Authors: Yasmine Rugarli, Nico de Leeuw, Bruno Villalobos
At a time when the world’s attention is drawn to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) we realise that watching isn’t enough.
We must acknowledge our collective responsibility—not just to witness, but to understand the complex, intersecting struggles of a people who have endured conflict for over 30 years. The eastern regions of the DRC have long been torn apart by armed groups vying for control over minerals, fueling a humanitarian crisis that the world continues to overlook. In Goma, tensions have reached a breaking point as the M23 rebels have taken control of the city. For many this war exists only as a distant story—flashes of breaking news, a headline, an image. But for those on the ground, it is devastation, displacement, and survival. Sitting on the border with Rwanda and the shores of Lake Kivu, Goma is a vital trading and transport hub that is within reach of mining towns supplying metals and minerals in high demand such as gold, tin and coltan.
As these socio-political tensions threaten the very survival of local communities, remarkable young creatives are using their talents to raise awareness about an urgent reality that demands our deepest attention. This article delves into the power of storytelling as activism through the journey of Mboko—a dancer, performer, and activist from Goma who has dedicated his life to awakening public consciousness. With only the tools he believed he had—his body, his defiance of the status quo, and, above all, his courage—Mboko transformed movement into resistance. His last words were, “I am alive but not in security, a bomb exploded behind my house and we just see death right now. It’s horrible.” Yet, the deeper truth is that his work, his resilience, and his message will outlive any crisis. Now, more than ever, we must honor his art and activism.
In my last conversation with Mboko, I asked him what he wanted me to highlight most. His response was simple: his art, his optimism, and his dream of raising enough funds to rent a space where young people could gather, rehearse, and grow into changemakers themselves. This article, therefore, seeks to highlight the power of storytelling and explore the complexities of the current conflict through the lens of Mboko’s art.
Who is Mboko
Mboko Lopiki, born David Lopiki Bartelemie, is a 27-year-old multidisciplinary artist from Goma, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). A dancer, performer, and director with Heartist Compagnie, he is also the founder and artistic director of Tunga Art Lab—a small hub for artistic residency, creation, production, and exchange, dedicated to exploring the impact of contemporary art in Eastern DRC.
Coming from a very humble background, Mboko told us about a childhood filled with hardship: “I was raised by my mother, who made countless sacrifices for me and my siblings (…) As a young boy, I often felt lonely, and sometimes there was nothing to put under your teeth.” His home was near a bustling bus station where vehicles arrived from the rural villages of the DRC, bringing with them the harrowing realities of conflict. “We would see men covered in blood returning home, people injured from the war, children brutalized, women violated,” he recalls. These early experiences shaped his worldview, planting the seeds for the empathetic and thought-provoking individual he was already.
Mboko often spoke about feeling “responsible,” a word that came up repeatedly in our conversations. For him, responsibility meant that he couldn’t just be an observer—he had to actively respond to the challenges around him. “I always wanted to make things move; this is my fight,” he shared, a statement that reveals much about the legacy behind his art. He also mentioned that as a child, he watched superhero films and that for him, they were a source of inspiration – they forged in him an even stronger sense of responsibility, shaping his desire to take action and make a difference.
Coming Closer to Art
Mboko’s journey into the world of art began in 2011 and more precisely in 2016 when he discovered contemporary dance. “My passion for art was born when I embraced contemporary dance, seeing people convey emotions and feelings without uttering a single word,” he recalls. Supported over the years by his friends and brother, he honed his craft, turning dance into a powerful means of expression.
As Mboko delved deeper into his craft, he felt compelled to redefine the artistic landscape of Goma as a way of bridging the gap between the socio-political challenges of this country and his community. What is clear is that his art is unapologetically free—both in expression and accessibility. Inspired by the grand choreography he admired in theatres, yet constrained by the lack of accessible venues, he decided that he could adapt and recreate these scenes in public spaces such as markets, streets and gas stations across his city where anyone would stop to watch.
Mboko’s vision expanded into a greater mission with the creation of Tunga Art Lab, a platform dedicated to nurturing emerging artists, fostering creativity, and harnessing the transformative power of art in Eastern DRC. “TUNGA is a Swahili word that means ‘Create, Produce, Innovate”. Founded with his friends, Tunga Art Lab serves as a pioneering space for exchange and creation—one that resonates locally in Goma while reaching national and international audiences.
