30/01/2025
Testament of Peace Through Art
In 2018, I stood before the chaos of humanity, inspired to create a sculpture that spoke of the agony in the East of the Democratic Republic of Congo. It was a cry, a lament for lives uprooted, voices silenced, and hearts shattered by war. Yet even then, I knew it was neither the beginning of our suffering nor its end.
Today, I watch, heart heavy, as the flames of conflict burn brighter, engulfing lives in a darkness deeper than before.
Art is the soul’s protest against silence. It does not carry weapons but wields truth, compassion, and the hope that hearts may awaken.
My work was a plea to see—truly see—the human cost of violence, and to remind us that wars are not just about borders or power.
They are about children whose laughter is stolen, mothers who grieve for what was, and fathers who hold hope like a flickering candle in a storm.
To the world, I urge: let us not grow numb to their pain. Let our eyes open to the beauty and resilience of those who endure.
Let our voices rise in unity, saying: this must end.
To my fellow artists, let us use our hands and hearts to create more than just beauty. Let us shape awareness, empathy, and accountability. Let our art be the bridge between distant lives and indifferent hearts.
As Congolese, we are all enduring this war in a way.
Im sending strength where there seems to be none, and may the world rise for you all victims, it should have long ago.
Mercy is not a weakness; it is the courage to choose peace when war is easier.
Art cannot end war, but it can plant seeds in the soul. And when enough seeds take root, when enough hearts awaken, perhaps the world will finally realize that peace is not just possible—it is necessary.
Let us be the ones who choose mercy, the ones who remember, and the ones who demand better for the people of the DRC.
