The Manyu community in the United Kingdom, once celebrated for its unity, uprightness, and quiet dignity, is now grappling with an identity crisis. Reports of cruelty, theft, and fraud have steadily eroded the respect and pride that the name Manyu once commanded. A people renowned for industriousness and moral strength now find themselves facing uncomfortable questions about whom they have become and where they are heading.

Over the past two years, several incidents have deeply tarnished the Manyu community’s image. One member received a suspended sentence for stealing from a disabled man, an act so heartless that it stands in direct opposition to the values of compassion and decency that Manyu elders once embodied. Another member was convicted for repeated cruelty toward a blind man. More recently, a Manyu individual was sentenced to over four years in prison for defrauding victims of more than £110,000 through a bogus investment scheme. These are not isolated incidents; they form part of a growing pattern that has brought shame and suspicion upon an entire people.

These acts, committed by a few individuals seeking quick wealth and status, have inflicted deep reputational damage to the entire Manyu community. Their crimes reverberate far beyond the courtrooms. They erode trust among Manyu citizens, strain relationships with friends of Manyu, and alter how outsiders perceive the Manyu community. In public opinion, one act of dishonesty can outweigh years of honest labour.

The Manyu name once stood as a mark of integrity, love for education, and self-reliance. Today, it risks being associated with criminality and deceit. When one or two members of a small community engage in wrongdoing, society rarely views it as individual failure; instead, it becomes a reflection on the group’s collective values. This is unfair but inevitable.

The irony is that such behaviour directly contradicts the heritage Manyu people inherited. Historically, Manyu was known for honesty, discipline, and mutual support. The cocoa, coffee, and palm plantations that educated generations were built on hard work, not deceit. To be known as a Manyu man or woman was once to be regarded as someone who kept their word and honoured their debts. These values formed the moral foundation of Manyu society.

Like many immigrant groups, Manyu people in Britain face real pressures, economic hardship and financial demands from families back home. Moreover, the fact is that the people involved in bringing shame upon the Manyu name in the UK are not renowned for money remittances to their families back home. In addition, one of the villains, a jack-of-all-trades, had a brother who was a celebrated burglar in the villages in Manyu. This is worrying as genetics may be responsible in some cases for the ethical deterioration in the Manyu community in the UK.

The pursuit of fast wealth has led to moral shortcuts, and the consequences have been devastating to the Manyu brand in the UK. This collective shame is not just public; it is deeply personal. Within the Manyu community in the UK, elders fear that the next generation will inherit not the pride of Manyu heritage but the stigma of crime and dishonour.

In social gatherings from Leicester to Birmingham, from Derby to Nottingham, whispers of distrust have become commonplace. People question who can be relied upon, who might be involved in fraud, and who might bring the next scandal. The once-strong sense of brotherhood and sisterhood has given way to suspicion.

The long-term effects of this moral decay extend far beyond the present. A community associated with integrity attracts respect, collaboration, and opportunity. One tainted by crime encounters coldness and distrust. Already, other Cameroonian groups in the UK are keeping their distance. When a community loses its moral credibility, it also loses its social capital.

The impact on identity will be lasting. Imagine a Manyu child decades from now researching their ancestry, only to discover that their forebears were convicted of fraud or cruelty. In future, Manyu children may change their names by deed poll following unfortunate discoveries, and that will be unimaginable harm to the Manyu heritage. Some of our descendants will have to work twice as hard to prove that they are different, to show that they carry the dignity of their ancestors rather than their shame. That is the cruel legacy of communal dishonour: it endures long after the offenders are gone.

Yet, not all is lost. The Manyu community in the UK still has the opportunity to reclaim its reputation and restore its moral compass. Redemption begins with recognition. Pretending the problem does not exist only deepens the wound. Community members must speak openly, confront wrongdoing, and refuse to protect those whose actions betray shared values. Those who bring shame to Manyu must answer not only to British law but also to the moral judgment of their peers.

Rebuilding respectability will require a return to the principles that once defined Manyu. The path forward lies in education, entrepreneurship, transparency, and service. Elders and community leaders in groups such as Ekpe, MOHWA, EYUMEMA, the vibrant NYENE MAWN, and MECA must take an active role. Integrity, not wealth, should be preached as the highest Manyu virtue.

The story of Manyu in the UK need not end in disgrace. The Germans who arrived in Mamfe in the late nineteen century, described Manyu people as self-confident and industrious, and saw a people of strength and purpose. It would be a tragedy if history recorded that their descendants traded that legacy for greed and moral decay.

The task before the Manyu community in the UK is clear: to rebuild, to restore, and to remind the world that the spirit of honesty and diligence still lives within the Manyu heart. True love for one’s community is not expressed through empty pride but through the courage to confront its flaws. The time for that courage is now before another generation grows up believing that shame, rather than honour, is their inheritance.

By Soter Tarh Agbaw-Ebai