On the occasion of Black History Month, and at the request of then eight-year-old Cécile Lusala Lu Mvemba, we created NOW AND THEN, HERE AND THERE for the public library in Schaarbeek. The work, developed in collaboration with Cécile, consists of three drawings and an interview that together examine and unfold traces of (post)colonial history.
Inspired by the concept of Ubuntu — a philosophical principle meaning "I am because we are", as opposed to Descartes' well-known "I think, therefore I am" — Van Bos interviewed Nzau Leni Di Kak Ayi Numbi, asking her to describe three life-changing moments that capture the strength and resilience of the Congolese community. These stories were later translated into drawings by her eight-year-old granddaughter Cécile, who has never visited her grandmother’s country of origin.
Cécile titled the drawings: "The Diploma", "The Choir", and "The Market".
As a student in Belgium, Nzau faced many challenges: finding employment and raising children in a country where racism is systemic. Her stories are filled with collective power, much like the notion of Ubuntu itself — a term from the Bantu languages of South Africa that evokes humanity, community, and hospitality.
In "The Diploma", Nzau reflects wistfully on her graduation ceremony in her native village. Dust swirls through the air as ritual dances and celebratory footwork stir it up. Even today, during intimate celebrations, members of the community scatter powder on the body of the person being honoured — a gesture that evokes the soil of the motherland.
"The Market" depicts Nzau’s shop in Brussels’ neighbourhood of Matonge. Here, empowerment is found not only in owning a business but also in being embedded within the community — in moments of laughter, gossip, and shared grief.
Finally, "The Choir" highlights the church as a space for collective healing, where singing becomes a bodily expression of strength and solidarity.
The power of this installation lies not only in Black assembly, nor merely in the unique collaboration between grandmother and granddaughter, but above all in the poetic details captured in Cécile’s childlike interpretations of her grandmother's memories. Traces of a colonial past merge with tributes to her grandmother’s rituals and with gestures towards a more inclusive, humanist outlook.
For instance, "The Diploma" is both an homage to the swirling dust and a (re)imagining of Nzau’s native village, where huts — perhaps unconsciously — evoke colonial and stereotypical representations of Africa. By contrast, in "The Choir", the male choir members (perhaps unknowingly) wear rainbow-coloured robes in a conservative Protestant (and historically colonial) setting, suggesting a future that holds space for queerness and inclusion.
Colonial traces, often hidden in plain sight, continue to shape society — consciously or unconsciously. Dust as a mental trace of Nzau’s difficult past. Huts as colonial echoes in Cécile’s imagination. Rainbow robes as hopeful signs of an inclusive future.
Cécile’s visual insights — whether intentional or not — invite us to imagine a different future.
This text originates from an ongoing discussion between Isabel Van Bos and Fabrice Lusala Mvemba, father of Cécile and son of Nzau.
Inspired by the concept of Ubuntu — a philosophical principle meaning "I am because we are", as opposed to Descartes' well-known "I think, therefore I am" — Van Bos interviewed Nzau Leni Di Kak Ayi Numbi, asking her to describe three life-changing moments that capture the strength and resilience of the Congolese community. These stories were later translated into drawings by her eight-year-old granddaughter Cécile, who has never visited her grandmother’s country of origin.
Cécile titled the drawings: "The Diploma", "The Choir", and "The Market".
As a student in Belgium, Nzau faced many challenges: finding employment and raising children in a country where racism is systemic. Her stories are filled with collective power, much like the notion of Ubuntu itself — a term from the Bantu languages of South Africa that evokes humanity, community, and hospitality.
In "The Diploma", Nzau reflects wistfully on her graduation ceremony in her native village. Dust swirls through the air as ritual dances and celebratory footwork stir it up. Even today, during intimate celebrations, members of the community scatter powder on the body of the person being honoured — a gesture that evokes the soil of the motherland.
"The Market" depicts Nzau’s shop in Brussels’ neighbourhood of Matonge. Here, empowerment is found not only in owning a business but also in being embedded within the community — in moments of laughter, gossip, and shared grief.
Finally, "The Choir" highlights the church as a space for collective healing, where singing becomes a bodily expression of strength and solidarity.
The power of this installation lies not only in Black assembly, nor merely in the unique collaboration between grandmother and granddaughter, but above all in the poetic details captured in Cécile’s childlike interpretations of her grandmother's memories. Traces of a colonial past merge with tributes to her grandmother’s rituals and with gestures towards a more inclusive, humanist outlook.
For instance, "The Diploma" is both an homage to the swirling dust and a (re)imagining of Nzau’s native village, where huts — perhaps unconsciously — evoke colonial and stereotypical representations of Africa. By contrast, in "The Choir", the male choir members (perhaps unknowingly) wear rainbow-coloured robes in a conservative Protestant (and historically colonial) setting, suggesting a future that holds space for queerness and inclusion.
Colonial traces, often hidden in plain sight, continue to shape society — consciously or unconsciously. Dust as a mental trace of Nzau’s difficult past. Huts as colonial echoes in Cécile’s imagination. Rainbow robes as hopeful signs of an inclusive future.
Cécile’s visual insights — whether intentional or not — invite us to imagine a different future.
This text originates from an ongoing discussion between Isabel Van Bos and Fabrice Lusala Mvemba, father of Cécile and son of Nzau.