“Placing art and humanity at the heart of knowledge, allowing each person to become aware of their uniqueness, to express themselves through art and nurture it, while also fostering the act of sharing, creating, and exchanging with trust and self-empowerment.” Tunga Art Lab challenges traditional artistic models inherited from the past; it rather offers an innovative and inclusive approach to creation, avoiding superficial gestures by staying true to its core objectives: empowering artists, fostering dialogue, and reimagining the role of art as a tool for social transformation.
Through movement and performance, Mboko’s art explores themes of war, colonialism, cultural heritage, pollution, and the devastating effects of the climate crisis. He transforms anything around him into a medium for expression, embodying and manifesting his message in ways that provoke, challenge, and inspire. One of his most striking methods is the use of discarded materials to create costumes, for instance by turning trash into his costumes. His performances are designed to disrupt, to make people stop and think. “People see me as crazy; they don’t understand,” he says. “Some have even called me mad, saying it’s black magic.”
Storytelling in Connection with the Conflict
As previously mentioned, the legacy behind Mboko’s art was not accidental, and he is aware of its significance linked to the historical background of his country. Growing up in Goma profoundly shaped his artistic approach. “My childhood in Goma, a region that has endured wars, atrocities, and violence since I was born, influenced my commitment to the fight against crimes against humanity,” he explains.
What we can surely say is that he never shied away from addressing and provoking thoughts about the ongoing crisis in the region. More importantly, what is fundamental to stress is that the current crisis in the DRC is not simply an internal problem, it is a direct result of centuries of foreign exploitation, colonial violence, and ongoing economic imperialism.
So let’s use this opportunity in this article to dissect the elements of this conflict in parallel with the narrative of the DRC’s struggles embedded in Mboko’s art.
A Mission of “Civilization” during Colonialism
The crisis in the DRC is not just a political or economic struggle—it is a continuation of a long history of colonial extraction and cultural erasure. Mboko’s dance performance, Les Dieux Ont Quitté l’Afrique (The Gods Have Left Africa), embodies this reality, confronting the enduring impact of colonization, resource exploitation, and the spiritual void left by the Western suppression of African traditions in the pursuit of wealth.
To give some context, the violence, displacement, and exploitation that define the present-day war can be traced back to 1885, when King Leopold II of Belgium claimed the Congo as his personal property, creating the Congo Free State. Under his rule, millions of Congolese were subjected to forced labour, extracting rubber and ivory for foreign industries. This system of brutal exploitation as many others were justified through colonial narratives of “civilization,” which laid the foundation for the theft of Congo’s wealth and its people’s subjugation. Even after independence in 1960, the legacy of colonial control persisted. When Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first Prime Minister, sought sovereignty over the nation’s resources, he was assassinated with the backing of Western powers, who feared losing access to Congo’s immense wealth. The installation of Mobutu Sese Seko (1965-1997) ensured that the cycle of foreign exploitation continued—this time under a dictatorship that allowed international corporations to plunder the nation’s minerals while suppressing its people.
Going back to Les Dieux Ont Quitté l’Afrique, in this piece Mboko aims to explore how colonial religions were used as tools of domination, replacing Indigenous beliefs and severing Africans from their ancestral spirituality. He highlights how African deities were stripped of their sacred roles, locked away in Western museums, and transformed into static artefacts, while their people were left in a state of cultural disinheritance. Just as Congo’s minerals, ivory, and gold were stolen, so too were its spiritual symbols and narratives—converted into commodities for European enrichment. But the theft was not only material—it was also ideological. Colonial rule not only extracted resources but also implanted deep divisions through the strategic use of tribalism and religious conflict. By dismantling Indigenous spiritual frameworks and imposing foreign belief systems, colonizers fractured the unity that once bound communities together, leaving behind a legacy of division and cultural disinheritance.
In his performance, Mboko revives ancestral spirits, reclaims stolen history, and exposes the parallels between past colonial looting and present-day resource wars. His art is a response to the same forces that have kept the DRC in a state of perpetual crisis; from the brutality of Leopold’s rubber trade, to Mobutu’s dictatorship, to the modern scramble for cobalt and coltan that fuels today’s war.
