.jpg)
“This is unprecedented: 35 women are going to have at least 100 hectares. It’s a revolution.”
— Mama Cécile Ndjebet, founder of REFACOF
In Sèppè, a small coastal village in Cameroon, change is quietly, but powerfully, taking root. For generations, women here have been the pillars of their families and communities, working and cultivating land that they have not historically had the benefit of owning. Thanks to the work of a powerful network of women, the tide is now turning.
“In our community, women are not allowed to inherit land. It’s the men who control everything,” says Victoire Ndjap, 52, from Sèppè village, Cameroon. Victoire is one of 35 women who recently received a Customary Land Ownership Certificate through the work of the African Women’s Network for Community Forest Management (REFACOF).
For her, the document represents dignity and safety. “This is my husband’s land,” she explains. “He’s still alive, and he agreed to give me the land because it provides security for the family, for me as a woman, and for our children.”
REFACOF worked with village chiefs, family heads, and community leaders to make this possible. Through long conversations with husbands and fathers, the traditional gatekeepers of land, they argued that women’s land rights strengthen families while supporting economic stability and sustainable land use.
“In Cameroon, if a woman becomes a widow, she often loses everything. Uncles and cousins take back the land, and the widow is left with nothing. That’s why this project is so important. It gives us protection,” Victoire adds.
Stephanie Pauline Ngo Pouhe, a young woman from Sèppè, is among the first in her family to inherit land. “I’m very moved,” she says. “Where I come from, if a father has no sons, the daughters inherit nothing, even if they are married.”
She explains how her life has changed: “Thanks to REFACOF, I received part of my father’s land. He is still alive, and he passed it on to me. Without this right, I would never have been able to farm. I’m so grateful, because before, it was impossible.”
Cameroon ranks 112th out of 139 countries in the Equal Measures 2030 SDG Gender Index, reflecting persistent gaps in gender equality across multiple indicators. Beyond inheritance, women face deep structural barriers, from limited access to financial services to higher exposure to gender-based violence.
Mama Cécile Ndjebet, founder and director of REFACOF, has long challenged what she sees as structural injustice in land inheritance. “Women’s land rights are very important because they are the ones who feed the family,” she says.
Highlighting the vital role of women in agriculture, Mama Cécile shares, “Women produce the food, they care for the children, they farm. Land is their main factor of production, everything depends on it,” shares Mama Cécile.
Her commitment is deeply personal. “I was born into this system. I grew up in it, and I’ve grown old in it. I know the suffering mothers experience when they lose their land”, she adds.
To make women’s ownership official, REFACOF revived an ancestral Bassa practice known as Lilaglé, a solemn customary commitment that cannot be revoked.
In the Bassa language of coastal Cameroon, Lilaglé can be defined as “donne-lui le champ,” or “give her the field.” “In our culture, Lilaglé means a public declaration before the ancestors,” explains Mama Cécile. “A father or husband says: ‘I give this land to my wife’ or ‘I give this land to my daughter.’ Once spoken, no one can undo it, not even after death.”
REFACOF transformed this oral tradition into a written document, signed by family heads, village chiefs, and witnesses. It functions as a customary land title, recognized socially and legally.
There is one condition: women cannot sell the land. They can cultivate it, plant trees, and pass it on to their children, but not to outsiders. “That’s what reassures the men,” says Mama Cécile, whose PhD research focuses on strategies to convince men to grant land rights to women in Cameroon.
On her one-and-a-half-hectare plot, Victoire grows fruit trees (tangerine, lemon, avocado, and safou, the fruit of the African plum tree). “This is our inheritance,” she says proudly. “We must work on it. It’s not for sale; it’s for cultivation.”
Pauline tends nearly one hectare of her own. “I plant everything: avocados, safou as well, and oranges, to make the most of the land,” she explains.
The women manage their plots through agroforestry, combining fruit trees with staple crops like macabo and yams, both for household consumption and local sale. “These plantations feed our families, but we also sell part of the harvest to cover our needs,” explains Cécile Rolande Nguimitouck, another landholder. “I don’t plant cassava because it harms the fruit trees; I prefer yams and macabo instead.”
What began as a pilot in two villages has spread to five. Chiefs support it, men accept it, and women feel secure. “Today, we want to expand to 20 villages,” Mama Cécile says.
REFACOF plans to integrate this approach into Cameroon’s Family Code, currently under review by the Ministry of Social Affairs. “We’re preparing a workshop to present Lilaglé officially. It’s a gentle revolution; it protects women without breaking customs. Men are not as hostile to women acquiring rights as we have always thought; all it takes is a good advocacy strategy,” she adds.
Without land rights, Victoire says, her life would have remained a cycle of struggle. “I would be back to square one, suffering like our mothers. The children wouldn’t go to school, and widows and unmarried girls would still suffer. Thanks to REFACOF, we have a chance.”
Cécile Rolande adds, “Before, women here had nothing. Now, I have my own field with macabo and plantain, and I’m proud. In five years, the women here will carry their own purses, from the work of their own hands.”
Pauline continues: “Mama Cécile should not stop with us. She should continue with other young women, here and across Africa. A woman is the mother of humanity. If she has no land, how can she feed her family?”
REFACOF’s work shows how women’s land rights create lasting change. When women plant trees, they are planting the future of their families, their communities, and their country.
