A chartered private jet carrying Congo’s Mines Minister and a high-level delegation skidded off a runway and erupted into flames on November 17, 2025 – just hours after they departed Kinshasa for the site of a deadly mine bridge collapse that claimed 32 lives. Miraculously, all 18 aboard the EMB-145 jet operated by Airjet Angola walked away unscathed, but the aircraft was declared a total loss, its tail section engulfed in black smoke as it lay crumpled on its side at Kolwezi Airport in Lualaba province. The incident, captured in harrowing video footage showing plumes of fire and debris, has thrust a spotlight on the Democratic Republic of Congo’s fragile infrastructure and aviation woes, coming on the heels of the nation’s latest industrial tragedy. As investigators swarm the scene and the minister’s team shifts to ground transport, the double blow raises chilling questions: In a country rich in minerals but poor in safeguards, how many more disasters must unfold before real change takes flight?

The crash unfolded around 2 p.m. local time, as the jet – packed with Mines Minister Louis Watum Kabamba, 63, and 17 other officials – approached Kolwezi’s short, weathered runway. Eyewitnesses described a routine descent turning nightmarish: The plane touched down hard, veered sharply off the tarmac, and plowed into the grass, its undercarriage buckling before flames licked the fuselage. Shaky cellphone videos, shared widely on X and TikTok, show the tail ablaze and thick smoke billowing skyward, with emergency crews rushing in amid shouts in French and Lingala. “It was like watching a sparkler go wrong – one minute it’s landing, the next it’s a bonfire,” said local airport worker Jean-Paul Mbuyi, 42, who helped douse the fire with foam extinguishers. No injuries were reported among the crew or passengers, a fact hailed as “a miracle” by Airjet Angola in their swift statement: “We would like to reassure everyone by confirming that there were no casualties. All crew and passengers are safe, which is always the most important thing for us.”

The delegation’s mission was urgent and somber: Responding to the collapse of a makeshift bridge at the Kalando artisanal gold mine near Kolwezi on November 16, where overcrowding turned a routine crossing into catastrophe. At least 32 miners – mostly young men scavenging in the unregulated site’s treacherous pits – plummeted into a swollen ravine when the rope-and-plank span gave way under their weight. Rescue teams, hampered by heavy rains and poor access roads, pulled out 28 bodies by dawn, with four more feared trapped in the mud. “It was chaos – screams, then silence,” recounted survivor Emile Kabila, 29, a local digger who lost two cousins in the fall. “The bridge was a joke, held by prayers and prayers alone. No inspections, no warnings. This is how we die here.” The mine, one of hundreds of informal operations fueling Congo’s $24 billion cobalt and gold boom, operates in a regulatory black hole, where foreign firms like Glencore extract billions while locals risk lives for scraps.

Kabamba, a veteran bureaucrat appointed in 2023 under President Félix Tshisekedi’s anti-corruption push, was en route to assess the site and roll out emergency aid when the jet faltered. His communications advisor, Isaac Nyembo, confirmed the drama: “The aircraft was flying from the capital, Kinshasa, when it ran off the runway during landing at Kolwezi airport in Lualaba province.” Preliminary reports finger a possible hydraulic failure or pilot error amid gusty winds, but the cause remains under probe by Congo’s ANAC (National Civil Aviation Authority) and Brazil’s Embraer, the jet’s manufacturer. Airjet, a Kinshasa-based carrier with a spotty safety record (a 2022 grounding for maintenance lapses), pledged full cooperation: “Despite this, the aircraft was considered a total loss. We are collaborating with aeronautical authorities in the investigation, following international safety protocols.” No alcohol or drug tests on the crew have been disclosed, but sources close to the inquiry whisper of “overloaded manifests” – a chronic issue in Congo’s aviation sector, where bribes often trump checklists.

The twin tragedies have ignited a national outcry, blending grief with rage over the DRC’s “resource curse.” The bridge collapse, the latest in a string of mine mishaps (over 200 dead in similar incidents since 2020), exposed the perils of artisanal mining: 40% of Congo’s cobalt – vital for EV batteries – comes from hand-dug hellholes where kids as young as 7 toil for pennies. “Kabamba was coming to fix what corruption broke,” fumed activist Patrick Muyaya, head of the Kolwezi Miners’ Collective. “Now his plane nearly joins the graves. When will Kinshasa care?” Protests erupted in Kolwezi on November 18, with 500 locals blocking mine roads, demanding inspections and royalties. Tshisekedi’s government, facing U.S. sanctions threats over graft, airlifted $2 million in aid but drew jeers for “too little, too late.”

Aviation experts aren’t mincing words. “Congo’s skies are a roulette wheel,” said Paul Edwards, a former FAA consultant. “Short runways, no radar, pilots flying on fumes – it’s a miracle more don’t crash.” Airjet’s fleet, mostly leased Brazilian jets, has dodged major incidents, but a 2019 near-miss at Ndjili Airport raised red flags. Embraer dispatched investigators November 18, vowing a “black box” analysis within weeks. For now, Kabamba’s team – including deputy ministers and engineers – hunkered in a Kolwezi hotel, coordinating relief by chopper. “We’re alive, but shaken,” Nyembo told Reuters. “The minister says: ‘We fly for the forgotten – today, we drive.’”

As flames cool and floods recede, Congo’s double whammy underscores a brutal irony: A nation drowning in minerals starves for basics. The Kalando 32? Buried in hasty graves, their families clutching $50 compensation checks. The Horizon 18? Safe, but scarred – a reminder that even ministers aren’t immune. Kabamba, eyes steely in a post-crash briefing, vowed: “This bridge, this runway – they’re symptoms of a sick system. We’ll rebuild, but only if we root out the rot.” With global eyes on Congo’s cobalt (80% of world supply), the disasters could spark reforms – or just more headlines.

In Lualaba’s dusty dawn November 19, as crews cleared runway wreckage and mine shafts echoed with picks, one thing’s clear: Survival here isn’t luck. It’s defiance. For Anna Kepner? Wait, no – for the 32 miners and 18 officials, it’s a fragile flight over failure’s edge. Congo’s not just mining gold – it’s mining miracles. But how many more crashes before the curse breaks?