About five years ago, I sent my 20,000-word manuscript to my (now) agent. That same evening, she emailed me back, saying she loved it. But what struck me most was the fact that she had Googled Congolese artist M’bilia Bel (whom I mentioned in that early draft) and listened to her songs. I was elated. Not only had I secured a literary agent, but I had also introduced someone to the world of Congolese music.

Ask anyone about Congo, and they’ll likely mention one of three things: the war over minerals that has claimed millions of lives, our legendary fashion and sapeur culture, or the vibrancy of Congolese music. Even though I don’t possess a single dancing bone in my body (we listen, and we don’t judge), including Congolese music in my debut novel was my way of keeping my heritage alive. Congolese music is more than sound; it’s a force. From Abeti to Zaïko, Congolese music has shaped generations.