For years, Bukavu stood as a symbol of corruption, abuse of authority, and inefficiency. The city, once full of promise, had been reduced to a shell of what it could have been. Under the heavy hand of Kinshasa’s rule, its people were forced into submission, their daily lives dictated by an administration that bled them dry.
At the border, bribes were the law of the land. Crossing meant paying a hefty price, whether you were a merchant trying to do business, a student seeking education, or even a traveler with legitimate documents. Soldiers and officers enriched themselves at the expense of a struggling population, while the Tshisekedi administration choked the city’s economy, turning it into a place of despair.
But today, that reality has crumbled.
The fall of Bukavu, following the swift takeover of Goma, has sent shockwaves through Kinshasa. The government, once arrogant and dismissive, is now frantically scrambling for solutions. FARDC, disoriented and leaderless, has failed to mount any meaningful resistance. In their desperate retreat, they leave behind weapons, uniforms, and a population eager to welcome change.
“It’s Over. The City is Liberated.”
As M23 forces marched into Bukavu this morning, their discipline and precision stood in stark contrast to the FARDC’s chaotic withdrawal. Checkpoints that once symbolized oppression were abandoned. Instead of fear, a wave of celebration swept through the city.
In the streets, people cheered. Some wept—tears not of sorrow, but of relief. One voice in particular stood out, rising above the crowd in a video that has now gone viral:
“It’s over. The city is liberated.”
The words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of suffering. For many, this was the first time in their lives that they could walk freely without looking over their shoulders.
A Commander’s Assurances: “You Can Count on Us”
In the heart of Bukavu, the commander leading the M23 squad stood before the cheering masses. His voice was calm but firm, his presence a sharp contrast to the terrified officials who had fled overnight. He raised his hand, and the crowd hushed. “You can count on us. You are safe and free to move 24/7.”
The reaction was instantaneous—applause, whistles, and cries of joy. It was a declaration that marked a turning point for Bukavu. The people, long accustomed to curfews, military harassment, and arbitrary arrests, were now told that their city was theirs once again.
A Direct Message to Kinshasa: “We Will Remove Him”
But the commander did not stop there. He addressed the elephant in the room—the failures of the Tshisekedi administration. With confidence, he spoke the words that many in the crowd had longed to hear:
“The Tshisekedi administration has economically choked this city and deprived its people of prosperity. We will remove him.”
The crowd erupted, chanting slogans of defiance against a government that had turned its back on them. For the first time in years, they felt heard.
The Execution of Major Patrick: A City’s Wound
Even amid the celebrations, a dark shadow loomed over the city. Earlier in the morning, Major Patrick, a respected officer of the Road Traffic Police (PCR), was gruesomely executed in Uvira.
Major Patrick had been a known figure in Bukavu—a man who had once ensured order on its roads, now lying dead, his blood staining the very soil he had served.
Fleeing Bukavu like many others in FARDC, he had sought temporary refuge near a police station. But his physical features led to his doom. Mistaken for a Tutsi/Munyamulenge, he was arbitrarily accused and summarily executed by FARDC and Wazalendo forces. His true origins—from Kisangani—meant nothing to his killers.
His murder sent shockwaves through Bukavu. It was a chilling reminder of the ethnic hatred that the Tshisekedi government had fostered—a hatred that had now claimed the life of an innocent officer.
A City Transformed: Order and Optimism
As the sun rose higher over Bukavu, the transformation was unmistakable. The once tense streets were filled with people embracing, taking pictures, and walking without fear. The images coming out of the city told a story that no government propaganda could silence:
•Soldiers posing for selfies with civilians, a scene unimaginable just a day before.
•M23 fighters directing traffic, taking over roles that the now-absent police once failed to manage.
•Women embracing soldiers, relief and gratitude written all over their faces.
The contrast was staggering. Bukavu, once a city where people whispered their frustrations in fear, was now alive with open voices, chants, and hope.
The Shockwaves Reach Kinshasa
As Bukavu and Goma celebrate, Kinshasa trembles. The fall of two major cities in quick succession has rattled the Tshisekedi administration, leaving it exposed and desperate.
FARDC, once hailed as the defender of the regime, has collapsed under its own corruption and incompetence. Commanders have abandoned their troops. Soldiers, realizing the futility of their fight, have fled or surrendered.
Tshisekedi, now running out of both excuses and options, faces his greatest crisis yet. The international community watches as the façade of his government crumbles, unable to justify the failures that have led to this moment.
A New Era, or Just the Beginning?
As Bukavu basks in its newfound freedom, one question lingers: What comes next?
For the people, today is a day of jubilation and relief. But the real battle—the fight for lasting peace, prosperity, and justice—has only just begun.
And as M23 advances, Kinshasa knows—this is far from over.
