In pictures: Confronting Belgium’s colonial past

A statue of King Leopold II looms over a walking tour about Belgium’s colonial past and the Congolese diaspora in Belgium. “There was an exhibition at the Africa Museum five or six years ago, and it was basically just apologetic about Belgium in Congo,” said tour guide Annekien Van Vaerenbergh. | All photographs by Benas Gerdziunas

Relics of the colonial era are everywhere, including the monumental Palais de Justice in Brussels. But little has been done to acknowledge the atrocities committed in Congo that made these grandiose displays of wealth possible.

Matongé, Brussels’ Congolese neighborhood, has a lively market that allegedly draws African visitors from all over Central Europe. Music spills onto the bustling streets, which are lined with hairdressing salons and restaurants serving a variety of African cuisine.

At night, the market is better known as the site of drug deals. The neighborhood is under pressure from commune officials who want to link the European Quarter, where the EU’s institutions are based, with the upscale shopping area around Avenue Louise by clearing out Matongé.

Ylhan Delvaux sits inside his old family home, which has been divided into apartments and rented out. He still lives on the top floor. “The smell is the same as it was in my childhood, I always feel like my mother is looking at me.” His Congolese-Belgian mother set herself on fire in Luxembourg in violent protest against institutionalized racism.

Womba Konga, known by his artist name Pitcho, organizes “Congolisation,” a Brussels-based festival designed to raise awareness for African artists and recognize the struggles of the country’s Congolese diaspora. “In Belgium, no one saw black people,” he said. “We can have Leopold avenues, but can’t have a [Patrice] Lumumba place,” he said, referring to the Congolese independence leader and first democratically elected prime minister, who was killed as the result of two assassination plots by the Belgian and U.S. governments in 1961. Matongé residents petitioned to name a small square tucked behind a church in their neighborhood “Place Lumumba” but were shot down by the communal council (“Futur Place Lumumba” nevertheless appears on Google Maps).

Kuumba, a Flemish-African cultural center in Matongé, teaches traditional African dances, music and languages. In this particular dance class, a group of students performs a dance routine to a rapt, predominantly Congolese audience.

The unofficial Lumumba library at the heart of Matongé is run by a charismatic and passionate activist named Philip Buyck. Alongside other campaigners and members of the Congolese diaspora, he continues to push commune officials to name a nearby square for the murdered Congolese independence leader.

BOZAR, Brussels’ Center for Fine Arts, has an office dedicated to African art. The “Africa Desk” organizes initiatives to promote and raise awareness for African and “Afropean” artists, in the words of Tony Van der Eecken, a member of BOZAR’s music department. “There’s frustration among the Congolese that they’re not accepted or seen as part of anything here. Using BOZAR to honor Congolese artists is symbolic because it’s a place for recognition — it’s near to the royal palace … it has a value in the mind of the people.”

Van der Eecken is heavily involved in promoting African artists, as well as bringing Congolese history to the forefront. He remembers the institution’s first exhibition by Congolese artists: “It was confronting, showing colonial times through Congolese eyes — and it was not that positive about the Belgians,” he said. “It was a shock exhibition, it was good.”

A school group stops by one of the many shops in Matongé. Most are now run by Asian immigrants, replacing the formerly predominantly African owners. “Every teacher realizes very well what we did there in Congo,” said Annemiet Geldof, who teaches religion at a school in Willebroek, outside of Antwerp. Very little of that history is taught in class, she said.

The number of stalls at street markets in Matongé has fallen in the past few months, according to locals. Jeroen Marckelbach, who leads the Congolese-Flemish cultural center Kuumba, said the diminishing size of the markets is due to the commune’s decision to hike up the cost of licenses. “They’re trying to push out the Congolese community, as the mayor of Ixelles said recently — ‘I will clean up Matongé,’” Marckelbach said.

Bram Borloo, a tour guide, activist and painter, leads a group of Flemish women on a tour of Matongé. “In Belgium, children in primary school learn that Leopold II was the ‘King Constructor,’ which continues to construct this false image,” he said. The tour starts among the towering spoils of the colonial era in the Quartier Royal around the royal palace and finishes in Matongé.

Stanislas Koyi — a 23-year-old Congolese expat — leads a Catholic youth prayer group. The group, made up of Congolese and Belgian members, often talks about the country’s colonial legacy. “I never want to split the Belgians’ opinion, to make them choose between the Belgians or the Congolese,” said Koyi. Vanessa Monzibila, seen on the left, is Congolese as well. “Our parents still have this fear about Belgium,” she said. “But we — the young ones — see ourselves as Belgians,” she said. “But the Belgians don’t necessarily see us as part of them.”

“I feel Belgian, I was born here,” said Maryjo Kazadi, a second-generation Congolese woman who regularly attends the same prayer session. She shares a feeling of optimism with other young, second- or third-generation Congolese people in Belgium who, she says, are eager to explore their roots.