I Will Dance in Goma Again

Goma, a city nestled in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo, has long been synonymous with conflict and displacement. For decades, its people have lived under the shadow of war, their lives constantly disrupted by violence. Among them is Cruzz Taylor, a choreographer, dance artist, and human rights activist whose journey is one of resilience, hope, and the transformative power of art.

I meet Cruzz in Nairobi, shortly after his trip to Tanzania, where he has conducted dance workshops with students at Muda Africa. As we sit down for our conversation, he makes one thing clear—he will only speak about his journey. The ongoing situation in Goma is too painful and dangerous to discuss openly. His posture stiffens at the mention of home, his eyes darting away momentarily. “I can’t talk about that,” he murmurs. Yet, even as he avoids the politics of war, his story is a testament to the struggle of his people.

Kasereka Kasolene Christmas, better known by his stage name Cruzz Taylor, was born on Christmas Day and grew up in Goma, where his passion for dance emerged at the tender age of eight. “We looked up to Werrason,” he recalls, referring to the legendary Congolese musician. “But my biggest dream was to dance like Chris Brown. I watched his moves on every screen I could find.” His parents, while supportive, had one condition—he had to excel in school. Balancing academics and dance, Cruzz flourished, and his parents became his first managers, overseeing his performances in the local scene.

His childhood was filled with movement—on dusty streets, at school events, and at family gatherings where music and dance were the heartbeat of their culture. But the backdrop of his youth was also one of unrest. The booming sounds of gunfire often punctuated the music, and yet, dance became his sanctuary.

The Protest Dance

As he honed his skills, Cruzz discovered contemporary dance through YouTube. Fascinated by its expressive power, he formed a group with like-minded friends. Their performances took on a deeper meaning, evolving into a form of activism. In 2017, they organized a street dance protest against the massacres in the country. The event drew a large crowd—and the authorities’ attention. “We were arrested and spent ten days in prison,” he recounts. “That was when I truly understood the power of art. It was not just about movement; it was about speaking truth to power.”

Following his release, Cruzz’s reputation as a dancer-activist grew. In 2018, he was selected and invited to Senegal to study at the prestigious École des Sables for a three-year degree programme in contemporary and traditional African dance, a decisive step that has shaped his career. On his return, he devoted himself and his company, the Inuka Dance Company, to passing on his skills and teaching dance to children in the refugee camps around Goma. “These children have lost so much,” he says. “Teaching them to dance might seem small, but in that moment, we are giving them joy, hope, and a sense of normalcy.”

Determined to use dance as a vehicle for change, Cruzz founded the Hadisi Urban Festival in 2020—the first of its kind in Goma. “Getting authorization was a nightmare,” he admits. “And then there were logistical challenges—catering to an international audience with different cultural needs. But we pulled it off.” Now in its fourth edition, the festival brings art to the people, making theatre and dance accessible to communities that cannot afford traditional performances. “Art is therapy. We dance for peace, for hope.”

Cruzz’s journey across East Africa—Kigali, Dar es Salaam, Nairobi, and Bujumbura—reflects his search for safe shelter and hope after enduring atrocities in Goma and other towns in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Fluent in French, English, and Kiswahili, he connects effectively with diverse audiences. But his heart remains in Goma, a city currently under siege. “There is no business, banking, or government services. Life has come to a standstill,” he states, his voice heavy with emotion. His family remains trapped in the conflict zone, and every day brings fresh worry.

Artists’ Uncertainty

Artists and activists in Goma live in constant fear. To speak out is to become a target. The city’s streets, once alive with music, are now filled with the echoes of gunfire. Forced to flee, Cruzz knows firsthand the cost of raising his voice. “Everyone is scared,” he discloses. “The moment you say something about what is happening, you put yourself in danger.”

In one of his recent social media posts, he wrote:

#GOMA has just gone through the most painful and difficult week of its existence. And this does not seem to be the end.

My prayer is that the thousands of our brothers and sisters, who died under the bullets of an unjust war, may rest in peace.

Prions pour Goma et la RDC 🙏🏾🇨🇩

Another reads;

Born and raised in Goma, North Kivu, I am part of a generation that has never experienced peace.

Goma, no electricity, no internet, no water. I have not heard from my family for four days now. Four days of oppressive silence, where every minute becomes a waking nightmare. I discover what the word “trauma” really means: waiting, fear and powerlessness… 💔🥹

A strong thought to all these artists, to those who transform pain into light. We don’t know when we will still be dancing in Goma, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will be very soon. We will dance to hope, resistance and resilience. We will dance above all for these wounded souls, cut off from hope, and for these now lifeless bodies that litter the streets of Goma.

May their courage, dignity and memory remain forever engraved in us. We owe it to them to continue to believe, to create and to hope, because it is also through art that life always triumphs over fear and despair. ✊🏾

The violence has claimed the lives of many artists, including musician Delcat Idengo, who was shot in Goma while filming a music video. “Artists become targets,” Cruzz wrote in mourning. “May his soul rest in peace.”

Despite the uncertainty, one thing remains unwavering—his hope. “One day, peace will return to my country,” he asserts. “And when it does, I will dance in Goma again.”

Edited by Pius Okore.