One year without Maman Françoise
From Brazzaville’s hills to Pointe-Noire’s seafront, parish bells will ring at 6:15 a.m. on Monday 12 January 2026. The faithful gather to mark exactly twelve months since the passing of Maman Françoise Goma née Samba, revered mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.
Her children and friends still speak of a kind smile that greeted everyone at the church door. “Time flies, but the wound is fresh,” confides her daughter Chantal Olga Boudzoumou, inviting all who knew her to a moment of shared prayer.
The commemoration, rooted in hope rather than sorrow, highlights a Congolese way of grieving together: remembering the living testimony of the departed while leaning firmly on community and liturgy.
A life rooted in service
In the 1970s, a young Françoise helped launch the Fraternity of Saint-Michael at Saint-Esprit parish, Moungali. Neighbours recall late-night rehearsals where she brewed coffee for choristers and quietly straightened the pews before dawn Mass.
During the 1980s oil boom, she moved to Pointe-Noire yet kept her missionary zeal. At Saint-Jean Bosco in Tié-Tié, she shepherded the Charismatic Renewal group, guiding youths through scripture and song at a time when social change unsettled many families.
Even retirement offered no pause. Back in Brazzaville, she became a supporting member of the Ndunzia-Mpungu parish choir and attended every vigil until illness slowed her steps. “She never sought a microphone; she just served,” notes Abbé Éric Paul Goma, one of her six children.
Keeping her song alive
Music framed her ministry. Parishioners still hum the refrain she taught—” Nzambe azala na posa ya motema”—before the Gloria. It will echo again this Monday, carried by choirs she once encouraged from the last bench.
Several members credit her with sparking their own vocations. “I first picked up the tambourine because Maman Françoise pressed it into my hands,” smiles Mireille Ntounou, now choir director at Saint-Esprit. The gesture became a tradition: newcomers receive an instrument, a hymn sheet and confidence.
For the anniversary, choirs from both archdioceses rehearsed a joint responsorial psalm. Their goal is simple: weave Pointe-Noire’s coastal rhythms with Brazzaville’s brass harmonies, reflecting the unity she championed all her life.
Monday’s thanksgiving Masses
Two identical liturgies will unfold at dawn: one at Saint-Michel de La Base, Ndunzia-Mpungu, the other at Saint-Jean Bosco, Tié-Tié. Synchronized readings allow people separated by 510 kilometres to pray in real time.
The main celebrant in Brazzaville, Father Jean-Claude Mbemba, explains the schedule: “Six-fifteen honours her habit of arriving before the first bell. The early hour tells her story better than any speech.”
After the Eucharist, the family invites worshippers to a brief sharing of bread and cassava at the parish hall, a modest gesture meant to echo her open-door hospitality. Donations will benefit choir youth workshops she once financed quietly.
Grief, faith and community
Congo’s Catholic tradition calls the first anniversary “naissance au ciel”—birth into heaven. The phrase consoles mourners, placing sorrow inside a forward-looking narrative grounded in Revelation 21:3-4, a passage Maman Françoise loved.
Psychologist Roland Loufoua sees pastoral value in such rituals: “Public remembrance permits collective healing, especially in urban quarters where rapid change may isolate families.” Shared prayers, he says, transform private pain into a communal story of resilience.
Mourning also intersects with rising living costs. By choosing dawn services and a simple collation, the family keeps expenses low, mindful of parishioners who juggle transport fares and school fees at mid-month.
Looking ahead in hope
Her grave rests at Bouka cemetery, Kintélé, under a frangipani tree planted by grandchildren during last year’s burial. They promise to return each 12 January to clear weeds and sing her favourite Magnificat.
The family is setting up a small scholarship for aspiring church musicians, ensuring that her quiet generosity outlives spoken memories. Applications open this Easter, with priority for girls from Mfilou and Tié-Tié districts.
“She believed faith moves with people,” Abbé Éric Paul concludes from his parish in France. “So wherever Congolese hearts gather—Paris, Pointe-Noire or Moungali—she is present.” The anniversary thus becomes not an ending but a gentle invitation to serve, sing and hope together.
