The Power of Storytelling in Conservation: Meet Antonio Longangi

Our friend of the month is Antonio Longangi from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Head of communication and visibility for the Forgotten Parks Foundation in Upemba National Park. Before entering the field of conservation communications, Antonio built a diverse career spanning humanitarian work, media, research, and creative projects. In this feature, we explore his journey, his perspective on storytelling in conservation, and the role communication plays in protecting some of the world’s most overlooked natural spaces.

Portrait of Antonio Longangi during one of his book-reading events. Photo: Alvin Walter

To begin, could you tell us a bit about your personal and professional journey and what first inspired your passion for conservation, storytelling, and communications? 

My journey has always been shaped by stories; stories of people, places, struggle, resilience, and identity. Growing up in the city of Goma, Eastern DRC, I was quickly aware of the complexity and beauty of the Congo, a country that is often misunderstood internationally despite its extraordinary cultural and ecological wealth. That awareness naturally pushed me toward storytelling and communications as a way to reclaim narratives and create visibility for overlooked realities. 

Conservation became especially meaningful to me because it sits at the intersection of nature, history, politics, culture, and human survival. What inspired me most was realising that places like Upemba are not only ecological treasures but also living symbols of resilience. Protecting them requires more than science and security; it also requires storytelling powerful enough to make people care.

You have worked across humanitarian, academic, and creative spaces before stepping into conservation communications. How have these experiences shaped the way you tell stories about people, wildlife, and protected areas? 

Those different experiences taught me that conservation cannot exist in isolation from people’s realities. Humanitarian work exposed me to communities navigating displacement, poverty, insecurity, and survival. Academic work helped me think critically about systems, history, and postcolonial dynamics. Creative work taught me how emotion, aesthetics, and narrative can move audiences more effectively than statistics alone. As a result, I approach conservation storytelling in a more holistic way. 

I do not see wildlife as disconnected from people, and I do not see protected areas as empty landscapes. Parks are social, historical, and political spaces. They contain memories, livelihoods, conflict, hope, and identity. This perspective allows me to tell stories that feel more human and grounded. Whether I am documenting elephants, rangers, or local communities, I try to highlight interconnectedness: the idea that conservation is ultimately about protecting relationships between people and nature.

Posing with Upemba National Park’s rangers after a scientific patrol with the Biomonitoring team on the Kibara plateau. Photo: Courtesy of Kris Pannecoucke 

Much of your work focuses on bringing visibility to places that are often overlooked, such as Upemba National Park in the DRC. What makes the Forgotten Parks Foundation so important for biodiversity and elephant conservation? 

What makes Forgotten Parks Foundation (FPF) important is its willingness to invest in long-term restoration, protection, and visibility for these forgotten ecosystems. FPF plays a critical role because it focuses on protected areas that are ecologically vital but historically underfunded, underrepresented, and often absent from global conservation conversations. Upemba National Park is one of Africa’s oldest protected areas and contains extraordinary biodiversity, including important elephant populations, endemic species, wetlands, savannahs, and mountain ecosystems. Yet for decades, conflict, instability, and limited resources weakened conservation efforts in the landscape. 

Conservation stories often focus on wildlife, but your work also highlights local communities and people on the frontlines. Why is it important to tell these human stories alongside conservation efforts? 

My understanding of conservation is that it is ultimately a human story as much as an ecological one. Behind every protected landscape are people making sacrifices, facing risks, and carrying responsibilities that are rarely visible to the outside world. Rangers protecting wildlife under dangerous conditions, communities adapting to environmental change, researchers working in remote areas, and local families whose lives are connected to these ecosystems; all of these stories matter. They allow us to understand conservation more holistically, with that interconnectedness at the centre of it all.

If we only focus on animals, we create an incomplete picture of conservation. Human stories create empathy and help audiences understand the complexity of protecting nature in places where social, economic, and political realities are challenging. They also restore dignity and visibility to people who are too often invisible in global narratives. I believe conservation communication becomes more powerful when it reflects both the beauty of wildlife and the humanity of those working to protect it in and outside the field.

