Farewell to DJ Arafat: Reflections on what it means to be a “Chinese”
The morning of August 12th 2019 started no differently than any other. As usual, I woke up for the second time (first time being for morning prayer), at 8:40 am and, as every smartphone-addicted millennial, checked my phone to see missed notifications on Messenger, WhatsApp and so on. In one WhatsApp group made of 11 friends from 11th grade, I saw the screenshot: “DJ Arafat is dead. The King of Couper-Décaler died, victim of a road accident yesterday night in Abidjan. ‘’ I was shocked.
The night before, I had seen that he was involved in a motorbike accident and some gruesome photos of him circulated on social media. Unclear if it was fake news involving some recycled previous accident pictures or fact, I did not think about it too much and slept. In the worst case, our DJ Arafat would likely survive this, make a Facebook Live post about it from the hospital and everything would be fine. We’d find him again on social media either mobilizing his fanbase, jokingly called “China” (due to their vast number), against one of his artistic rivals and we’d all watch along, laughing again about Ivorian people and their endless drama.
Except this morning was different. Ange Didier Houon, DJ Arafat, the top Ivory Coast singer who dominated the Ivorian music industry from 2003 to 2019 was gone at the age of 33. I could not believe it. That morning, I had to go to driving school to get a sealed envelope to send to the DMV the following day. Yes, after procrastinating for a long time, at the age of 24, 7 years after moving to the US, I finally got my driver’s license and needed to go through a few remaining steps to replace my learner’s permit with my actual driver ID.
After breakfast, my Dad told me, “Oh, you’ll drive today to get your sealed envelope”. It was 10:20 and I told him, “I can’t drive today. DJ Arafat just died.” A bit puzzled, he cheered me on and said “Oh, sorry to hear. Who was he exactly ? Is it the same DJ Arafat that I keep hearing about since 2003 ?”. “Yes,’’ I replied , “today is mourning day for the entire Ivorian youth”.
As we drove to the driving school, an unstoppable flood of childhood memories started to take over my mind as I remembered each of his songs and where I was in life at that time. His first hit, “Hommage à Jonathan” was an ode to a friend of his who died in a motorbike accident the day before he was scheduled to immigrate to London.
Coincidentally, I had a childhood friend named Jonathan and we used to play and dance to this song at the various birthdays we would go through. His birthday was on July 31st so I had freshly sent him a message wishing him a good year. Jonathan and I were close friends in childhood. Our sisters knew each other and introduced us when we were 6 or 7. Given that both our birthdays were in July, I’d invite him to mine and he’d invite me to his. We also lived in the same neighborhood in Abidjan which also made things convenient.
Back in 2003, Ivory Coast was going through a lot. The year before, on September 19th 2002, a failed coup attempt effectively divided the country in 2 in what is now known as the “First Ivory Coast Civil War”. That September 19th 2002, Emile Boga Doudou, the Minister of State for the Interior and Decentralization, was killed at night. Tanks and armed men came to his house, tore down the fence and killed all the people in his house. He was living in my street. Barely 500m from my house. We actually heard the gunshots that night and still bore some trauma.
As children, we were aware that our country was going through a lot but as long as life continued, we were far more consumed by the latest Cartoon Network shows and our birthday parties than the political woes of our country. Back to birthday parties with Jonathan, we’d rock them and show our moves to the latest songs, including “Hommage à Jonathan”.
I sent Jonathan a message “Our national Daichi (one of DJ Arafat’s nicknames) is gone. I am heartbroken.’’ He immediately replied “I am telling you bro. This is crazy. 2019 is such a weird year”. “Soo many memories. I can’t believe it.’’ We went on and on to recall all the good hits and birthday parties and also caught up on life.
Interestingly enough, on August 3rd too, I had caught up with Naomi, a friend from 3rd grade who just finished her Master in Operations Management at Singapore Management University. She was interested in the tech industry and we had spent one hour talking about her adventures in Singapore. She was also among those who organized big birthday parties in my childhood and, near 11 am, I also sent her a message “National Mourning Day”. She also shared with me how she could not eat dinner after hearing the news. I told her how I felt like doing nothing this day. I wasn’t alone. Such a heavy loss.
At around this time too, I had sent a message to Alain Patrick, my oldest childhood friend (we’ve known each other since 2000) and, coincidentally, I had also sent him a message just the Sunday before to know how he was doing. Not only were we still in touch but we even had active projects such as creating the alumni association of our high school that were going strong. He also shared his grief.
