Hundreds of people gathered daily at Total's site, desperate for evacuation.
In the Cabo Delgado province of northern Mozambique, a region rich in natural gas yet among Africa's poorest, an Islamist insurgency linked to the Islamic State has driven nearly one million people into severe hunger as of April 2021. The attack on the town of Palma in late March sent hundreds of thousands fleeing, collapsing whatever fragile stability remained in a place already strained by years of displacement. The United Nations, appealing for $82 million in emergency aid, warned that what was unfolding was not a passing crisis but a large and enduring one — a reminder that where conflict and poverty meet, hunger is rarely far behind.
- Islamic State-linked militants stormed Palma in late March 2021, triggering a mass exodus that pushed the total number of displaced Mozambicans past hundreds of thousands and left twelve beheaded bodies in the town's aftermath.
- The World Food Programme now counts 950,000 people facing severe food insecurity, with some receiving towns doubling or tripling in population almost overnight as desperate families pour in with nothing.
- Tens of thousands remain trapped inside Palma district or drifting between locations, uncounted by official registries and unreachable by the humanitarian agencies scrambling to map the scale of the crisis.
- The $20 billion gas development site at Quitunda — itself built to house people displaced by extraction — became an improvised refuge, with hundreds camping outside Total's gates begging for evacuation before the company withdrew its own staff.
- The Mozambican government and aid organizations are locked in a dispute over who bears responsibility for the response, even as the people caught between them go hungry and unprotected.
- UN officials have issued a stark warning: this crisis is large, it will last a long time, and without sustained international support, the suffering will deepen well beyond what current numbers already reveal.
In mid-April 2021, the World Food Programme reported from Geneva that 950,000 people in northern Mozambique were facing severe food insecurity — a number that had surged after Islamic State-linked militants attacked Palma, a town in Cabo Delgado province, in late March. The assault sent hundreds of thousands fleeing their homes, abandoning livelihoods and whatever they could not carry. WFP spokesman Tomson Phiri described families stripped of everything, while Manuel Fontaine of UNICEF was direct: this was a large crisis, and it would likely last a long time. The agency appealed for $82 million in emergency funding.
Palma is no ordinary town. It sits beside massive gas development projects operated by Total and Exxon, making the attack both a humanitarian catastrophe and a strike at the infrastructure of a region being reshaped by foreign investment. By February, roughly 690,000 people had already been displaced across Mozambique. The Palma assault added at least 16,500 newly registered displaced persons — but those were only the ones who reached official counting points. Tens of thousands more remained trapped or in motion, their whereabouts uncertain.
Many fled to Quitunda, a settlement Total had built to house people displaced by its own $20 billion gas project. The irony was difficult to ignore: a company town designed to manage development-driven displacement had become a refuge from violence. Food was scarce there, protection absent. Hundreds gathered daily outside Total's gates hoping for evacuation. On April 2, Total withdrew its staff and suspended operations in the provincial capital, Pemba. The machinery of extraction stopped; the people it had uprooted remained.
The Mozambican government faced sharp criticism from the Centre for Public Integrity, which argued authorities had largely stepped back and left aid organizations to manage the emergency alone. Many people, the center noted, had never escaped the conflict zones — not by choice, but because they had no means to leave. Government officials insisted they had been engaged throughout, coordinating with the UN and NGOs. The argument over responsibility changed nothing for those who were hungry and trapped.
Police and military officials found twelve beheaded bodies in Palma after the attack, believed to be foreigners, their identities still being determined. Cabo Delgado is one of Mozambique's few Muslim-majority provinces, a fact woven into the insurgency's origins. The country remains among Africa's poorest despite its natural resources — a paradox that shapes both its vulnerability and its capacity to respond. The hunger crisis was not incidental to the conflict. It was the conflict's most direct and measurable consequence.
In the northern reaches of Mozambique, nearly a million people are now going hungry. The World Food Programme made this stark assessment public in mid-April 2021, delivering the numbers from a Geneva briefing: 950,000 individuals facing severe food insecurity across a region convulsed by violence. The crisis had accelerated sharply after Islamic State-linked militants attacked Palma, a town in Cabo Delgado province, in late March. The assault sent hundreds of thousands fleeing their homes, abandoning whatever they could not carry, searching for any place that felt safer than where they had been.
