Anzor Alem Shares Why He Stayed Silent For More Than A Year After Surviving The Goma Conflict

My name is Anzor Alem. I am a Congolese actor, musician and storyteller. Throughout my career, I have always believed that art has the power to preserve memories, give hope and bring people together. But there is one story I could not tell until now.

In January 2025, I travelled to Goma for professional commitments and to spend time with relatives who had already been displaced by insecurity elsewhere in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. None of us imagined that the situation would deteriorate so quickly.

Within days, fighting intensified around the city. Roads became dangerous, uncertainty replaced normal life, and thousands of families were forced to flee. Like many civilians, I suddenly found myself trapped in circumstances completely beyond my control. For a long time, I remained silent.

It was not because I had forgotten what happened. It was because I was still trying to understand it myself. Some experiences stay with you long after the sounds of conflict disappear. The fear, the uncertainty and the faces of the people you meet never truly leave your mind.

During those difficult days, I joined local volunteers distributing food, clothing and other basic supplies to families living in displacement sites. I met mothers who had lost everything except the determination to protect their children. I met fathers searching for relatives they had become separated from. Above all, I met children whose lives had already been shaped by conflict before they had the chance to experience a normal childhood.

One young boy quietly told me that his greatest wish was simply for the war to end. Another child spoke about missing school more than anything else. Those conversations changed me forever.

Children should be talking about football, music, school or their dreams for the future. Instead, many were speaking about survival.

That is when I began to understand that what I was witnessing was much bigger than my own experience.

The humanitarian crisis in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo has displaced millions of people and placed enormous pressure on communities already facing poverty, insecurity and limited access to healthcare. For many families, conflict is no longer a temporary emergency but a daily reality.

As I reflected on everything I had experienced, I realised that silence could also become another form of forgetting.

I am not speaking today because I want sympathy. I am speaking because I believe the stories of ordinary people deserve to be heard beyond headlines and statistics. Behind every number is a family trying to rebuild its life. Behind every humanitarian report is a child hoping for a peaceful tomorrow.

As an actor, I spend my career telling stories created by writers and filmmakers. This time, however, I felt a responsibility to tell a true story—one that belongs not only to me, but also to the countless civilians whose voices rarely reach international audiences.

This is not simply my story of surviving Goma.

It is a reminder that conflicts do not end when the cameras leave. The emotional scars remain with families long after the headlines fade.

I still dream of the day when the children I met will speak only about school, friendship and the future instead of conflict and fear. Until that day comes, I believe their voices deserve to be remembered.

If sharing my experience helps even one more person understand the human cost of this crisis, then breaking my silence has been worthwhile.