As I talked with all these childhood friends that I am miraculously still in fresh touch and collaboration with, the grief further deepened. They understood the pain and also had their fair shares of memories flowing through their minds. We were all remembering the good old times and were going through a mix of nostalgia and deep grief that had just knocked all of us. Already, as Diaspora members, listening to early 2000s music put us back in a nostalgic trance that could get a lot of us dancing and singing for hours to old songs. Most of the time, we could connect these memories to the present as many of the protagonists involved, including the singers, had all moved on in life and were still somehow part of the present. But with this loss, it really felt like the end of an era. After this loss, the stream of memories, all somehow connected through different songs and the same character, would end and we all sensed it. A history chapter was closing as we each deepened into our mid 20s and there was now no way to deny it. Life was happening. Death was happening. It will be our turn one day. And often, sooner than we expect.
Back to the driving school, it was just 11 am and I had arrived. I sat down and told the person present there that I came to get a sealed envelope.“You’ll be here for a minute. The person in charge just went to give a driving test for my son. I went back, informed my parents and they told me to wait inside. As I went inside and kept scrolling through my Facebook feed, I saw other friends’ reactions. Jonathan posted several status updates and so did many others, each sharing their disbelief, grief. By that time, many news outlets such as BBC, Le Monde were covering the event.
A comedian nicknamed “President Veskaye” shared a Facebook live video from Angré, DJ Arafat’s neighborhood. Already by that time, a huge crowd had gathered in front of his house. Given his “fame”, President Veskaye also attracted a small crowd around him and at the time, it was very confusing to tell whether he went there to mourn the loss or using the grief people were going through to attract attention. Seemingly sad and crying, he gave a good overview of the mood on the ground and people were equally confused and did not know whether to cry or celebrate. Often, a car would go by and play loud music which would get people to dance, only to fade away and have them go back to their grief.
Angré reminded me of my cousins. Malilo and Sekou. Sekou recently obtained his baccalaureate — which was still notoriously difficult as the national success rate was 45% — and I had called him to congratulate him. He was interested in studying finance. Sekou represents that generation who grew up under heavy influence of DJ Arafat. Born in 2002 and currently living in Angré, his entire life so far coincided with the growth of Arafat’s career. I remember visiting him once in 2016 and as we walked around the neighborhood, we came across Arafat driving a black BMW. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
Malilo had also recently reached out to me; she was in her second year of university and had found a summer job. Far from the fancy Silicon Valley internships, she was working at an Ice Cream shop 20 minutes from where she lived and had asked me for a $20 loan to cover the transportation for her first few days as she’d need to work for the first month before receiving a stipend.
As President Veskaye’s live broadcast continued, I sent them a message to cheer them on. “The entire neighborhood is crying” Malilo said. “He was living down the street,’’ she continued.
Talking with them reminded me specifically of our January 02nd rituals. We would usually gather at my maternal grandma’s place every year until hear death in 2010. These family gatherings — also taking place in Angré were one of the unique times in which the entire family on my mom’s side would gather. There would usually be delicious food served and the highlight of the day was the “next generation” dance contest. Most of the times the songs would involve a new December hit by DJ Arafat and people would be interested in who was mastering it best after a couple weeks. The winners of this contest could usually gain between $20 and $25. A huge sum for an Ivorian teenager and what a way to begin the year! Sekou was usually very strong and would often win by a landslide. Sometimes some adults too would participate to show they still had moves!
Back in summer 2015 after not coming back home for 2 years, I had invited several of my cousins to catch up. We had a small dance contest to remember the tradition and they were all surprised I knew the latest moves. “I thought you’d be out of touch with the latest hits being in America” Malilo said. “You’re actually better than most of us. Wow. ‘’ I smiled internally. Thanks YouTube and several embarrassing dance sessions in front of the mirror :)
While the list of memories could go on and on, the most interesting observation is that without realizing it, many friendships, family ties and life milestones were somehow connected in our minds to DJ Arafat. Over the years, people grew tired of his endless drama on social media and behavior — especially as he was felt to be slightly on the decline and new artists emerged. However, his ability to innovate and stay relevant was nonetheless impressive. 16 years at the helm of Couper-Décaler and his many awards were no small feat. He worked very hard and adapted to new trends — be they Afrobeats or trap — to remain connected with the youth. He was that character that everyone loved to hate or irrationally defend. It took us August 12th 2019 to realize how much impact he had on each of our lives and to also realize that, yes, “China” was bigger than most people realized.
