« You are not alone. Your diagnosis does not define you. Keep a small light on, however tiny. That light will become your strength. Cancer is taboo in Black and African communities, and yes, cancer kills, but talking about it saves lives.

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CHARLOTTE KALALAIt was a violent shock. For a few seconds, everything stopped. Then, amidst the panic, an inner calm, almost supernatural, enveloped me. I understood that I would have to fight, but that I would not be alone. I knew that God would walk beside me.

Coming from a large and very religious family, how did your family and friends react to this announcement?

For my family, it was a real earthquake. They were scared, they felt helpless. No one is ever prepared to see cancer strike someone they love. It was a very difficult time for everyone: a mix of fear, silence, incomprehension… sometimes even shame. We all had to learn to get through this ordeal together.

Perhaps shame… what does that mean?

In many Black and religious families, cancer remains a taboo subject, sometimes surrounded by shame or incomprehension. Not because the person with the illness is at fault—absolutely not—but because the disease is still very poorly understood. There's a lack of information, guidance, and even the words to talk about it. We all learn as we go along.

In my case, I grew up in a very religious family; I'm the daughter of a pastor. And at that time, we were already going through a very difficult period of mourning: my little sister had just lost her husband. So when my cancer was diagnosed, it felt like yet another ordeal, almost incomprehensible, emotionally unbearable.

It wasn't shame directed at me, but rather the burden of added pain in a context where you feel compelled to remain strong because all eyes are already on you. For many Africans, everything becomes complicated: an illness is sometimes interpreted as a spell, a curse, or even divine punishment. And it's this view that needs to be dismantled.

She was still your biggest supporter, though?

My family loves me deeply. But as I said, we were grieving: our hearts were broken. And broken hearts, even if they love each other, struggle to fully support one another. They helped me as best they could, with their strengths and limitations at the time.
It was only a few years after the cancer diagnosis that we were truly able to talk, to put words to our pain, to acknowledge it, to express it, and to embark together on a healing process. This family journey of healing was essential to my own mental recovery.

What protocols have been put in place to treat you?

I had two chemotherapy protocols, each very different. The first consisted of chemo every two weeks. The first five days were indescribably brutal: I truly felt like I was dying. Over the next five days, I gradually came back to life, and during the last five, I was almost normal, trying to enjoy it while dreading the next session. Initially, the doctors told me it was a cancer that responded well to treatment. I believed them, but it worsened and degenerated. That's when I started hearing a different vocabulary… the vocabulary of death. It was frightening. But I had one certainty, only one: if anyone could heal me, it was God. Faced with death, we can only cling to Him.

The second protocol was much harsher: four consecutive days of chemotherapy, a day off, then another day of treatment. That protocol was utter chaos. The pain was indescribable. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. My body couldn't keep up: repeated infections, fainting spells, hospitalizations… It was a battle between my body, my mind, and my faith. I drew on everything I had left to keep going. Despite the extreme difficulty, I never gave up. Then I underwent a month of radiotherapy, every day.

How long did this last?

The pain began in December 2018. I was diagnosed in February 2019, and the diagnosis was confirmed in March. I started chemotherapy immediately after the catheter was inserted. In July 2019, thanks to a true miracle, I was able to begin radiation therapy, which finished at the end of August. Afterward, I fell into a post-cancer depression. It took me a very long time to understand what I had been through and to rebuild my emotional balance.

Are you in remission today?

Yes, thank God and thanks to the hard work of the doctors. I am in remission, and I am deeply grateful.

Do you still have medical follow-up appointments? How often?

For five years, I had checkups every three months. Chemotherapy left some organs with lasting effects, so I continue to receive regular monitoring. I have pain, lifelong changes, a new way of living. But nothing compares to the joy of being alive. I am indebted.

Do you still have any fears, or is all of that behind you?

Fears sometimes return; it's human nature. But they no longer rule my life. I choose to live in gratitude rather than fear. I choose hope.

Your life has completely changed. Is that why you left France to settle in Kinshasa?

No, I haven't left everything behind. I remain very attached to France. I can't choose between France and Congo: both are part of my identity. I travel between continents, and that perfectly reflects who I am. But this ordeal has brought me back to what's essential: my roots, my mission, my truth. It taught me that I must live life to the fullest, without regrets. That I must rebuild what cancer had destroyed and, above all, discover the new "me," because illness transforms you profoundly. That's how I opened myself to a more authentic, more aligned, more courageous life.

Do you feel calmer, less stressed?

Yes, because I understood that peace doesn't come from the outside. Peace is an inner choice. I chose to live differently, to breathe differently, to no longer let stress control my life.

What message would you give to women who are currently going through the same ordeal?

I would tell them: you are not alone. Your diagnosis does not define you. Keep a small light on, however tiny. That light will become your strength. And it is for them that I createdRendezvous with life, a support platform for people affected by cancer.

In 2024, I also launched theInternational Conference on Cancer Control in AfricaTo spread a message of hope and action on a large scale. Cancer is taboo in Black and African communities. Yes, cancer kills. But talking about it saves lives. Your life doesn't end. It can be reborn in a different way. You have a date with life.

What's the next step?

Continue to live life to the fullest. Serve, inspire, support. Create spaces for healing, sharing, and hope. Use my story to transform the stories of others.
That is part of my mission today.