By Ephraim Agbo
In Angola today, fuel is no longer just a commodity—it’s a curse. It is the difference between getting to work or staying home hungry. Between dignity and desperation. Between silence and screams.
In the capital, Luanda, the smoke rising from burnt billboards is not just smoke—it is the cry of a people suffocating under the weight of a government that has abandoned them. The silence from power is louder than the gunshots in the streets.
💔 22 Dead. 97 Injured. 1,214 Arrested. One Nation in Pain.
What began as a peaceful protest by taxi drivers over a 34% fuel price hike has erupted into something far deeper. Something raw. Something that can’t be ignored anymore.
- 22 souls lost, including a police officer
- 97 people injured
- 1,214 arrested
- Protests spread across 7 provinces
- Over 60 buildings looted or destroyed
This isn’t just a riot—it’s a revolution of the poor, the forgotten, the invisible.
Because when bread is a luxury and transport is a dream, protest becomes the only language left.
🚖 The Kandongueiros Said “No More”
Luanda’s shared taxis—kandongueiros—are the heartbeat of the working class. But when diesel prices jumped from 300 to over 400 kwanzas per litre (~$0.40 USD), the drivers parked their vehicles—and ignited a movement.
These aren’t just taxis. They are the only way millions of Angolans can get to work, school, hospitals. When they stopped, life stopped.
And then—chaos.
🍞 “We Can’t Even Afford to Eat”
Ask any ordinary Angolan what hurts most, and they won’t mention politics. They'll tell you about the empty kitchen shelves.
- A 25kg bag of rice now costs over 13,000 kwanzas (up from 9,000)
- A loaf of bread jumped from 150 to 250 kwanzas
- A litre of cooking oil is now 3,000+ kwanzas (was 2,000)
- A basic food basket for a family: $120–150/month
- Minimum wage: just $50/month
Can you live like that? No. Neither can they.
Mothers are skipping meals. Fathers are walking miles because they can’t afford fuel. Children are going to school on empty stomachs. And still—the government says nothing.
🔫 Stones Against Bullets. Hunger Against Power.
The protesters had stones. The police had rifles. In some videos, children in school uniforms are seen looting shops—not for greed, but for food. Women sprint from clouds of tear gas.
It’s not just looting—it’s survival.
A journalist in Luanda, locked indoors due to violence, whispered the truth:
“This isn’t just about fuel. It’s about being ignored for too long. It’s about being crushed.”
🧏🏽♂️ President Lourenço? Silent.
In his 8th year in office, President João Lourenço has yet to address the nation.
Not to calm.
Not to comfort.
Not even to explain.
His silence echoes louder than the gunfire on the streets. And it stings more than the tear gas.
🛢 Oil Beneath Their Feet. Emptiness in Their Homes.
Angola is Africa’s 2nd largest oil producer, exporting 1.1 million barrels per day.
But here’s the shame: most of that oil is exported. Most of the fuel is imported. And the government’s promises of local refineries? Delayed. Forgotten. Excused.
- Benguela refinery? Still not ready.
- Cabinda refinery? Years behind.
- Luanda refinery upgrade? Promised. Never delivered.
So now, Angola sells crude oil to the world… and buys it back at a price its own people can’t afford.
✝️ Even the Church Has Failed Them
The Catholic Church in Angola, once a voice of the people, called for calm—but didn’t mention the 22 dead. Didn't ask why young people are angry. Didn’t demand protection for the poor.
And the people noticed. They feel abandoned. Again.
🗣 “We Are Not Criminals. We Are Hungry.”
This is the message scrawled on walls. Shouted in protests. Typed in desperation across social media.
Because when you live on $50 a month, and your child needs food, and your rent is $150, and the government shrugs—what else can you do but scream?
🌍 The World Must Not Look Away
This is no longer just Angola’s story—it’s Africa’s. It's the global South’s. It’s the tale of poor people standing in oil-rich lands, asking:
“Why can’t we eat from what we produce?”
The protests may fade. The tear gas may clear. But the wound remains.
And if no one listens, Angola will burn again—this time not just in the streets, but in the hearts of those who are tired of being unheard.
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