- Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane has been the customary chief of the Mudja community near Virunga National Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo since 2001, having ascended to power through family heritage and assuming the role of a protector — both of his community and the environment, which is home to many rare and endangered species.
- Over the course of decades, Indigenous communities with ancestral homes in Virunga have been expelled from the park; today, decades-old conflict has flared in the region, with a surge of M23 rebel violence that has displaced more than a million people in 2025 so far.
- The chief tells Mongabay that culture and nature are one, and that culture plays a critical part in the community’s conservation efforts in and around Virunga.
- Many of the Mudja community’s traditional customs work to preserve, rather than exploit, plant and animal species, the chief explains.
Virunga is Africa’s first national park, created by Belgian royal decree in 1925. Named for the mountains that straddle the borders between modern-day Democratic Republic of Congo, Uganda and Rwanda, the park spans 790,000 hectares (almost 2 million acres). It’s a biodiversity hotspot home to endangered and vulnerable wildlife species — lions (Panthera leo), hippopotamuses (Hippopotamus amphibius), mountain gorillas (Gorilla beringei beringei), chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes), okapis (Okapia johnstoni) and more.
It is also the ancestral home of Indigenous peoples who, though the course of decades, have been forcibly evicted from these lands, dating back to colonial times.
In 1994, Virunga National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site, was inscribed on the List of World Heritage in Danger due to the war in neighboring Rwanda and the massive influx of refugees from that country. This led to significant deforestation and poaching and the presence of armed militias. Today, rebel groups have infiltrated the area, as decades-old conflicts wage on.
But dozens of Indigenous communities continue to live just inside and near the park as well. Currently, to the south, Virunga is bordered by a chiefdom called Bakumu, which includes a total of 58 villages in seven distinct groupings. One of those groupings is called Mudja, which currently has eight villages of 4,862 inhabitants who trace their origins to two villages, called Kishari and Toro, in the center of the park. According to the Mudja chief, the people lived there until they were expelled more than half a century ago.
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane has been the customary chief of the Mudja grouping since 2001. He came to the chairmanship through family inheritance from father to son. Today, married to five women and the father of 27 children, he lives off the fields and animal farms located on Virunga’s southern edge, on land he inherited.
While the nearby city of Goma is currently under the M23 rebel boots, on May 13, Chief Bitini agreed to answer Mongabay’s questions on a sensitive topic: the role of culture in the conservation of the Virunga National Park. This interview was translated from Swahili and edited for clarity and length.
Mongabay: Can you tell us a little about yourself? How and for how long have you been the traditional chief of the Mudja grouping?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: I have been the customary chief of the Mudja community since 2001. In our culture, the chairmanship is transmitted from father to first son, as well as to the first grandson, which means I inherited this responsibility. In our culture, women do not accede to the chairmanship; instead, they become midwives or advisers for the other women in the villages. Well, I am also the father of 27 children, from a polygamous marriage to five women, which is common here and an integral part of our social structure.
Mongabay: What does it mean for you to be chief of the Mudja community? How does it make you feel? What are your responsibilities as a leader?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Being a community chief is an honor, but it implies enormous responsibilities. You are well-received, cared for, respected and you lack nothing. But in return, you must shoulder responsibilities and make decisions that are sometimes difficult and dangerous for you and your family, to better manage and protect your community. You must know who does what in your community and where they do it to better protect them. I consider myself a shepherd who, at all times, must watch over and guide his flock within their pastures. But you also must defend them in times of danger. It is a sacred responsibility in our culture, and it brings me great satisfaction.
Mongabay: What are your daily tasks in this important role as community chief?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Today, with the M23 reign in the region, my activities are no longer as usual. Before, all the sub-chiefs of the eight villages that constitute our community were supposed to come in the meeting (baraza) to my home every morning to report on our community’s situation. But currently, several sub-chiefs have fled their villages because of the war situation. I am therefore obliged to go to each village three to four times per week to inquire about their situation.
I myself used to go to my fields and farms when the situation was good, but currently, I am obliged to stay at home and take care of my family and a few members of my community. Currently, everything is not really happening as before.
Mongabay: What do the members of your community do for a living? What are their activities?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Before, when our numbers were not yet too large, we were in the park and lived by hunting and gathering. We hunted rats, snakes, forest pigs, hippopotamuses and giraffes for festive occasions like New Year’s, and bonobos [Pan paniscus] were only killed for special guests in the village, among other things. However, currently, we are here in Mudja; it is not possible to hunt since we no longer see the animals; they have gone very far into the forest because of the rebel groups, but also because the park rangers forbid us from entering.
Today, the majority of the people of Mudja are farmers, and that is their main activity. They cultivate various products such as cabbage, beans, corn, banana and eucalyptus. Their work is not only limited to feeding their families, but they also contribute to supplying the city of Goma and its surroundings with first essential products. Thanks to this work, some are currently able to send their children to school in Goma and take care of their families, which is essential for the development of our community.
