Mottanni: The Voice of a Collective Hope Rising from Bamenda

"I want to create a world worthy of our children’s children." Mottanni

Bamenda, the heart of Cameroon’s Northwest region, has for nearly a decade lived under the shadow of conflict. Yet, amid the echoes of gunshot and silences left by absent stages, art has refused to die. Out of this crucible of pain and resilience emerges Tanni Desmond Awa, known artistically as Mottanni—a name that in his dialect means “Child of Mr. Tanni.” The Child of Mr Tanni is also a father of two, but mainly a leader that deeply believe that it’s only together that we stand. He is the winner the Cameroonian Cultural Network-CCN aryistic mobility grant that let him to Bandjoun Station to present Bruises his five tracks album about crisis. But instead of Moving alone, Mottanni decided to share the stage with other anglophone artists in order to provide them with the posdibility to reveal their talent. It’s in this context that we met him and decided to know more about him.

Born on November 9, 1991, in Bamenda, Mottanni has spent the last ten years weaving poetry and music into vessels of healing, resilience, and hope. His journey is not just personal; it is deeply tied to the identity of Abakwa, his homeland. In this conversation, he opens up about his path, his struggles, and his unyielding belief in the power of art to rebuild broken communities.

Q: How would you present yourself?
Mottanni: I am Tanni Desmond Awa, known by the artist name Mottanni, which in my “contry tok” means Child of Mr. Tanni.

Q: For how long have you been doing music?
Mottanni: It’s been 10 years now.

Q: What is the story behind your relationship with art?
Mottanni: For a long time, my life was smooth—I did well in school, had a wonderful family and friends, and knew no real setbacks. Then came my first failure: I flunked an exam that everyone else passed. It was painful, isolating, and shook my identity. But from that low point came a turning point. Poetry, motivational talks, and music became my healing balm. They reminded me that I was more than a single failure. I made a resolution: to become that same source of hope for others.

Q: Did you study art at school? If not, do you think that is a barrier?
Mottanni: My art isn’t born from a classroom. My formal education in literature ended in form three. Since then, I’ve built my craft through seminars and workshops, both online and onsite. I see this not as a barrier but as an advantage. My voice is entirely my own, shaped by real-world learning rather than convention.

Q: How has living in Bamenda shaped your artistic identity since the beginning of the crisis?
Mottanni: Absolutely. Abakwa is a place of beauty and struggle. For a decade, we’ve lived with the sounds of gunfire and cries. My poetry could not look away. It has become a vessel for our collective pain and a testament to our resilience.

Q: Do you feel your music carries the spirit of your community?
Mottanni: Yes. Despite everything, Abakwa never gives up. That strength lives in my poetry. I don’t just highlight our pain—I always add a note of hope, a call to unity, a vision for a better future.

Q: In difficult times, what role does music play for you personally?
Mottanni: My poetry is my anchor and my fuel. It grounds me in who I am and why I began. In my weakest moments, it reminds me why quitting is not an option.

Q: What does it mean to create and perform in the middle of conflict?
Mottanni: It is hard not to be swallowed by the pain around me. Speaking the truth can make you a target. But I hold on to one truth: quitters never win. My poetry has no side but the truth, and in a war, that is the most dangerous side to be on.

Q: What challenges do you face as an artist in Bamenda?
Mottanni: Power cuts, poor internet, the absence of stages, and limited funding. But we’ve learned to create our own platforms and keep our stories alive. The struggle is real, but it has taught us to create our own light.

Q: Has the war changed the stories you tell?
Mottanni: Definitely. I’ve learned to use metaphor and nuance to stay safe while still delivering powerful messages. My art is sharper now, more tactical.

Q: Where do you find hope?
Mottanni: In poetry, music, and sports.

Q: Do you believe art can help heal your community?
Mottanni: Without a doubt. Art planted the seeds of this chaos, and only art can undo it. By filling our works with peace, justice, and hope, we can reshape the mindset of our people.

Q: A word about your experience at Bandjoun Station.
Mottanni: It was absolutely beautiful and unforgettable. The harmony of the place and the hospitality of the people gave me a treasure I will always carry. I know I’ll always return.

Q: What keeps you going despite the war?
Mottanni: My conviction that better days are coming. I want to create a world worthy of our children’s children.

Q: How do you want to be remembered in this period of history?
Mottanni: As a healer, whose words soothed pain.
As an empowerer, who helped people believe in their own strength.
As a builder, who laid the foundation of hope for a just and peaceful future.

Mottanni and his group captivated the audience, turning a simple show into an artistic evening that convinced both the public and the management of Bandjoun Station. Following this performance, Barthélémy Toguo, artist and promoter of Bandjoun Station, announced a creative grant for them in November. Proof that giving often opens the door to receiving.

Preston Kambou

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