, and difficulties in returning home.

In the past six months, a ZAM team in seven African countries investigated the Russian recruitment exercise—and why so many young Africans grab the chance to go, sometimes even after being warned. The Cameroon chapter of this transnational investigation portrays a recruiter who says his efforts are in line with a United Nations drive for the “financial empowerment of girls.”

“Please, where can I register? I want to fight for both Ukraine and Russia,” says a Facebook post by Gertrude Njong from April this year. A post from the same period, ostensibly by a young man named Tamnjong Desmond Platini, agrees: “How do they do it? I want to join the list. Better I should waste in a foreign land fighting than die of hunger in Cameroon.” A third account, called ‘Cameroon legit info line,’ says, “Better to die in Russia or Ukraine than to die (here) and perish,” and gets 31 likes, several of which are laughing emojis.

This is Facebook, of course. In real life, many Cameroonians may think twice before actually joining a war in a cold, foreign country. According to Africa Report, however, several thousand have in fact taken precisely this step.

Many individuals from this group have left for Russia to take up jobs and fellowships in military-adjacent fields, such as security, logistics, IT, or the Alabuga programme.

A Russian visa is very easy to get

The primary motive for this trek to Russia, as it—perhaps unsurprisingly—emerges from my interviews, is the desperation among our youth about the future in Cameroon itself. Here, a now 92-year-old autocrat, President Paul Biya, rules over a regime that ranks 140th on Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions list, even lower than Mali, Liberia, and Gabon. Biya has recently nominated himself again for the elections in October this year, and Cameroon’s Constitutional Council has excluded the principal opposition leader from even participating in these elections.

This being the case, many among the country’s young have come to believe that oppression, poverty, and a glaring absence of ways to develop a meaningful existence for oneself may be eternal, and that protesting is futile. So, they get out, whether on boats or with an easy—very, very easy to get, especially when compared to a visa for anywhere else—Russian visa.

“Opportunity of a lifetime”

Audrey (20) and Ebane (18), acquaintances of mine, are considering the opportunity offered to them by the military-linked Alabuga Start Programme. It sounds appealing, they say, because it is not actually about fighting in the war, it is for girls, and you get money to send home. Audrey tells me she found this “opportunity of a lifetime” through an Alabuga Start advert on Facebook and has been calling the number of the representative listed on the platform to learn more about enlisting. “My family struggles to make ends meet. My mom works part-time, but our income barely covers our expenses,” she says. “I don’t see much hope here. This programme feels like my best chance at a better future.” Her friend, 18-year-old Ebane, is excited by the all-expenses-paid promises. “This is a great opportunity to go abroad and start a new life. Things are difficult here.”

When I tell them about the investigation that I am part of, and the international reports that have shown some of the promises may be too good to be true, they are disappointed. I leave them immersed in doubt.

In the following days and weeks, I tried to find Cameroonians in Alabuga. One particular online profile, of a beautiful young lady called Oceanne Stecy, had attracted my attention. Maybe I could find her? She seemed accomplished and self-assured in the YouTube video I, along with many other Cameroonians, had seen, walking along what seemed like well-kept lawns and white buildings in a place that, judging by the clothing, seemed cold. Alabuga? Was she really there? An editor flashed questions on the screen: What is your name? How did you hear about Alabuga? How do you like it here? She confidently answered, smiling throughout, repeating that she was happy and well cared for, and inviting fellow young women from Cameroon to also join the moving train to this Special Economic Zone in Russia.

Trying to contact Oceanne, however, had been unsuccessful. Name searches on the internet had only turned up profiles with the same unusual name appearing on job listings as au pairs in Abidjan, Germany, and elsewhere in Russia. Did Oceanne even exist?

Oceanne’s name also popped up on listings of au pairs

Together with a friend of mine who works for a telemarketing company, we phone the number of the Alabuga representative in Cameroon: Michel Ateba, who, according to photos on his LinkedIn profile, is a tall, good-looking man in classy but modest dress. My friend pretends that she wants to register, but tells him she is concerned about the negative reports we have read. He assures us warmly that all of that is not true and is merely Western propaganda. He repeats that we’ll receive good salaries, free housing, and skills training, and won’t have to worry about anything. His company, Enangue Holdings, even offers passport fee assistance for 40 recruits from poor backgrounds. The passport fee in Cameroon is about US$200.

