In Boma, the mobilization against oil exploitation in Muanda, organized by the coalition Notre Terre Sans Pétrole (Our Land Without Oil), has reached a decisive turning point. On the third consecutive day of demonstrations, the streets of this port city revealed far more than a simple gathering: the signs of a movement taking root, structuring itself, and expanding its scope.
From the early hours of the morning, groups of activists from Kinshasa, Matadi, and Boma converged on City Hall, the starting point of a march that quickly spread across several major arteries of the city. Based on our observations and cross-checks with local stakeholders, the mobilization took over intersections, main roads, and working-class neighborhoods, reflecting a clear determination to occupy public space and force open a debate long confined to specialized circles.
At the heart of the demands is a direct challenge to Perenco, the country’s sole oil operator, whose activities in Muanda have drawn repeated criticism for years. Protesters describe an operation disconnected from local realities, pointing to persistent environmental impacts: water pollution, mangrove degradation, declining air quality, and soil depletion. These issues, observers note, reflect sustained pressure on particularly vulnerable coastal ecosystems.
Beyond environmental concerns, however, a collective memory surfaces in the discourse—one shaped by half a century of oil exploitation marked, according to many accounts, by largely unfulfilled promises of development. Announced infrastructure projects that rarely materialized, and economic opportunities perceived as limited or precarious: for many residents, local benefits struggle to outweigh the social and ecological costs borne by communities.
“Our children are getting sick, our water is polluted, yet no one listens to us. It feels like our lives don’t matter,” said a mother encountered on the sidelines of the march, echoing a widely shared sentiment. Another protester added: “What is happening in Muanda is unacceptable. The inaction of the authorities borders on organized complicity. We can no longer remain silent.”
The role of institutions is therefore repeatedly called into question. Several participants denounce weak oversight, a lack of transparency, and responses deemed insufficient given the scale of the issues. According to some analyses, this perceived inaction fuels a sense of abandonment that strengthens the movement rather than containing it.
On the ground, the tone of the demands also appears to be shifting. The slogan “Not one more drop,” chanted repeatedly, now resembles a clear line in the sand. It is no longer just about calling for adjustments, but about fundamentally questioning the country’s extractive trajectory and its implications for affected territories.
This third day of mobilization does not signal fatigue, but rather growing momentum. In Boma, the convergence of actors from different cities suggests the emergence of a broader movement, capable of linking Muanda’s local struggles to a national reflection on natural resource governance.
Underlying it all is a persistent question, raised by both protesters and observers alike: can we still speak of development when it comes with lasting environmental degradation and the weakening of communities? In Boma, the streets seem to have already begun to answer. Muanda—long seen as peripheral in national debates—is now asserting itself as a focal point of tensions between economic imperatives, environmental demands, and social expectations. And in this moment, one thing is becoming increasingly clear: the protest is no longer just raising awareness—it is organizing to exert real influence.
By Asani Musungayi