Goma, Democratic Republic of the Congo — "I wrote this text to put down on paper all the pain I can't bear."
For decades, the Democratic Republic of the Congo has endured almost continuous wars. By some estimates, they have become the deadliest since World War II, with many millions of people killed.
Capturing the weight of this in words is nearly impossible. Yet one group of artists and activists has spent years trying: Congolese slam poets, whose verses have become tools of resistance and release for a new generation of young people in the country.
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To help share their perspectives more widely, The New Humanitarian has partnered with five slammers from eastern DRC -- the region hardest hit by conflict -- who have created new poems confronting the realities of war and honouring the strength of their communities.
Their words have never been more urgent.
For the past four years, violence has escalated sharply in the east as a rebel group known as the March 23 Movement or M23 has launched one of the most destabilising insurgencies in years.
Entire cities have fallen to the rebels - which are backed extensively by troops from neighbouring Rwanda - forcing millions, including artists and slammers, to flee their homes.
Still, while many look away, poets continue to compose and perform - some in the rebel-held cities of Goma and Bukavu, the heartlands of the region's slam poetry scene; others from exile.
All share a common purpose: to use poetry to speak truth to power - and to show what it feels like to experience war and displacement in one of the world's longest-running humanitarian crises.
"What can I say to my four-year-old little sister, who saw these men put a gun to my head, because I refused to be raped? asks slammer Soleil, in her poem, which describes the abuse she faced from the M23. "What can I say to my little brother, who hid for fear of getting involved, and being turned into a soldier?"
A performance-driven form of spoken word with bite, slam poetry began to take root in eastern DRC a decade ago. Emerging from a vibrant local art and activist scene, it quickly became one of the region's key outlets for self-expression and political dissent.
Read more:
"Art remains our oxygen": DR Congo's slam poets refuse to be silenced
As rebels seize their towns, spoken-word artists battle censorship and violence.
Slammers often tackle a range of subjects, weaving reflections on everyday life and love, with searing critiques of state failure, and of the wars that have long shaped their lives.
These wars trace back to the 1990s, when perpetrators of the genocide of Tutsi in Rwanda fled into eastern DRC. Rwanda pursued them, backing destructive rebel groups - the M23 being the latest - that challenged and at times toppled Congolese authorities.
Beneath the conflicts is an even deeper history: For decades, DRC was exploited under colonial rule, and today the land supplies minerals that fuel the global economy - enriching foreign powers and corporations while offering little benefit to Congolese themselves.
That history runs through the poems you are about to hear and watch, alongside personal stories of forced displacement and of surviving abuse at the hands of the M23 and their Rwandan backers.
While the poems all portray the violence that people are forced to endure, they also celebrate Congolese resilience. "For over a century, we've been in agony," says Malaika, a poet in Bukavu, "but we are not dead. This is our greatest victory: We are not dead".
Scroll through the poems below to watch each performance, some of which are delivered anonymously for security reasons. For more context on the M23, explore our in-depth page of archival reporting.
Goma, my living dead city
By Soleil, in Goma
In this piece, Soleil, who is using a pseudonym, addresses the impact of the M23 occupation of Goma, the biggest city in eastern DRC. She describes how armed men assaulted her and her family, and references the killing of Delcat Idengo, an artist and rapper, by M23 fighters. Despite everything, Soleil offers a poignant message of hope, saying that Goma will rise again. Her poem gives voice to those suffering in silence.
Soleil is a well-known member of the slam community in Goma, having performed at major festivals inside and outside the country. Her commitment to the cause of women and her ability to articulate daily struggles have sparked profound reflection among audiences.
She said: "I wrote this text to put on paper all the pain I can't bear and all the traumas we would like to erase from our minds. I wrote it to restore hope, to cry out on behalf of my entire community, which suffers in silence. I wrote it so that even those who no longer believe in change might consider my faith in victory after a long struggle. As artists, we are looked at differently by others. We can sense that they rely heavily on us to heal their wounds through our words and to be their voice in demanding their rights. That is why I wrote this text."
Who is hope?
By Ombeni, in Goma
In this work, the Goma-based artist Ombeni, who is also using a pseudonym, celebrates Congolese resilience in the face of oppression. The poem emphasises that, even in uncertainty, everyone carries hope and light within them. "Nyiragongo isn't burning, it's glowing," he says in reference to the volcano that looms over Goma (and which we've used as the main image at the top of this story). Ombeni's poem is a reminder that Goma's artists continue to fight and that hope is a form of resistance.
