Forgotten Parks: In the Shadow of Conflict, a Wilderness Rises Again

Each morning, before the sun burns through the mist rising off Lake Upemba, rangers gather in formation at the HQ of Lusinga and the Upemba National Park’s substation. They salute the flag, receive their orders, and set off (sometimes for days at a time) into a landscape few outsiders have ever walked. Their job is to protect one of Africa’s oldest and most embattled national parks, where conservation is not a career, but a daily act of endurance.

In the southeast of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Upemba National Park spans more than 13,000 square kilometres of lakes, wetlands, and dry savannah. Once home to tens of thousands of zebras, buffalo, and antelopes, the park was gutted by decades of conflict and neglect.

For years, armed groups occupied parts of the park, living inside its boundaries and exploiting wildlife and natural resources. Though that era has largely passed, its effects still echo across the landscape.

“Sometimes, the same people who were once part of militias are now poachers,” says Antonio Longangi, Communications Officer for Forgotten Parks Foundation, which co-manages Upemba alongside the Congolese Institute for Nature Conservation (ICCN). “When instability spreads, so does poaching. They’re connected. The people and the wildlife suffer together.”

In 2017, Forgotten Parks and ICCN signed a long-term partnership to rebuild the park from the ground up—an effort that blends state authority with NGO flexibility in a region where both are essential.

“Our goal is to turn the park into a green engine for development in the region,” Antonio explains. “That means reconnecting people and wildlife through opportunity.”

Part of that opportunity comes through practical, everyday improvements. One example: enhanced energy access. Where surrounding communities had long struggled with inconsistent power from aging infrastructure, the park recently built a small solar installation to support operations, an essential step toward stability and self-reliance on site. “It’s modest,” Antonio says, “but it brings hope. It shows what’s possible.”

Another major focus is community livelihoods. Across villages bordering the park, Upemba has launched an Agri-Food Programme to help farmers improve production on existing land rather than expanding into protected areas. Earlier microcredit initiatives lost funding, but the team has shifted toward agribusiness training, assisting farmers in increasing yields, adding value, and accessing markets that don’t depend on clearing more land.

Even infrastructure far beyond the park has shaped Upemba’s future. Road rehabilitation in the Manono region, driven by lithium exploration more than 200 km away, has shortened travel time to the park headquarters by several hours. “It improves access,” Antonio says, “but like anywhere, improved access can also increase pressure. It’s always a balance.”

Despite everything, wildlife is returning. In 2016, Upemba’s zebra population had dropped to just 35. Today, there are over 197 of the last wild zebras in the Congo. Pangolins, lechwe, and buffalo are being documented again.

“We are still gathering data,” Antonio clarifies, “but we have enough evidence—tracks, photos, sightings—to confirm their presence where they were once thought to be gone.”

But conservation here isn’t just about animals. “If you don’t help the communities, you’ll never protect the park,” Antonio says. “People need to live.”

Upemba is working not only with communities surrounding the park, but also with communities far beyond its boundaries that are affected by elephant movements. The aim is to protect the last remaining elephant landscape (ELE) of Greater Katanga while reducing risk to people living along these routes. Rather than relying on assumptions about past land use, the park is building an evidence-based understanding of elephant movement by collecting data from GPS-collared elephants. That data will allow them to map corridors accurately, but it requires long-term monitoring (at least five years) to understand patterns properly.

This is all part of a slow, deliberate act of rebuilding. And through it all, the rangers remain the heartbeat of Upemba. They walk for days through swamp and grassland, sometimes under threat of gunfire, always under the weight of responsibility.

“They’re proud,” Antonio says. “They’ve chosen to stay, even after everything that’s happened here.”

That pride shows in small ways, like the 280 pairs of Jim Green AR8 boots the rangers have received through the Boots for Rangers initiative, a partnership between Jim Green Footwear and the Game Rangers Association of Africa.

“Before, some of the rangers wore gumboots or old army shoes that fell apart after a few weeks,” Antonio says. “Now they have something reliable.”

In a country where everything can break—roads, governments, even peace—these rangers keep moving. Each one laces up his Jim Greens, steps into a park once ruled by militias, and carries on. In Upemba, conservation isn’t a luxury or comfort. It’s courage. It’s defiance.

Cheers,
The Jim Green Team

*Through our Boots for Rangers initiative, run in partnership with the Game Rangers Association of Africa, we donate one pair of boots to a ranger for every ten pairs sold from our Ranger range. These boots are now supporting conservation teams at sites across Africa, with over 6,000 pairs already on the ground.