Laurène Southe never set out to write Child of Congo, her upcoming poetry collection set for release later this February. The poems—raw, intimate, searching—found her first. Long before the collection took shape, there was a single poem, written for an art exhibition in Vienna. A Black group show, the first of its kind in the city that’s her birthplace, invited her to contribute. When asked to write about something that felt deeply personal, her mind drifted home—not to Vienna, but to Congo, the land she had never lived in but always carried within her. That poem, Child of Congo, would become the seed for an entire collection.
Laurène describes the making of Child of Congo as happening in three distinct phases. The first was instinctive—writing for the Vienna exhibition. The second was an act of isolation. A year later, she secured a residency that gave her the solitude she needed to reflect, research, and write. She immersed herself in the history of the Congo, its people, and, more intimately, her own family’s past. Her father, who moved from his village to the capital for better opportunities, and her mother, who first sought refuge in Angola before making it to Europe. Their journeys shaped her own, though she had never lived them.
By the time the third phase arrived, Laurène knew she had something, but she stepped away. Let the work breathe, she told herself. A year later, she returned to the manuscript with fresh eyes. What she saw was not just a book of poetry but a bridge—between past and present, homeland and diaspora, loss and belonging.
Born in Austria and raised across multiple European countries, Laurène was no stranger to the complexities of identity. In Switzerland, she found herself within the Gabonese community. In the UK, the Nigerians took her in. Yet, it wasn’t until she began asking questions about Congo—about the people, the land, the history—that she realized how little she knew about her own roots.
“The more I grew, the closer I felt to my African heritage,” she says. “But also, the more I realized how much I had to learn.”
Her poetry became a form of self-education, a way to bridge the gap between where she came from and where she was. As she wrote, she found herself drawn to one of the most pressing crises in her parents’ homeland—the brutal mining exploitation in Eastern Congo. Both of her parents are from that region. She knew their migration stories, but she had never fully understood what they were running from.
To Laurène, Child of Congo does not just reckon with personal identity; it interrogates collective memory. It asks what it means to belong to a place you’ve never lived in but feel in your bones. She hopes that readers will not only reflect on her own experiences but also recognize fragments of themselves within its pages.
Recently, Laurène lost her last two surviving grandparents. She never met them in person. Their relationship existed over phone calls, in a language she did not fully understand. Swahili, her grandmother’s tongue, was both familiar and foreign. Grief, in this case, was not just about losing a person. It was about losing an unspoken history.
“Grief has come across [for me] in several ways and several shapes and layers, and poetry is definitely a tool for me to express that grief,” she says.
This personal loss, coupled with the broader losses experienced by the Congolese people, runs through her collection. It is grief turned into verse, a memory preserved in rhythm and line.
Though the Democratic Republic of Congo has a rich oral storytelling tradition, modern Congolese narratives remain scarce in mainstream literature. Laurène sees Child of Congo as part of a necessary shift towards fixing that.
“There’s a gap when it comes to contemporary Congolese stories in global literature,” she says. “I wanted to contribute to changing that.”
Her literary influences range from the unconventional styles of Wanda Coleman to the quiet rebellion of Emily Dickinson. She is drawn to writers who break form, who write with urgency, and who challenge the expected. In many ways, her own work follows suit.
Beyond the Page
What does Laurène Southe hope readers take from Child of Congo? Awareness, for one. A deeper understanding of Congo’s past and present. But more than anything, she hopes it sparks conversation and inspires her readers to take action. Laurène also hopes to fill a gap in the literary world by sharing Congolese stories with modern readers.
“I want people to feel seen in these poems,” she says. “But I also want them to ask questions. To go beyond the book. To engage with the world differently.”
And this may not be the last time readers encounter Child of Congo. Laurène hints at the possibility of a second edition, one that allows the collection to evolve with her.
With Child of Congo, Laurène Southe has carved out a space for herself—and for others like her—between history and future, homeland and diaspora, loss and belonging. And in doing so, she has made poetry a home.
Child of Congo is a powerful and thought-provoking poetry collection that explores themes of identity, culture, and social justice. Through her poems, Laurène Southe, a 24-year-old writer of Congolese heritage based in Vienna, sheds light on the critical issues facing Congo and inspires readers to take action. With its release, Child of Congo is poised to make a significant impact on the literary world, and we eagerly anticipate its arrival and Laurène’s future projects.
Interview by: Bongiwe Maphosa
Edited by: Arinze “Talius” EbeleDike
Bongiwe T. Maphosa
Bongiwe Maphosa is a budding author with a passion for storytelling. With her thought-provoking narratives, she takes her readers on a literary adventure. Bongiwe's works on the human condition from a fresh perspective have earned her recognition and publications in the Avbob Poetry Anthology of 2019, The Writer's Club of South Africa 2021, and JAY Lit in 2021. She hopes to cement her place in the literary community.
