Cinema can not always be about entertainment. Instead, it must sometimes show us uncomfortable truths and even take audiences inside harrowing experiences. Directors Néstor López and Carlos Valles’ Seeds from Kivu is one such film, and in so doing gives a voice to the horrific ordeals Congolese women are experiencing.

In the short documentary, women that have been gang-raped by Congolese militants, seek help from Panzi Hospital, which is run by the Nobel Peace Laureate Denis Mukwege. Set up in 1999 to fight against maternal mortality, the Hospital’s first patient was a victim of rape. Describing the violence he witnessed, Mukwege says, “Her genital apparatus was torn apart”, and they didn’t know if they’d be able to save the woman. It’s not only in the description of such horror that Mukwege hits a nerve, but when he talks about the Congolese Republic has a paradise and beauty lost in a quarter of a century of ongoing war.

Seeds from Kivu is considerate filmmaking. López and Valles allow the audience to sit with the film in moments, digesting the experiences that are openly shared by the women. But more than that, it allows our humanity to recoil at man’s propensity for violence – here, the weaponisation of rape. One of the aspects that makes Seeds from Kivu an arresting experience, is the juxtaposition of the women talking directly to the camera, and then, in other moments, the camera observes their conversations with others. The film both shows and speaks directly to its audience.

There’s ample testimony about the sexual violence and how militants will invade people’s homes, raping women in front of their families, even with children watching. In other moments, women discuss amongst themselves, as the film becomes more observational. However, a confrontational moment comes when Mukwege, looking into the camera talks about how the minerals in the phones we all own are exploited in a way that leads to rape and massacre. Seeds from Kiwu is not a film that allows its audience to sit comfortably and sympathise with these women. It challenges the global audience to realise their relationship as consumers to the barbaric violence.

One of the striking aspects of López and Valles’ film is that while it confronts a sensitive and painful reality, the directors create a journey that begins with despair but finds hope. And if not hope, then it acknowledges the resiliency of these women, which is surely essentially a guise of hope. The strength of the film is that it doesn’t pity these women. Neither López or Valles see them as defined by their ordeals. Instead, it’s about how they respond, and while the violence perpetrated against them can never be excused, Seeds from Kiwu’s meticulous construction over its 29 minutes, is in some cases about empowerment in response to cruelty.

It’s easy to discuss the short documentary in the context of the present-day, given the humanitarian crisis and war crimes being committed without discretion. Seeds from Kiwu, however, is a confrontation with the past as much as it speaks to the present-day, and is also part of an ongoing tussle with colonialist history.

Seeds from Kivu won Best Documentary Short Film Goya Award in 2025.