HOUSE OF KONI / BOUKOMBÉ
Fiacre
A young presence inside the House of Koni.
Fiacre was still a boy when I photographed him in the tree behind the house.
At the time, I did not know why I asked him to climb there. I only remember the image: his young body held by the branches, the house behind him, the future still open.
He was alive. He was home.
Around him, the children were laughing, teasing him, calling to him, moving through the dust and shade as children do when the day still belongs to them.
He was not a memory yet.
He was a boy in the living center of his family, proud to be going to school, happy to be seen, and still held by the ordinary noise of home.
A DIFFERENT WEIGHT
Fiacre stands apart.
Not because this page must tell everything, but because some presences ask for more silence than others.
He belongs to the House of Koni, but not as a small presence among many. Through him, the family becomes less distant. Through him, the story begins to carry another weight.
The full account belongs elsewhere.
Here, he remains first as he was when I saw him: young, upright, alive, and still standing inside his own beginning.
INSIDE THE HOUSE
In a house like this, no one stands alone.
Each person carries traces of the others: the women, the children, the elders, the untold stories, the gestures repeated each day without ceremony.
Fiacre stands within that web.
He is not separate from the House of Koni. He is one of the ways the house continues: through youth, through presence, through promise, and through the silence that later gathers around a name.