A rapper, poet, and singer, Ombeni is a member of the main slammer collective in Goma, known as Goma Slam Session. He is the winner of multiple music and slam poetry awards, both within DRC and worldwide. He has participated in various social initiatives such as "Slam at School" - which brought slam to students - and is involved in humanitarian work for local NGOs supporting internally displaced people.
He said: "Between the difficulty of leaving and the challenges of staying. Between the desire to live and the obligation to adapt. Faced with an unclear present and an uncertain future. I am not here to condemn, accuse, point fingers or complain. I just want to remind us that we have always been resilient, and today more than ever, we must hope."
We are not dead
By Malaika, in Bukavu
In this work by Malaika (not her real name), survival emerges as an essential victory for Congolese communities. Even those who have died survive through the memory of those who live, she says. Malaika's message of hope and resilience is an inspiration, a call for the oppressed to keep fighting for peace and dignity.
Born in Bukavu, Malaika discovered slam in 2016 and took her first steps on stage in 2018. She is part of a women's slam collective and has toured her own solo slam show across the Great Lakes region. She is also an actor and director.
She said: "This piece is a tribute to the dead and a celebration of life. I wrote it on the road, on a bus where passengers were talking about what the war had taken from them, especially the people they had lost. This text represents all the emotions I felt at that moment. In this time of war, the poem is a way for me to honour those we have lost, but at the same time to be grateful that I am still alive. Because right now, we are all trying to survive."
My voice
By Depaul Bakulu, in Tanzania
This poem from Depaul Bakulu, an artist, slam poet, and activist from Goma who is currently exiled in Tanzania, delves into the pain of displacement and the exploitation of his country, which he calls an "open-air jewellery shop". Depaul says current efforts by the US government to forge peace between DRC and Rwanda are motivated by capitalist greed over minerals, not concern for the victims of the conflict. The slam ends with an emphatic call for real peace and justice.
Depaul has been involved in social, cultural, and environmental struggles for several years. He is the co-founder of the Goma Slam Session collective and an active member of La Lucha, an activist group, and Extinction Rebellion Goma. In April, he received a prestigious award from Harvard Law School, recognising his commitment to human rights. Exiled in the Tanzania city of Arusha, he is using poetry as a tool of resistance, remembrance, and healing.
He said: "This piece bears witness to the suffering caused by the war in eastern DRC. It evokes ruined plans, stolen dreams, loved ones buried without a funeral, and the silence that surrounds the victims. It denounces impunity, political negotiations that ignore the victims, and the pain of survivors caused by capitalism. It also speaks of the power of poetry to heal inner wounds and transform pain into resistance against hatred and violence. This poem calls for justice, memory, and dignity to heal the scars of a forgotten people."
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To believe (in) it
By Osée Elektra, in Tanzania
In this poem by Osée Elektra (real name Osée Akonkwa), writing is an act of resistance, and a way of restoring hope. He describes the thrill of live performance - when metaphors crackle on stage and guitar chords draw gasps from the audience - and calls for a world where making art is a right and self-expression is never a crime. The video was first filmed anonymously while Osée was still in Goma, but now, living in exile in Tanzania, he is glad for us to share his name.
Osée is a slam poet, rapper, and activist whose work has a unique style called "Slam Elektrik", blending local folklore with contemporary sounds. He performs on numerous regional and international stages, and also has the nickname "Soldier" reflecting his role as a voice of resistance and unity. He serves as the artistic director of JUA-ASBL, an organisation that uses art and culture to promote change in the Great Lakes.
He said: "'To Believe (in) it' is a resistance slam poem born out of the chaos currently engulfing the Kivu region (the M23's main area of operation), where writing becomes an act of survival and freedom. The piece uses poetry to heal wounds, question the future, and empower those who have been silenced. It envisions a world where art is no longer a crime, but a bridge to peace. It is a cry of hope expressed through metaphors. To believe, we write."
This article was written and the project coordinated by Sumulia, a journalist based in Goma who is working under a pseudonym because of threats against the media by the M23. Editing and direction by Philip Kleinfeld.
