In Memory of Albert Ekow Yankey

Yesterday the first person I thought of when I woke up was Uncle Albert. This afternoon President Nana Akufo Addo announced that Albert Ekow Yankey had died.

I am very saddened by the news of the death of Ambassador Albert Ekow Yankey, who served as Chief Director at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Regional Integration during my first term in office. Our nation has lost a consummate diplomat, and a devoted public servant. 1/2

— Nana Akufo-Addo (@NAkufoAddo) May 25, 2021

I saw the tweet just as I sat down to do a puzzle with Olu. I didn't know what to do but to tell him.

My uncle has died. My Uncle Albert has died, and I am going to miss him.

With those words, the tears burst forth, propelled by the deep love and warmth that I had always felt for Uncle Albert and he for me.

In 2006, when I graduated from Haverford College and moved to NY full time, my mom was visiting from Freetown. It was there I met Albert Yankey, my mom's dear friend, and colleague (she had told me a lot about him over the years). They had met after I left Addis in 1998. He had been at the Ghana High Commission and mom at the SL High Commission in Ethiopia.

We sat in our colorful Uptown apartment between Broadway and Amsterdam in Harlem with the usual NY summer soundtrack of ambulances, beats, and buzz. I was starting an internship at the NY State Department of Health. Uncle Albert was stationed at Ghana's Mission to the UN.

All my mom said to him was: "Albert, I'm leaving my daughter in your hands."

It's the kind of thing Sierra Leoneans say often, and my mom had said many times to friends and family whenever she was leaving me behind.

However, no one had ever taken those words into action the way Uncle Albert did.

He called me every single week without fail. Every other Friday after work, I would leave my office on Church St and head to midtown to meet him. From there, we would catch a movie, a show, or wander if the weather permitted it—just the two of us.

He took me to the Met for Dante's Symphonie; it was a fundraiser for Darfur. We went to the theatre and to concerts. We saw everyone from BB King to Vusi Mahlasela. We dined on the Upper Eastside, and I marveled at that world of opulence I had always felt was far beyond my reach.

Uncle Albert loved to write. And so, he indulged my poetry and encouraged me to write. He listened to me and my dreams and passions, and when I said I wanted to move back to Sierra Leone, he encouraged it (something my own father was against). Uncle Albert made me feel safe, seen, and valued.

He was three decades older, old enough to be my father, but he treated me like an equal, as a friend. Years later, I tried to have friendships with African men, believing that this was possible because well Uncle Albert.

I have learned since that Uncle Albert was a unicorn.

In March this year, I sent him an email, and it bounced (first time ever). I had meant to check to try again. It wasn't until yesterday morning that I thought to check on him again, thinking of how best to get in touch. Should I contact my girlfriend Nana at Ghana Foreign Affairs? Surely she could get Uncle Albert's contact.

Today Uncle Albert has died.

It was the kindness for me, the generosity of spirit. It was the openness and wicked but private sense of humor. Uncle Albert was one of the finest human beings I've ever had the pleasure to know.

I didn't know how else to honor him when I heard but to write.

Rest In Peace, Albert Ekow Yankey. I love you. Thank you for guiding me, for seeing me, and for holding a safe space for me. Thank you.

Ambassador Albert Ekow Yankey (1957-2021)