One of the last pure savanna elephants of the DRC during the recent collaring operation in the Upemba National Park. Photo: Hugh Cunnigham Kinsella 

Storytelling can be a powerful conservation tool. Have there been any moments in the field – whether involving wildlife, rangers, or communities – that deeply moved or transformed your perspective? 

There have been many moments, but one thing that consistently moves me is witnessing the dedication of frontline conservation staff working under extremely difficult circumstances. In fact, my decision to stay and work at Upemba came from one such moment in April 2023: The Director General of ICCN (Congolese wildlife authority) was visiting the station of Lusinga for the first time. I was taking a group photo, and naturally, I would ask my subjects (rangers and their boss) to say something. I used their chant “Historia!” They replied, “Anoria!” I felt their passion for nature from that moment, and after doing that 3 times, that passion had already conquered my soul. I ran to our Site Manager, Ms Tina Lain, and asked her, “Where do I sign? Where is the contract?”

An important and defining moment in this journey was the attack against our headquarters on March 3, 2026. I was supposed to be on site that day, but after missing a flight in Addis Ababa, a 12-hour delay unexpectedly kept me away from the incident. That attack changed many things for all of us. It was a painful reminder of the very real dangers connected to the work we do and the sacrifices often carried by those on the frontlines of conservation.

Several weeks later, the team is slowly rebuilding its morale as we collectively try to redefine what the “new normal” looks like while continuing our mission. The sense of purpose that drives this work remains our strongest source of resilience. After counting our losses and confronting wounds (both visible and invisible), we are finding ways to move forward together. As Head of Communications, one of the greatest challenges has been presenting a nuanced and honest perspective on these events. Yes, we were deeply shaken, but we were not broken. What happened cannot be erased, and neither can the memory of the colleagues we lost. The most meaningful way we can honour their sacrifice is by continuing the work with even greater determination and responsibility.

In a world where attention spans are short and environmental crises compete for visibility, how can conservation communicators better engage people and inspire meaningful action for wildlife protection? 

I think conservation communicators must become better at creating emotional relevance. People are more likely to care when stories feel human, urgent, and relatable rather than distant or purely technical. Most importantly, conservation communication should not only focus on catastrophe. While environmental crises are real, people also need reasons to believe that positive change is possible. Hope, resilience, innovation, and local leadership are powerful motivators for action. I have had the privilege to see that approach working through the work of various conservation communicators and our own experimentations.

Antonio Longangi conducts a storytelling and book reading session at the library of the United States International University-Africa, Nairobi-Kenya. Photo: Franklin Rashid

Looking ahead, what role do you think young Africans - especially storytellers, photographers, and communicators - can play in shaping the future of conservation across the continent? 

Young Africans have an incredibly important role to play because they understand the realities, cultures, and complexities of the continent from within. For too long, African conservation stories have often been told externally. That is changing, and it is necessary that it changes. African storytellers, photographers, filmmakers, journalists, and communicators help create more nuanced, authentic, and locally grounded narratives about conservation. 

Beyond storytelling, young creatives can help bridge conservation with culture, music, technology, urban youth engagement, and digital innovation. Conservation should not feel like a distant or elitist topic; it should feel connected to identity, future opportunities, and collective responsibility. I believe the future of conservation in Africa will depend greatly on empowering a new generation of African voices to lead the narrative.

Finally, when you think about the future of elephants, protected areas, and biodiversity in Africa, what gives you hope, and what is your vision for conservation in the years ahead? 

What gives me hope is resilience; the resilience of nature, of communities, and of people who continue protecting these landscapes despite enormous challenges. I am encouraged by the growing number of young Africans entering conservation, the increasing use of technology and storytelling in protection efforts, and the recognition that conservation must involve communities rather than exclude them. My vision for the future is a model of conservation that is more inclusive, locally driven, and culturally connected. I hope to see African protected areas not only surviving, but becoming spaces of pride, education, research, creativity, and sustainable opportunity.