Mongabay: I see, that is really a good thing. Now, can you tell us a little about your ritual practices in the Mudja community?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Of course. In Mudja, our ritual practices depend on the objectives we are pursuing.
For the installation of a new king, the newly elected king is welcomed in a small house called tchihanda, surrounded by mirimba, a plant that symbolizes protection and blessing in our culture. He sits there from evening until early morning. This duration is important because it allows us to invite the ancestral spirits of the village, bless the king and imbue him with the strength and wisdom necessary to lead our community. The next day, seated on a litter called tipoye, the king is carried by four people. He passes through the eight villages of Mudja, accompanied by other notable figures from the village, and behind them, the young boys who beat drums while singing and dancing. This allows the villagers to officially recognize him as their king, thus reinforcing his bond with the people.
In case of a threat, such as a volcanic eruption, there are sacred words we [all the local leaders] pronounce to stop the eruption. We climb the mountain, and once we reach the summit, we turn our backs to the volcano and crouch down; for us, this is a sign of respect for nature and our ancestors who are present on the hills. After that, we perform our rituals, speaking some sacred words from our customs in our native language. A symbolic act that stops the eruption through our collective faith and the help of our ancestors.
There is also an ancient practice that involves a virgin girl. By simply showing her the mountain of the volcano, we believe it is possible to influence nature to prevent an eruption.
We also have other rituals to prevent misfortunes. Sometimes, we prepare a traditional drink in a container [nkata] to drink while performing our rituals. By pronouncing certain sacred words, we invoke peace and harmony for our community and our villages.
These rituals are essential to our culture and reflect our deep connection with our lands confiscated in the park, the spirits and our community. They constitute a heritage that we preserve with care and pride.
Mongabay: Today, as you just mentioned, park rangers forbid entry or sometimes expel local communities from the park. Do you think that cultures play an important role in conservation? If so, can you provide an example?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Of course. In ancient times, before the rangers chased us away and rebel groups invaded our territories, for example, the forest was everything to us; we lacked for nothing in terms of food, medicine or clothing, and we felt safe on our lands. So why wouldn’t we respect and care for the forest? It gave us life, took care of us and has sheltered us for millennia.
Let me share with you a more specific cultural practice: the harvesting of the bark from the mbalale tree [Cynometra hankei], for example. The mbalale is a powerful tree, and its bark is essential for us. It cures many ailments such as headaches, fevers, fractures and deep wounds as well as cancer and so on. However, our ancestors taught us that we should not take the bark from the mbalale carelessly. During the dry season from June to August, we do not take this bark because we do not want the tree to dry out. Our culture strictly forbids this.
The rule passed down from generation to generation teaches us that when we need the bark, we must never remove it entirely from around the trunk. We only take a vertical strip from one side of the tree. And even before touching the tree, there is a small ritual to ask permission from the spirit of the tree and the forest, to show our respect and promise to take only what is strictly necessary.
Mongabay: Why this rule?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Our ancestors knew that if someone girdles the tree by taking all the bark, the tree will die. But by taking only a part, we allow the tree to heal, continue to live and provide us with its bark for as long as possible for future generations.
Some might see this ritual as a simple belief, but you see that it is more ecological and conservation-minded. This is etched in the minds of all community members. If someone transgresses this rule, he is not only seen as a deserter [who betrays the community trust], but he also offends the spirit of the forest and shows disrespect to the ancestors and the entire community. Sometimes, the shame and the gaze of others are more torturous and often more effective than a fine.
You see that this cultural practice is an incredibly effective conservation strategy. It ensures that this vital resource remains available to us, for our children and for our grandchildren. It is not a law written by experts from elsewhere; no, it is our culture that protects our forest. And this is not just for this plant but for many others as well.
So, to return to your question: yes, culture is at the heart of the preservation of the forest and all its other resources.
Mongabay: Are there any medicinal plants or totem animals that are very important in your culture, that you used in your rituals in ancient times and you no longer see today? If so, can you give us some examples?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Apart from the mirimba, which helps us in the rituals of the chiefs, we do not use plants for our rituals; they are only used for healing diseases, building our small houses and sometimes for clothing. For our traditional rituals, we customarily use totem animals such as the lion, the leopard and the mountain gorilla.
The lion, with its power and courage, represents strength and authority; in our culture, only one individual of this species was killed, if and only if a king had died. In such a case, this animal would be killed, its skin removed and then used to clothe a new king. This killed animal was not eaten by community members but was rather buried with the deceased king. Otherwise, all community members were supposed to respect and ensure the protection of every individual of this species in the forest. And when this animal gave birth, the whole village rejoiced. For us village chiefs, it was a blessing and proof that we were on good terms with our predecessor chiefs.
The leopard, with its discretion and agility, symbolizes knowledge and wisdom. Its skin was worn by two or three wise men from the king’s council. As for the mountain gorilla, it embodies the presence of our deceased ancestors among us, the living. It also represents the strength and protection of the community.
