By Pam Chuol Joack
The establishment of the Anywaa Biosphere Reserve in Gambella Region was once hailed as a
The Anywaa Biosphere
progressive step toward environmental protection and sustainable resource management.
Today, however, it has become one of the region’s most divisive and politically charged issue, a project that many now view not as a conservation effort, but as an instrument of territorial and political domination.
What was introduced under the noble banner of biodiversity protection has quietly evolved into a mechanism of land appropriation, targeting territories traditionally inhabited by the Nuer and Majang communities.
Behind the glossy facade of environmental concern lies a story of exclusion, silence, and imbalance a reflection of how political power, when abused, can turn conservation into conquest.
According to official figures, the Anywaa Biosphere Reserve currently occupies 1,838,624 hectares out of Gambella’s total 2,978,200 hectares. This is more than half of the region’s entire landmass.
But what raises alarm is not just its size but it is where it stretches. The reserve extends deep into Nuer zone and parts of the Majang Zone lands that have long been home to communities who depend on them for farming, grazing, and survival.
This expansion, critics say, was executed without any meaningful consultation or consent from the affected populations. It was not a community-led initiative but a top-down imposition, orchestrated and approved within political corridors rather than village gatherings.
The origins of the biosphere reserve trace back to the tenure of former regional president Omot Ojullu Obup, who initially proposed it as an environmental protection zone.
Back then, the reserve respected traditional boundaries, it did not encroach into Nuer or Majang lands, and interethnic relations remained relatively calm. The landscape began to shift, however, under the current administration of President Alemitu Umot.
Under her leadership, the reserve’s borders were quietly and controversially redrawn. Areas belonging to Makuey, Wanthoa and Akobo Woredas, historically Nuer territory were suddenly included within the biosphere’s expanded perimeter.
No official public hearing was held, no compensation was offered, and no explanation was given to the communities affected. It was a unilateral expansion, hidden beneath bureaucratic paperwork and justified under the guise of “ecological necessity.”
Beyond the environmental debate lies a deeply political reality. The Anywaa, despite being a numerical minority in the region, continue to hold disproportionate political power within the Gambella Regional Government.
The Nuer majority, though demographically dominant, has been systemically silenced, marginalized, and politically sidelined. This imbalance has allowed policies that benefit the Anywaa elite to pass uncontested.
The silence of the Nuer majority has, in effect, become a license for injustice. The inclusion of Nuer lands in the biosphere reserve is therefore not just an administrative issue, it is a political statement.
It symbolizes how governance in Gambella has turned into an instrument of minority dominance cloaked in official legitimacy. In a bitter irony, the very people who should have the loudest voice in determining the region’s destiny are now the quietest, watching their lands vanish in maps, meetings, and memos drawn without them.
Both the Gambella Regional Government and the federal authorities in Addis Ababa owe an explanation, not just to the Nuer and Majang people, but to all who believe in justice and equality.
Environmental conservation cannot and should not become an excuse for political expansion or ethnic marginalization. If the purpose of the Anywaa Biosphere Reserve is truly to protect nature, then it must do so without displacing people or redrawing ethnic territories.
True conservation involves the participation of local communities, not their exclusion. The Nuer and Majang have lived in harmony with nature long before the concept of a “biosphere reserve” existed; to paint them now as environmental threats is both hypocritical and unjust.
The most dangerous response to injustice is silence, and that silence has become deafening in Gambella. The Nuer, who make up the majority, have watched quietly as decisions are made without them, as their leaders are muted, and as their ancestral lands are reclassified and renamed under administrative jargon. But history is clear and that that silence never protects the oppressed.
The time has come for the Nuer majority to speak with unity and conviction, not through violence, but through lawful, collective, and peaceful resistance. The people must demand transparency, accountability, and fairness in how regional resources and territories are managed.
If the expansion of the Anywaa Biosphere Reserve goes unchallenged, it will set a dangerous precedent, one where conservation becomes a convenient excuse for territorial control, and governance becomes synonymous with ethnic favouritism.
The federal government must urgently intervene. The reserve’s boundaries should be reviewed, corrected, and realigned to respect historical settlements and local ownership.
The communities displaced or affected should be compensated and involved in all future conservation decisions. Sustainable peace in Gambella cannot be built on silence or subjugation. It will only flourish when all ethnic groups stand on equal ground, when power reflects population, and when environmental protection aligns with social justice.
Until that day arrives, the Anywaa Biosphere Reserve will remain not a triumph of environmental stewardship but a symbol of political injustice, a reminder of how power, when left unchecked, can turn a majority into outsiders in their own homeland. Gambella’s future depends not on how much land is conserved, but on how fairly that land is shared.
This Article was Prepared and written by Pam Chuol Joack, a Gambella Vision Contributor.
He could be reached via pc*********@***il.com
