Yaya

Since I have been going down memory lane the past few days, I suppose it doesn't surprise me that out of the blue today, I thought of Yaya.

Long before the yaya sisterhood movie, I met a man named Yaya while working in Abidjan (in the Ivory Coast). He was a sort of jack of all trades, but mainly he worked in art. He made art from calebash (is that the right word in English??), he collected masks and things, and he worked in a little store that sold all these art objects. He also was a musician and played the djembe. He lived in Abidjan with some relatives, I don't remember who exactly, I know his parents were dead. Perhaps, one side of the grandparents? Anyway, he was actually from a nearby country, Burkina Faso.

We met one afternoon at the French Cultural centre. I had gone there because I was told that I could access the internet there and I wanted to email my boyfriend, HC of whom I have talked about before, who was back in Montreal. However, the place where I could send email wasn't going to open for an hour, so since it was my lunch hours (we got two hours for lunch), I just grabbed something to eat and ate there in the terasse. A table or two over, was Yaya. He was intensely studying a driver's manual. At some point, he looked around, saw me, and asked to join me. We chatted and somehow he ended up giving me a phone number and we talked about going to listen to music some night.

With time, Yaya became a very good friend. One of my roommates, Lindsay, and I would frequently meet with Yaya to listen to some music or just to hang out. Some of my best and most "African" of my memories of Africa, include times with Yaya.

Well, I won't bore you with the long drawn out personal struggle I felt between HC and Yaya, but suffice it to say, HC and I ended up breaking up about 3 months after I returned from Africa and I think it was in large part due to Yaya.

In any case, for a couple years, Yaya and I exchanged letters, sometimes even phone calls. But, as many (if not most) of my friendships have done, we drifted apart over the years. I have tried to write him about once a year or so in the past couple of years, but have not received a response.

Today, for no apparent reason, I thought, let me google Yaya. Lo and behold, I found a website where he left a comment. I am absolutely certain it is him as it mentions his full name, his birth city, and that he is an artist. He is living in Holland, I guess. Unfortunately, he did not leave an email address on the website, so I was inspired and wrote a letter this afternoon, once again writing to his family back in Burkina...craziness I suppose, but at least I tried.