Partnering with Russian taxis

Enangue Holdings can certainly afford some assistance with our travel perils, it seems, based on research into its background. He is a director of many companies and holds government contracts for several. In one photo, he is dressed in a shirt made from the ruling party’s typical fabric and design.

Ateba has been actively promoting Russian-Cameroon business and trade relations for about nine years and has also entered a partnership with and obtained an operations license for Russian taxi company Yango in the lucrative taxi business in Cameroon. He has recently been named a member of the Cameroon Business Council, overseeing all of Cameroon’s trade with Russia.

“This is about financial empowerment of the girl child”

“I don’t want to talk anymore with these journalists who just put the Western lies to me,” he explains when I phone him directly, identifying myself as a journalist. Then he agrees to talk to me, since he says I might really want to listen.

Emphasising that his Alabuga recruitment efforts are “backed by the Cameroonian Ministry of Women Empowerment and the Family” (abbreviated MINPROFF), he wants me to understand that this is all about the “financial empowerment of the girl child,” which is “in line with the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals.” He then adds that he is also “actively engaged” with the country’s foreign affairs ministry, MINREX (Ministry of External Relations), to promote Alabuga. He has personally been to the compound, he says, and assures me that those who are in Alabuga are safe and doing well. “There are thirteen (from Cameroon) there now, but we are expected to send a hundred more this year.” Photos on Enangue Holdings’ Facebook page show Ateba himself at Alabuga, smiling and surrounded by young women.

“We’ll send a hundred more this year”

Vehement denial

I ask why Alabuga is only for such young women, with an age limit of 22, but don’t get a straight answer. “They may consider males in the future, but for now it’s just girls,” he says. When I then raise some of the issues reported by international media, such as exploitation and maltreatment, Ateba once again vehemently denies them. “Who told you that? This is just propaganda fueled by the West against Russia. Alabuga is not about the war in Ukraine. There are many factories there, and over a thousand girls from various nations, including Asians. Why is there a focus on Africa in the international reports? The case is simply that Western countries have outlived their opportunities for Africans, and they don’t want Russia to take the lead.” Sternly: “It’s all a smear campaign. We are following up on that.”

Following up, how, I ask. “We are assembling a record of all these websites. And we’ll take some journalists and government officials to Alabuga so they can see for themselves. Maybe later this year or next year. The partners (in Russia) are working on that.” He adds that in the meantime, “you either believe that what we are telling you is true, or you believe what people are saying on the internet. These girls are fine there.”

“It’s all a smear campaign”

I ask if I can speak with one of them, just to make sure that they are indeed fine, and mention Oceanne Stecy. Maybe I can talk to her? But Ateba says he cannot facilitate contact with her, or any other Cameroonian in Alabuga, or their families in Cameroon at the time. “My Russian partners have not given me approval to connect any girls for an interview for the moment,” he adds. “If the partners approve such an interview, I will let you know.”

He hasn’t come back to me.

When I check his Linkedin profile again, I find that he has marketed recruitment for Alabuga even as a solution to illegal migration away from Cameroon or Africa. The programme is “addressing one of the biggest headaches we’ve got in Africa today – illegal immigration”, he writes, implying that marshalling youth through his Russian channel will help stop them departing through other means.

Unanswered calls

Having failed in my search for Oceanne, I ask a contact at MINREX if they really are partnering with Michel Ateba and Enangue Holdings in promoting Alabuga recruitment. Speaking anonymously, my source says he has not heard of that and has been told that Cameroon “is working towards discouraging such ventures,” because “in some cases Cameroonians had to be repatriated from countries where they were subjected to poor working conditions.” However, when I ask more questions about Alabuga, my source becomes frightened and tells me to “get approval from the Ministry of Communication and follow the regulated procedures to interview government sources,” an avenue that, as every journalist in Cameroon knows, will be difficult.

Sadly, I have no contacts at MINPROFF; the website for the department does not even load, which is not an exceptional occurrence in Cameroon. Phone calls to officials whose numbers I managed to get later at both ministries are left unanswered.

This is, again, not surprising. Citizens in this country are accustomed to their government not responding to individual or civil society concerns, and media queries are regularly left unanswered—unless the reporter is friendly with a politician, who then often uses the reporter as a public relations agent for him or herself.

