I’ve heard a lot of sad news lately; of people passing away… loved ones, people I’ve known and strangers I wish I’d known.
Last month, my uncle N. passed away after several years of illness.
It was hard on my mom; he was her first cousin, but older and more like an uncle whom she adored dearly.
I didn’t know my uncle N. very well; I only met him a few times but I remember him fondly.
My uncle loved tradition; he was an oral historian who told incredible stories of ancestors I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
His narratives were always riveting with mythical elements.
I loved the stories because it was a connection to exploring my lineage.

I wore black the day after we got the news.
It’s tradition.
It was a sunny spring day, and all around me were nature’s colours; greens and pinks, and whites and blues…
But I wore black… in reverence to my uncle… because it’s tradition.

Outfit Details: Dress – Benetton | Boots – Feet First | Sunglasses – Joe Fresh

I’ve been off sick from work for the past two days.
I’ve been spending my time in bed, with a cough and general malaise.
Being sick sucks, but the good thing is; I’m all caught up on my daytime soaps.
On the extra sad news front, I think my mom told me yesterday that my cousin Sam had passed away.
I didn’t know my cousin Sam very well, but we shared a unique kinship.
I had a feeling we both felt we didn’t belong with these people who were supposed to be family.

The Saint Germain l’Auxerrois church was the church of the Louvre, back when the Louvre was a royal palace.
The ‘Hautes Herbes’ sculpture is in front of the church, and I’m drawn to it.

My friend Aisha died a month to my ninth birthday.

Aisha was my friend, neighbour and granddaughter of our landlord, Paa Amadu.
She was one of those kids who no one really paid attention to.
Her mother wasn’t in the picture and her dad was young and still in school.
Her dad’s nickname was ‘young man’, he was funny, outgoing and he was very much liked by everyone.
His daughter on the other hand was a bit like me; shy, quiet, moody and a little weird.

Sometimes she’d just follow me around and we didn’t even have to speak.
She was younger and looked small for her seven and the half years.

What I remember most about Aisha is her laughter; she had a loud shrill laugh that sounded like a cry.

Aisha was also devoted friend.

She’d be there when I got home from school and stay on most days after we’ve had dinner and watched a movie, and then my mom would make her go home.

I wasn’t always a good friend to Aisha, I was mean to her sometimes.
I’d ditch her to go play with the older kids, occasionally I’d ask her to leave me alone or intentionally pick a fight with her just so I can get in with the older kids.
My dad saw me do this once; he marched up to me and said;

“Do you know how lucky you are to have someone who adores you? Now, go upstairs and play with your friend!”

One sad day in May, Aisha suddenly fell sick, she died while being rushed to the hospital.
When I got home from school, my mom told me with succinct indifference that Aisha had died.
I could never understand to this day why she was so unaffected by it, and we’ve never spoken of her since then.
My dad was angry, he said she had died from an easily preventable disease.

He called it a senseless death!
I barely slept that night; I stayed up trying to make sense of it all.

The next day I got back from school just in time to see Aisha’s coffin procession make its way from the mosque.

It passed right in front on our house, I stood on our veranda and watched.

That same veranda we had played on many times, we used to do cartwheels on that veranda… Aisha and I.
Aisha could do twenty-one cartwheels from one end to the other, and I twenty.
In Aisha, I’ve learned not to take people for granted.

Good-by to the life I used to live,
And the world I used to know;
And kiss the hills for me, just once;
Now I am ready to go!

My work colleagues and I stood around the ‘water cooler’ (in our case an old drafting table in the hallway by the kitchen) discussing Michael Jackson’s sudden death.

Most of us remember loving his songs when we were kids; a colleague recalls his Bad album being the first ‘tape’ he ever bought with his allowance. I had the Bad album too; my brother Paul got it for me when he went away to school in California. I knew the words to all the songs.

It’s incredible how one person’s music has affected so many lives, that’s the Michael Jackson phenomenon and hopefully his legacy lives on.

People often ask me why I moved to Canada and specifically Vancouver – I have several reasons, all valid but there’s a one that’s very old and impulsive that I don’t talk about often.

When I a ten year old living in central Freetown I watched a short clip of Michael Jackson (Jackson Five) on tour in Vancouver, BC. I think that was the very first time I heard of the city. It was an old video, probably from a special on his 1984 Victory tour; it had clips from other cities as well. The clip included shots of Vancouver, it’s not anything like I remembered now but the views of the water and mountains were still pretty amazing back then.

Years later when we were presented with the opportunity to live in Canada, I chose Vancouver remembering that video, and was pleasantly pleased after a little research into the city.

By the time I got to my teens, I’d gone from living with my mom, dad and siblings to living with my dad, his new wife and a bunch of strangers. My mom and siblings had all but disappeared from my life, and these new folks were not very nice people.

Michael Jackson’s “You Are Not Alone” helped me through some very turbulent times. I used to play the song over and over again. I still get misty eyed when I hear that song sometimes. Before then, my ‘woe is me’ song used to be Madonna’s “Oh Father” but I could only play that on my Walkman.

If I were to make a compilation of the soundtrack to my life, it’ll include a Michael Jackson song.