The international community, long fatigued by diplomatic half-truths, was demanding accountability. Photo: Courtesy
By Adonis Byemelwa
The air in Dar es Salaam was thick with urgency as regional leaders gathered for a crucial summit—one that had the potential to reshape the Great Lakes region. Eastern DR Congo teetered on the edge, the city of Goma in crisis, and tensions between Rwanda and the DRC had reached a boiling point.
The world watched as the East African Community (EAC) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC) attempted to forge a path to peace in one of Africa’s most volatile conflicts on 8th February 2025.
Félix Tshisekedi, the Congolese president, was notably absent, opting instead to send a representative. His absence spoke volumes. Kinshasa was done with diplomatic theatrics while M23 rebels, allegedly backed by Rwanda, advanced further into Congolese territory.
His spokesperson, Tina Salama, was clear: the DRC expected "severe sanctions against Rwanda" and an immediate withdrawal of foreign forces. This was not diplomacy as usual—it was a desperate call for action.
Across the room sat Rwandan President Paul Kagame, facing a skeptical assembly of leaders. Rwanda had consistently denied supporting M23, but mounting evidence suggested otherwise. The rebels wielded advanced weaponry, operated with military precision, and moved with a strategic depth that pointed to external backing. For many in that summit, the equation was simple: without Kagame’s hand, M23 would crumble.
South Africa’s Cyril Ramaphosa and Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni walked a tightrope, urging de-escalation while ensuring the summit didn’t collapse into hostility. Somalia’s Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, acknowledging the wider regional implications, added his voice to the call for peace. Leaders from SADC and EAC were not just there to talk—they were there to enforce a solution, fragile as it may be.
Meanwhile, Goma had become a city of sorrow. Over 3,000 lives lost, communities uprooted, and a once-thriving hub of trade and culture is now paralyzed by war. Schools shut down, hospitals ran out of supplies, and civilians were trapped in an ever-worsening nightmare.
A senior official at the summit put it bluntly: "The world cannot continue to watch as Congo bleeds. This is not just about geopolitics—this is about human lives, and we are failing them."
But in a room filled with seasoned politicians, words were not enough. The summit’s primary order was clear: military chiefs from both blocs had five days to draft a roadmap for an immediate ceasefire.
Their task was to restore security in Goma, reopen supply routes, and ensure humanitarian aid flowed unhindered. Most critically, Goma’s airport had to resume operations to facilitate relief efforts.
Beyond the battlefield, another critical resolution emerged—the consolidation of the Luanda and Nairobi peace processes into one framework. African diplomatic efforts had long been plagued by fragmentation, with multiple negotiations often leading to diluted outcomes.
The new "Luanda-Nairobi process" aimed to unify peace talks, ensuring that all key actors—governments, opposition groups, civil society, and armed factions—operated under one umbrella.
Yet, even as leaders signed resolutions, a fundamental issue remained: Rwanda’s role in the conflict. The demand for the removal of the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR), a remnant of Rwanda’s post-genocide history, was largely accepted. But Kinshasa’s insistence on Rwandan military withdrawal—paired with calls for sanctions—set the stage for a deeper confrontation.
For Rwanda, the presence of the SADC mission in the DRC was another point of contention. Kigali had condemned the mission as aggressive rather than peacekeeping. Their demand for the withdrawal of Burundian troops further complicated an already intricate web of alliances.
Reports of M23 rebels inching closer to Bukavu only deepened fears that the conflict could spill over, dragging neighboring states into a war no one could afford.
Then there was the issue of perception. Kagame, once celebrated for Rwanda’s economic transformation, was now drawing comparisons to past leaders who wielded power with an iron grip. The narrative that Rwanda was merely a bystander in Congo’s struggles had worn thin. The international community, long fatigued by diplomatic half-truths, was demanding accountability.
Recent satellite images from Kigali’s military cemetery added fuel to the fire—at least 600 new graves had appeared, raising questions about Rwanda’s true level of involvement.
Intelligence reports suggested the number of Rwandan casualties was in the thousands, a claim Kigali dismissed. But evidence of overwhelmed military hospitals and families receiving empty caskets only intensified scrutiny.
Pressure on international organizations, including the United Nations and African Union, to investigate was mounting. The implications were vast—not just for Rwanda and the DRC, but for the entire region, where tensions had escalated to a dangerous level.
The DRC remained firm in its accusations, demanding an immediate ceasefire, Rwandan troop withdrawal, and the reopening of Goma’s airport for humanitarian aid.
The summit, hosted by Tanzanian President Samia Suluhu Hassan, gathered key regional leaders, including Kenyan President William Ruto, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni, Zimbabwean President Emmerson Mnangagwa, and South African President Cyril Ramaphosa. Kagame was present, but Tshisekedi’s absence underscored the widening rift between Kinshasa and Kigali.
The summit’s key resolution mandated military chiefs to draft a security plan for Goma and surrounding areas within five days. Their directive included securing supply routes, ensuring aid delivery, and reopening the airport. A separate agreement aimed to integrate the Luanda and Nairobi peace talks into a single, streamlined process to prevent bureaucratic gridlock and ineffective diplomacy.
The enduring struggle of Congolese refugees as they flee violence and instability in the DRC.Photo: Courtesy
One of the most contentious issues was the immediate removal of the FDLR from Congolese territory. While Kinshasa viewed the group as a minor threat, Kigali had long used its presence as a pretext for intervention. The summit reaffirmed the Luanda peace agreement’s call for all foreign forces—including Rwandan troops—to withdraw.
Leaders also instructed EAC and SADC military chiefs to draft a timeline for the withdrawal of all foreign forces that had not been formally invited by Kinshasa. To ensure progress, a joint ministerial meeting was scheduled within 30 days to review security recommendations and assess the situation on the ground.
Despite these agreements, skepticism remained. History has shown that regional summits often produced strong statements but little action. The ongoing war had already displaced thousands, leaving Goma—a critical city for trade and governance—crippled. Hospitals were overwhelmed, schools had shut down, and essential services had collapsed under the weight of conflict.
For the people of Goma, these high-level talks meant little unless they resulted in real change. The road ahead was fraught with obstacles, and the success of the summit would not be measured by agreements on paper but by lives saved on the ground.
As Africa’s leaders weighed their next steps, one truth was clear: the time for posturing was over. Only decisive, coordinated action could prevent the eastern DRC from descending further into chaos.
With tensions still simmering, all eyes remained on the next steps. Would Kagame bow to pressure and pull back? Would the international community step in with tangible measures? Would the ceasefire hold, or would it become yet another forgotten accord?
In the days that followed, answers would emerge, but for the people caught in the crossfire, every passing moment without action was another step closer to despair. And as Goma held its breath, the world could no longer afford to look away.
