Yaounde  welcomed me with open arms. I walked the streets of its old town, the slums, the markets, documenting everyday life, the colors, the energy of the two and a half million inhabitants that keep the city alive day and night. I don't speak French. I understand it well enough to get by but this was never a problem. When people really want to communicate they find ways to be understood. In Mokolo,an old quarter of Yaounde, people took to calling me "Le Blanc", Whitey, where I found myself drinking Matango and eating chicken with spiced banana. After three weeks spent in Yaounde, I came home bringing the memories, the colors, of Africa. The warmth of the people, the childrens' eyes. The rich taste of couscous when you arrive home ravished. The fresh morning air, and the red color of the roads that have stained forever my shoes and my heart.  

© Fabrizio Alessi