The Lobito Corridor, however, promises much more than a fast exit route for Africa's metals.
It is intended to be an economic booster in its own right, creating agricultural, metals and technology hubs along its 1,800-kilometre (1,120-mile) route.
Western partners in the project are investing not just in hard infrastructure but also in what the European Union describes as "soft connectivity", meaning trade facilitation, technical and vocational training, and a focus on creating local employment.
The results are already tangible in Angola, where railway infrastructure is simply being upgraded rather than built from scratch, as will be the case for the planned extension into Zambia in 2030. Upgrades create more immediate economic opportunity in the local economy.
Congo's copper and cobalt are now accompanied on their journey to Lobito by Angolan agricultural goods from the country's farming heartland in Huambo province.
Angola exported its first avocados to Europe last November thanks to an EU-funded trade logistics platform and a €50-million investment programme in sustainable agricultural chains.
This holistic approach to the Lobito Corridor offers one way out of Africa's historic resource trap.
Even building processing plants doesn't necessarily spread any wealth through the local economy if they operate as export-oriented fiscal enclaves.
Congo's copper production is now largely in the form of high-purity refined metal, but the country still exports almost all of it to China for conversion into manufactured goods.
That needs to change if Africa is to grab a larger share of its mineral revenues.
Perhaps the single biggest challenge facing African countries seeking to convert mineral wealth into long-term economic growth is how to deal with their traditional workforce.
It's estimated that around 10 million people are directly involved in artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) in Africa, with many more dependent on it for subsistence.
Africans have been mining for thousands of years, and collective small-scale operations have been the norm for most of that time, particularly in rural areas with low employment prospects.
It's dangerous work, but that doesn't prevent the participation of both women and children. Fatalities are common and the environmental impact can be devastating.
The word "artisanal" implies a degree of free agency, but ASM is often more akin to bonded labour. The ore dug out of the ground is sold to middlemen at a fraction of its true value.
In conflict zones such as Congo's eastern provinces and some Sahel countries, ASM can be outright forced labour at mines controlled by insurgent groups.
Africa's historical miners operate in a dark zone thanks to colonial-era laws declaring all such "native" operations illegal.
The result is the criminalisation of millions of people, lost revenue for states and an ethical dilemma for Western companies, many of which are understandably wary of buying metal that may include ASM ore.
There are multiple efforts to "formalise" ASM by integrating the workforce into the official mining sector.
The most ambitious is in Congo, which has long been targeted by campaigners for its "blood" cobalt.
Kinshasa has tried and failed before to find ways of merging its "illegal" miners into the official sector.
But new cobalt export quota controls and enhanced powers for the mining regulator, the Entreprise Générale du Cobalt, promise better results from a new scheme launched with Eurasian Resources Group.
The irony is that if the West wants Congo's cobalt and doesn't want to rely on Chinese operators, it needs to source from the ASM sector. But the metal has to come with guarantees that it's untarnished by human rights abuses.
It's in everyone's interests to bring Africa's original miners in from the cold. Indeed, for Africa itself, it may be the single most important lever it can pull in terms of changing a blood-soaked historical narrative of exploitation.
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