Ethnic and Resource Conflict
One of the key triggers of Congo’s modern conflicts was the 1994 Rwandan Genocide, the neighbouring country of the DRC. This genocide was rooted in deep-seated ethnic tensions between the Hutus and Tutsis, two ethnic groups primarily found in Rwanda, Burundi, and eastern DRC. Historically, the Tutsis were a cattle-herding elite, while the Hutus were primarily farmers. Though social mobility between the groups existed in earlier times, Belgian colonial rule cemented these divisions by favouring the Tutsi minority and granting them political and economic power while marginalizing the Hutu majority. This fueled resentment, leading to violent conflicts over the decades. The genocide was carried out by Hutu militias known as the Interahamwe, along with members of the Hutu-led Rwandan government. In response, Tutsi rebels overthrew the Hutu regime and took control of Rwanda. However, the aftermath of the genocide further destabilized the entire region, particularly eastern DRC.
After the genocide, millions of Hutu refugees fled into eastern DRC, where they formed militia groups and launched cross-border attacks on Rwanda. To eliminate this threat, Rwanda and Uganda invaded the DRC in 1996, sparking the First Congo War (1996-1997). While Rwanda initially justified its intervention as a security measure, it also took control of eastern Congo’s vast mineral resources. Over time, various armed groups emerged, claiming to protect Congolese Tutsis from ethnic violence while also competing for resource control. One of the most significant of these groups is the March 23 Movement (M23), formed in 2012, which continues to destabilize the region, displacing thousands and committing mass killings.
The ongoing cycle of war and displacement in North Kivu has profoundly shaped Mboko’s artistic expression. His performance, Les Morts Racontent l’Histoire (The Dead Tell the Story), is a direct artistic response to the violence and massacres in North Kivu, the very region where these conflicts have played out for decades. His work denounces the countless lives lost, the victims of these wars whose stories remain unspoken, unrecognized, and ignored by the world. More importantly, his work does what history books and news reports often fail to do: it forces us to bear witness, not just to numbers and statistics, but to the humanity of those who have been lost. Through his art, Mboko gives voice to the dead—those who have been silenced by war, whose deaths are seen as collateral damage in the global scramble for Congo’s resources.
Tragically, the dynamics that inspired Mboko’s work remain painfully relevant today. Right now, eastern DRC is once again in a state of emergency with the city of Goma under siege, as M23 rebels, backed by Rwanda, continue their violent advance. Hundreds of thousands of civilians are being displaced, forced to flee as fighting intensifies, plunging the region into yet another humanitarian catastrophe.
War, Instability and Corruption
During our many conversations, Mboko could not have predicted the current state of emergency in Goma, yet his art had long captured the underlying forces driving the country toward this crisis. His work has consistently reflected the dynamics of corruption, exploitation, and betrayal that have led to the present conflict. One of his most powerful pieces, “Les Invertébrés” (The Invertebrates), is a commentary on the corruption that has “left the country without a backbone” he stated. Through symbolic movements inspired by animals, Mboko translates this systemic failure into a visceral, performative language, exposing how political elites have surrendered national sovereignty to foreign purely economic interests.
Indeed, if we are witnessing this war today, it is because of a battle that has long been waged—not just with weapons, but with economic control. At the heart of the crisis is the fight over eastern Congo’s immense natural resources – particularly cobalt, coltan, and gold, which are essential for global industries. Here a recurring pattern emerges in our research: resource exploitation thrives in an environment of instability. The persistent state of conflict is not accidental but serves a purpose—it ensures that foreign corporations and governments can continue to extract Congo’s wealth unchallenged, while the region remains trapped in a cycle of war, displacement, and economic dependency.
Resilience, Hope, and the Next Generation
At the core of Mboko’s artistic and activist journey is a profound belief: “Je suis optimiste, qu’il y a une lueur d’espoir” (“I am optimistic; there is a glimmer of hope”). This optimism is what drives his work, even in the face of war and displacement. It is from this spirit that he created his powerful piece, “Stronger Than War”—a call for solidarity, resistance, and the unwavering strength of the human spirit. In the streets, with his body painted black, Mboko embodied resilience itself. Though we never spoke in depth about the meaning behind this piece, it speaks for itself—it is a demonstration of survival, an assertion that art, movement, and the will to stand tall is more powerful than the destruction that surrounds him. Beyond his performances, Mboko felt a deep responsibility toward the next generation. This commitment was not just theoretical—it took tangible form through his work with Sunshine Youth Care, a project he developed with his team to support displaced children in Goma.
What is possible to conclude from this collaboration with Mboko is that his art does not ask for permission; it demands to be seen, to be felt, to be understood. Storytelling is not just a methodology; it is a form of empowerment that transcends borders and strips away the filters of privilege, forcing us to confront truths that are too often ignored.