Poetry is a country where I could belong

“The past continuously shapes the present; time and history are not static.” In Mantova’s historic Santa Maria della Vittoria church, Congolese poet Sarah Lubala reads from her debut poetry collection A History of Disappearance, with Italian translations from writer Carmen Gallo. The word "History" (rather than "Story") is intended as a critique of colonial aphasia, society’s inability to recognise its own structural privileges. Lubala stresses the responsibility to fight reductive global media tropes of African suffering.

Congo's legacy of forced disappearances is a ‘haunting’ verging on obsession. In the poem Six Errant Thoughts On Being a Refugee, Lubala narrates her personal experience as a refugee. Themes explored in her work include home or lack of it, displacement and liminality, motherhood, and intergenerational trauma. Toni Morrison’s words are a solace: “people who die bad don't stay in the ground.”

Gallo mentions Lubala’s book cover, a photograph the author stumbled upon online. It’s a crumbling portrait of a former dictator taken by a social photographer in Congo “photography has the power to capture the past, preserving moments against death.”

The dialogue shifts to the gendered dimensions of disappearance, with high rates of femicide in South Africa and the DRC. A woman wanting or needing to disappear for her own safety is Lubala’s own personal experience but also a universal one. Born in a matriarchal family, she was taught that survival is a creative act. However, she cautions against fetishising African women's hardship.

Lubala talks about the role that poetry has had in her life. She describes poetry as “a country I could belong to." The evening concludes with a powerful rendition of The Women, a poem addressing a university femicide, drawing resonant applause from the audience. The poem’s potent message and evocative language are a fitting and memorable conclusion to an evening rich with insight and emotional depth.