These animals carry significant meanings in our culture and serve as intermediaries between our world and the spirit world. Every member of the community has a duty to protect and watch over them. Their presence is essential to ensure the continuity of our traditions and the prosperity of our people.
Unfortunately, these totem animals are currently endangered. Continuous hunting and habitat destruction due to wars are decimating their populations. In the past, we, the Mudja, were the guardians of these sacred animals. We understood that their disappearance would lead to the loss of our culture. However, since the park rangers expelled us from the park and rebel groups invaded the region, our ability to control and protect them has been compromised.
Mongabay: How does this make you feel? How do you currently conduct your rituals, and what can be done to halt their decline?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: Grief and sadness are the feelings I carry.
Today, we are forced to use the old lion and leopard skins inherited from our ancestors to perpetuate our rituals. These sacred artifacts serve as a poignant reminder that we are losing our culture. Therefore, the preservation of these animals is a matter of cultural survival for the Mudja.
To protect them, I believe the Congolese government needs to find ways to restore peace in the region. In the meantime, we must establish strong partnerships with journalists to expose these acts as well as with park rangers and environmental staff to reintegrate best practices for co-managing the park and its resources.
Mongabay: Can you tell us about the conflicts between local communities and park rangers before the arrival of M23? How did your expulsion from the park come about?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: During the Belgian Congo period, particularly around the year 1924, all the customary chiefs were consulted by the managers to discuss the necessary measures to create and ensure the preservation of Virunga National Park. At that time, the village chiefs had made agreements to collaborate with the managers, which included an understanding that the park rangers would provide money to the chiefs for building schools and markets in the villages [at that time, inside the park]. Unfortunately, around the year 1945, this agreement was violated by the park rangers, which initially created tensions between our communities and the rangers.
As time went on, around 1972, the park rangers began to take away certain ritual areas along with our fields since they were located in the forest, a few kilometers from our villages. After that, they pursued us into the villages and brutally ordered us to leave. Driven by our love for our territories, we tried to defend our lands, but they were armed with rifles, while we only had spears and arrows. It was war, a hunt … and often when I think about it, it is not easy to support … not only having lost some of my brothers, but especially having lost those spaces that are our roots, where the fathers of our grandfathers lie to rest. But, well, there’s nothing we can do about it.
Currently, we will never be able to access those areas again. Villages such as Tamba, Kishari and Toro within the park were places where we practiced our rituals before the park rangers appropriated those lands.
Today, we are here in Mudja and we have created places, not far in the forest, where we practice our rituals if there is a need to do so without the eyes of many people upon us. We make do with that and adapt little by little. We have created an environment and activities to meet our needs, and my role as chief is to ensure a climate of peace for my community with all other groups, including the park rangers. We are forced to accept that.
Mongabay: Do you have any solutions you would like to suggest to finally eradicate these conflicts?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: I believe it is essential to reinstate a dialogue between the park managers and the culture chiefs. My wish is that the government could facilitate this meeting to respect the rules that were established previously.
It is crucial to clearly redefine the boundaries in order to distinguish the areas controlled by the park rangers from those controlled by us, the community chiefs. This would allow for exploring the possibilities of returning our lands, fields and hills within the park or permanently allocating lands here in Mudja. This would ensure that everyone has command over their land.
Moreover, park rangers should see us as normal people with rights to their lands. I am convinced that if we manage to establish a framework of mutual respect, we could restore peace and foster harmonious coexistence between the community, the park rangers, and the biodiversity, which is the center of interest for all of us, will be well protected.
Mongabay: What message do you want to send to the world about the benefits of culture in the conservation of the parks?
Bitini Ndiyanabo Kanane: To the whole world, I can only reiterate that culture and nature are one. Here in Mudja, our cultures are the guardians of nature. They do not aim to destroy it; rather, they aim to protect it.
Take, for example, the bark of the mbalale that I mentioned to you; similarly, our totem animals, such as the lion, the leopard and the gorilla, are at the heart of our identity and our rituals. The strict rules surrounding their protection or the hunting of other species are not arbitrary. When we protect them, we protect a part of ourselves, a part of our culture and our history.
My message is that the world should recognize and value local communities and their cultures. Because if [others] have found the forests, which they are now exploiting … it is thanks to us and our customs. So, instead of driving us away and mistreating us, they should approach us to lead a comprehensive management effort, as the forest is, for us, a mother, and taking care of it is our ultimate duty.
Banner image: Mountain gorillas (Gorilla beringei beringei) in Virunga National Park. Image by Cai Tjeenk Willink via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 3.0).
Through colonization, conflicts and conservation: 100 years of Virunga National Park
Citation:
Sabiha, S., Serrano, R., Hasan, K., Moreira da Silva, I. B., Rocha, J., Islam, N., & Silva, O. (2022). The genus Cynometra: A review of Ethnomedicine, chemical, and biological data. Plants, 11(24), 3504. doi:10.3390/plants11243504
Credits
This story first appeared on Mongabay
This article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
You may republish this article, so long as you credit the authors and Mongabay, and do not change the text. Please include a link back to the original article.
