Another afternoon at playing cards. Just like all the others. Them playing and me getting bored after a while. So I decide I might as well pop by the local cyber café.
Now that means walking for about 10 minutes along a quite busy street bustling with little shops, stalls with most anything – from food to fake Chinese phones –and full of life. It is late afternoon but the sun is still high. I grab my bag and hit the road. Half way trough I see this interesting man sitting at the roadside with a sewing machine in his lap and a pile of clothes next to him. So I figure this would make for a nice photo. I stop and start talking to him. Asking straight away if it would be alright to take a photo of him.
Now, Mali is a French speaking country so naturally when you talk to somebody it is in French. Which is what I did. But then sometimes you come across people who do not speak French but one of the local languages like Bambara. And his puzzling looks were telling me this might be the case with him. Which is a pity since I am still struggling with most basic words in Bambara. But then to my surprise the guy starts talking English. And he has nothing against me taking some photos of him. We start talking and share a smoke. It turns out he is from Sierra Leone which he left behind in search of a better life just after the end of the civil war. He used to be an art student back in Freetown but that was cut short by the war. I ask him for his name and he says he is Prince. Which I thought might be just a nickname as it usually is. But to my surprise he produces a passport to back it up. We share some more pleasant moments talking about life and all before we part with a promise to catch up again latter on my way back from the cyber. An hour or so latter I pass by his place but he is not there anymore. And I repeat the same route the very next day but my luck does not change. He is not there. Maybe my luck will change and I’ll find him today.
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