Leaving my dear country
made me sad, made me miss
all that was worth remembering
the food like foutou
the food like attieke
the food like aloko.

Leaving my African country
made me mourn, made me long for
the people like the Baoule
the people like the Senefou
the people like the Dan.

Leaving Cote d’Ivoire
made me sour, made me cry for
the places like Grand Bassam
the places like my grandfather’s village —N’Gattadolikro
the places like Abidjan.

Leaving Papa
resting in his grave
made me dispirited, made me despairing.
I miss him
Listening to Louis Armstrong,
reading the poetry of Leopold Senghor,
calling me his cherie.