Farmers in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo who recently returned to their villages after fleeing a violent offensive by the M23 rebel group are discovering that their land is no longer theirs. Fields once planted with cabbages and cauliflowers have been taken over by new occupants, including Rwandans, creating bitter disputes that risk undermining fragile peace efforts.
The issue goes beyond agriculture. Eastern Congo is one of the most resource-rich regions in the world, producing strategic minerals such as coltan, cobalt, copper, and lithium—materials essential for global industries, from electric vehicles to smartphones. The rising tensions over land ownership threaten not only the livelihoods of small farmers but also the wider stability needed to attract investment into the war-battered provinces of North and South Kivu.
In June, Rwanda and Congo signed a peace deal brokered by the administration of former U.S. President Donald Trump. Subsequent talks between Kinshasa and M23 rebels in Doha were expected to yield a more comprehensive agreement by last month but have stalled, leaving communities in limbo. In the meantime, disputes over farmland have multiplied. According to unpublished United Nations data reviewed by Reuters, hundreds of such cases have been documented. The problem became so acute that M23 established an “arbitration centre” to mediate conflicts, a senior rebel official confirmed.
Analysts warn that unresolved disputes could derail any hope of lasting peace. “Land conflicts can always fuel violence if they are not properly addressed and if state structures are not sufficiently strong and equipped to manage them,” said Fred Bauma, director of the Congolese research institute Ebuteli. “As part of the Doha agreements, this issue will have to be addressed.”
The story of Abdu Djuma Burunga illustrates the complexity of the crisis. At 49 years old, he fled his hometown of Kibumba three years ago as M23 fighters, backed by Rwanda, surged through North and South Kivu. He found temporary refuge in makeshift camps, only to be urged—sometimes forced—by the rebels to return home this year as part of the Alliance Fleuve Congo coalition’s attempts to project an image of governance and control.
When Burunga finally returned in April, he found devastation. His wooden home had collapsed, and strangers were cultivating his farmland. “They took our belongings and occupied our fields,” he said. These newcomers, he added, spoke Kinyarwanda, drank with M23 fighters, and crossed back and forth across the Rwandan border. Despite his appeals to M23-appointed administrators, Burunga had to wait four months before regaining his land, only after the occupants were allowed to finish harvesting their crops. He was able to reclaim his property in August.
Other residents have faced similar situations. In Kibumba, Rwandan newcomer Mukumunana Penina openly admitted she had settled on abandoned farmland. “This field belongs to a Congolese citizen. I don’t even know his name. I occupied it by planting potatoes there. I’m Rwandan, I only occupied this field to survive,” she told Reuters, stressing that she acted without encouragement from M23.
Interviews with six displaced Congolese farmers revealed the same pattern: land that once sustained their families was now occupied by others. Surveys conducted earlier this year by the UN refugee agency found that around 200 families in Goma—roughly 10% of respondents—could not return to their farms because others had taken control.
The issue of Rwandan presence in eastern Congo has long been politically sensitive. A July report by UN experts concluded that Rwanda exercised direct “command and control” over M23 and sought to expand its influence by “conquering additional territories.” Kigali, however, denies supporting the rebels, insisting that its forces only operate in the region for defensive purposes against the Congolese military and hostile Hutu militias. When asked whether Rwanda was attempting to seize Congolese land, government officials in Kigali offered no response.
M23 leaders, for their part, argue that most of the newcomers are not Rwandan nationals but Congolese Tutsis who fled across the border after the 1994 Rwandan genocide and have since returned due to insecurity caused by Hutu militias. The senior rebel official acknowledged, however, that abuses had occurred, even if no official policy of land seizure existed. The arbitration centre, established after M23’s takeover of Goma, often facilitates compromises—sometimes newcomers agree to vacate land, while in other cases, they share plots with returnees.
The broader picture is bleak. Tens of thousands remain displaced, thousands more have been killed, and eastern Congo continues to simmer under competing claims of power, ethnicity, and survival. For people like Burunga, the struggle is deeply personal: reclaiming a piece of land is not just about farming, but about recovering dignity, stability, and hope after years of war. Yet unless land disputes are systematically resolved, the chances of meaningful peace in eastern Congo remain uncertain.