The silence is agony for many families

The silence is agony for many families, especially those whose children left for Russia’s military service. Cameroonian channel Equinox TV recently featured the family of Eric Donald Demlabing, a former student at the University of Dschang’s Faculty of Letters and Human Sciences in the West region, who travelled to Russia in October 2024. It was Demlabing’s second time, as he had previously returned after completing his first stint of military service. According to his father, interviewed by Equinox, his son’s decision to go back was motivated by an offer of 2 million CFA francs (just over €3,500).

The father also told Equinox that the last time he heard from his son was in February 2025, when Demlabing sent videos to friends from the frontlines describing going two weeks without water — there was only tea for drinking — and developing rashes. The family had no contact with him since. In one of the videos from the Ukraine front, they came across later, the father said, a voice was saying: “It wasn’t easy, bro… many people died between February and now, it’s not easy here, bro… we don’t have a choice.”

Service secret de la résistance

In desperate attempts to find out what is happening amid silence from the authorities, Cameroonians are flocking to social media in search of information about those who have left for Russia. A Facebook whistleblower account run by a diaspora-based individual called Nzui Manto, which has 638,000 followers, has become the go-to portal for families missing a loved one. Manto, whose email address is ‘servicesecretdelaresistance’ and who is rumoured to be a “revolutionary,” appears to have strong sources, particularly regarding the Russian front in Ukraine; even Africa Defence Magazine quotes him on his estimate that 65 Cameroonian soldiers have died there so far.

Often, when families report that they haven’t seen their fathers, children, nephews, or nieces for a while, ‘Nzui Manto’ promises to investigate and report back. In this way, he has informed scores of Cameroonian families that their loved ones have died, giving the places, dates, and circumstances that led to their demise. Responses like “Oh no, this was my uncle” or “I worked with him when I was teaching” indicate that the families in question lend credibility to Manto’s reports.

“Oh no, this was my uncle”

Memorial services have been organised following the Facebook portal’s feedback, amid not a peep from either Cameroonian or Russian authorities. The last death report on Nzui Manto’s Facebook page is dated 24 August.

Career prospects

But not all who go die; it is an unfortunate truth that career prospects, even for soldiers, may in some cases still be better in Russia than in Cameroon, where soldiers are dying in wars with Boko Haram in the north and armed separatists in the English-speaking regions. When I come across a Cameroonian contact who is now an officer in Russia’s military intelligence, he says that “many simply travel on a tourist visa, then see application forms to join the army, all posted at major places like the tram station. Then, if they want to, they go there and enlist themselves.”

He does not want to talk about himself or how he ended up collecting intelligence on “enemy” Ukraine, but continues: “This is how it happens generally: the recruiters (then) leave you a text message—in French if you don’t understand Russian. This message contains directions on how you get to your training camp. Once you get there, they train you for two to three months, and after that, you are dispatched to fight against Ukraine.” Though cautious throughout our conversation, my contact doesn’t seem too eager to return to Cameroon.

Mixed messages

In March this year, the Cameroonian Ministry of Defence announced a crackdown on soldiers deserting the army to fight in Russia. In the press release, Minister Delegate at the Presidency in charge of Defence, Joseph Beti Assomo, urged all heads of the country’s defence and security forces to “please urgently take all appropriate measures to tighten control over personnel within your ranks” in this regard.

Two months later, however, on 26 May—at a celebration of Africa Day at the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Moscow—Cameroonian ambassador to Russia Mahamat Paba Salé still celebrated how “Russia contributes to the training of African personnel” and that Cameroon “owed a great deal” to Russia “in the sphere of security and the military.” In a report for the Russian site afrinz.ru, which says it is “a Russian news agency about events on the African continent” with the “goal to mutually expand the knowledge of Russians and Africans about each other,” he was further quoted as saying that Russia was now Cameroon’s “main partner outside the continent” and that “even in the most remote villages in Africa, you can see children waving the flags of the Russian Federation.”

According to the report, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov said during his speech at the same reception that Russia “would continue to assist African countries in strengthening their defence capabilities and countering terrorism.”

A letter sent by ZAM, asking Ambassador Mahamat Paba Salé—who is, at 74, among the younger generation of Cameroon’s state representatives—for comment on Cameroonian deaths and disappearances in Russia, was left unanswered.

See the first instalments in this Transnational Investigation here

Migrant Battalion | African governments collude with the Russian recruitment of young women into its arms industry

Zambia | First Contact

Great Lakes | Caught in the snow