The popular beat of Congolese music crosses all divides, military as well as social, in Congolese society.

The Zimbabwean tank rolled slowly through the crowds lining the road from the airport to downtown Kinshasa. Thousands of people, young and old, had gathered and were dancing and singing. But the jubilation was not in honor of a military hero, popular politician or even head of state. It was in celebration of the homecoming of Werrason, the lead singer of Wenge Maison Mere, one of Kinshasa's most popular contemporary bands, who had been absent from the country touring Europe and North America for the last eight months. Because of the massive turnout for his welcome, the Zimbabwean tank was the only way to get him and his band members through the crowds safely.

Rival musician J B Mpiana, who split from Maison Mere years earlier, had arrived a week earlier. His arrival was celebrated with a float carrying a boat, in honor of his album Titanic, and his return was no less triumphant. In Congo, the musicians are king; they are the stuff of legend, and spark fiery debate. Their fortunes rise and fall with the appetites of the highly critical masses, their personal appearances spark wildfire trends, and their songs give life to new and innovative dances which are familiar to people of all ages, social class and ethnic or geographical background.

For decades, music has been a focal point of Congolese culture. From the Latin-influenced Congolese Rhumba of the fifties and sixties, to the contemporary Ndombolo, music has played a central role and, because of its success on the international music scene, been an important source of national pride. Congolese music's twangy guitar, the "animateurs" with names such as Bill Clinton who incite the crowd with their frenzied whistling, and the gyrating dancers which are key to every band, have become one of Congo's biggest exports.

Even today most Congolese are able to narrate the sagas of band break-ups, romantic scandals, dance trends and personalities of the past decades, as though they were a personal family history. Much more than any official or opposition politicians or head of state, Congo's musicians are its role models. As such, Congolese music and its stars are also acknowledged as important vehicles for social messages; for example when the government of the late Laurent Kabila launched a new currency, the Congolese franc, in 1998, Congo's most prominent musicians were hired to compose a tune singing the praises of the new currency.

In a country the size of western Europe, which spans the width of central Africa and shares borders with nine other countries, the universal appeal of Congolese music is not only astonishing but also a testimony to a strong sense of Congolese national pride and unity. Even today, over three years into a war which has divided the country, the top ten charts on both sides of the front-line strongly resemble one another, as the divided nation still looks to Kinshasa for its cues on dance, music and clothing trends.

Television music shows broadcast in rebel-held areas regularly include segments from popular Kinshasa programs, which are captured by satellite antenna. Such contact with the "other side", people living under rebel control say, is a psychologically important reminder that the Congo is divided in body, but not in soul. War and economic decline have taken a severe toll and times are hard, but the Congo still swings to the same intoxicating beat.