Palma sits adjacent to massive gas development projects—Total and Exxon among the companies with stakes in the infrastructure. The attack was not random; it struck at the heart of a region being transformed by energy extraction, where foreign investment and local conflict had become entangled. The WFP's appeal was direct: they needed $82 million to address the emergency. Tomson Phiri, the agency's spokesman, described families forced to abandon not just their homes but their livelihoods, adding fresh catastrophe to conditions that were already dire. Manuel Fontaine, director of emergencies for the UN Children's Fund, was blunt in his assessment: this was a large crisis, and it would likely last a long time.
The displacement had been building for months. By February, roughly 690,000 people had already been forced from their homes across Mozambique. The Palma attack triggered another wave—at least 16,500 newly registered as displaced in the weeks that followed, according to the International Organization for Migration. But those figures captured only those who had made it to official counting points. Tens of thousands more remained stuck within Palma district itself or were moving between locations, their status uncertain, their whereabouts tracked only by humanitarian agencies trying to piece together the scale of the exodus.
Many of the displaced had fled to Quitunda, a settlement built by Total to house people displaced by its $20 billion gas project. The irony was sharp: a company town designed to manage displacement from development had become a refuge from violence. But Quitunda offered little. Food was scarce. Protection was absent. Hundreds of people gathered daily at Total's site, desperate enough to camp outside the company's operations in hopes of evacuation. On April 2, Total withdrew its staff from the area due to militant activity nearby. The company also suspended work in Pemba, the provincial capital. The machinery of extraction had stopped; the people it had displaced remained.
The Mozambican government faced accusations of mismanagement. The Centre for Public Integrity argued that authorities had largely abdicated responsibility, leaving aid organizations to shoulder the burden of response. Many people, the center noted, had never left the conflict zones at all—not because they chose to stay, but because they lacked any means to reach safer ground. The government's National Institute for Disaster Risk Management pushed back, insisting it had been engaged from the start, working with the UN and NGOs to provide assistance. The dispute over who was responsible for the crisis did nothing to address the immediate reality: people were hungry, displaced, and trapped.
The violence had claimed visible casualties. Police and military officials reported finding twelve beheaded bodies in Palma after the attack. Authorities were still working to identify them, though officials believed they were foreigners. The discovery underscored the brutality of the conflict and the chaos of the assault itself. Mozambique's population is predominantly Christian, but Cabo Delgado stands as one of the few provinces with a Muslim majority—a demographic distinction that had become relevant to understanding the insurgency's roots and reach. The country itself remains among Africa's poorest despite its natural resources, a paradox that shapes everything from governance capacity to humanitarian response. The Islamist insurgency, after years of relative peace following earlier wars, had emerged as a rapidly accelerating threat. The hunger crisis was not separate from the conflict; it was the conflict's direct consequence, measured in the bodies and empty bellies of nearly a million people.
Citas Notables
Families and individuals have had to abandon their belongings and livelihoods and flee for safety, adding to an already desperate situation in Northern Mozambique.— Tomson Phiri, World Food Programme spokesman
We are facing both a large and likely long-lasting humanitarian situation.— Manuel Fontaine, UN Children's Fund director of emergencies
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that Palma sits next to gas projects? Does the insurgency have something to do with the development itself?
The location is significant because it shows where the violence is concentrated—right where foreign companies are extracting resources. Whether the insurgency is directly motivated by the gas projects or simply exploits the instability they create, the result is the same: displacement happens where development happens.
The government says it's been helping. The aid organizations say it hasn't. Who's right?
Both statements can be true. The government may be coordinating with agencies, but coordination isn't the same as capacity. When hundreds of thousands of people are on the move, even genuine effort can look like failure from the ground.
Why would Total build a settlement for displaced people if the company was causing the displacement?
That's the structure of development projects in fragile regions. Companies are often required to mitigate their own impact—to house and compensate people they displace. But when violence erupts, those settlements become refugee camps, and the company's responsibility becomes impossible to fulfill.
Twelve beheaded bodies. That's a detail that stands out. What does it tell us?
It tells us the attack was not surgical or controlled. It was brutal and chaotic. And the fact that authorities can't identify the bodies suggests the violence happened fast enough that no one was documenting who was where.
A million people hungry. Is that the worst humanitarian crisis in Africa right now?
It's one of several. But what makes Mozambique distinct is that it's happening in a country with resources—gas, minerals—that should theoretically fund development and stability. The crisis exists in the shadow of wealth that isn't reaching the people who need it.