Ekuri Forest: How Volunteer Rangers Fight to Save Cross River’s Last Rainforest
By: Abudu Olalekan
Volunteer community rangers risk everything protecting Ekuri Forest in Cross River State. Their fight against illegal logging continues without government support.
Just before the sun climbs over the hills, Festus Olory pulls on his old green shirt, grabs his machete and disappears into the mist. Another day. Another patrol. No salary. No drama. Just the forest and the sound of boots on mud.
He’s 45 now. Been doing this for 25 years. “My kids need to see this place one day,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow. “That’s it. That’s the reason.”
Welcome to Ekuri – two small villages, Old and New, sitting inside 33,600 hectares of some of the last proper rainforest left in West Africa. Back in 1992 the elders said enough is enough. No more selling the future for quick cash. They drew a line. This forest stays standing.
For a while it worked. The UN gave them an award in 2004. REDD+ money showed up. NGOs took pictures. Everyone clapped. Then the cameras left.
Now? Trucks tear up the only road. Chainsaws sing at night. Timber barons smile all the way to the bank.
Festus and the other Ecoguards – all volunteers – walk for hours, sometimes days, looking for smoke or the smell of fresh-cut wood. Their only weapon is that rusty machete. Poachers carry AKs. You do the maths.
Friday Ettah, 41, cocoa farmer by day, ranger by… well, also by day, laughs when I ask if it’s worth it. “Worth it?” He points at the canopy. “Look up. That’s worth it.”
Joseph Okey, the youngest at 28, shows me his “gear” – one small cutlass and a torch with half-dead batteries. “Sometimes we pool money just to buy garri so we don’t faint inside there,” he shrugs. Normal life.
They’ve lost count of the nights they slept under leaves. Wives complain. Kids ask why daddy is never home. But they keep going.
Remember that superhighway dream in 2016? Six lanes straight through the heart of the forest. People shouted. Tweets went viral. The plan got shelved. Victory? Sort of. Except the loggers never really stopped. They just got quieter.
One company – Ezemac – keeps getting named. Villagers say no permission was given. The CEO says the state knows everything. The state says nothing at all. Classic.
Clan head Abel Egbe puts it plain: “We are begging. Just help us a little. Motorbikes. Raincoats. Something.”
Cross River has more forest than any other Nigerian state – over 60%. One of the world’s 25 biodiversity hotspots. Gorillas still live here, or what’s left of them. Yet between 2001 and 2024 the state lost 83% of its tree cover. Eighty-three. Let that sink in.
The 2025 budget gave the Forestry Commission N1.6 billion. Nice number. Zero naira has reached Ekuri. Calls to the commission? Voicemail. Messages to the ministry? Crickets.
Martins Egot runs PADIC-Africa, the tiny NGO trying to hold everything together. He pays rangers from his own pocket when donations dry up. “Millions,” he says, voice tired. “Millions just to keep boots on the ground.”
Still, the forest breathes. Streams still run clear in places. Monkeys still shout at dawn. There’s something here worth saving. You feel it the moment you step under the trees.
Imagine if someone actually cared. Proper support. Eco-tourism trails. Jobs that don’t involve cutting the place down. Lekki Conservation pulls crowds in Lagos. Ekuri could do the same – better, maybe.
But for now it’s just Festus, Friday, Joseph and twenty-something others. Unpaid. Under-armed. Stubborn as hell.
They asked me to tell you they’re tired. They also asked me to tell you they’re not stopping.
