I first met Philippe in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, in 1997, while I was studying at the university there. At the time, Philippe, dreadlocked and with a constant expression of pure content on his face, was conducting research on a book about the relations between African Americans and Africans. That expression stays with me now as I try to come to terms with the idea that he has really left us behind and moved on to another place. It was easy for me back then to mistake his contentment as a permanent condition, but I realize now that it actually reflected his satisfaction at being close to the things that he loved the most--namely his family, his intellectual pursuits, and most of all, Africa.

Philippe was one of those exceptional characters who could make you feel appreciated and special regardless of whether you had known him your whole life or just one day. He took everyone seriously and treated all with a dignity and respect that is rarely seen these days, especially from such a public figure. After leaving Dar, Philippe and I remained in steady contact and met every so often to eat a dosa in Cambridge, Massachusetts, or oxtails in Harlem, New York.

After Professor Ernest Wamba dia Wamba, Philippe's father and a prominent African intellectual, became the leader of a rebel faction in the Congolese civil war, Philippe immediately took it upon himself to become his father's representative in the United States. The change was dramatic. The dreads were chopped and the clothes became more dapper. Philippe's innate humanity, however, never wavered. Though his book, Kinship, had been published to much acclaim, and though he could easily have rested on his laurels and remained ensconced within the highbrow media and academic worlds, he took it upon himself to involve himself mentally and physically in the continuing struggle in Central Africa. Not for him the rarefied role of the intellectual. Instead, he remained an activist to the core, working tirelessly to spread his father's message in the United States, even as he helped raise monetary and other support for the struggling movement.

In 1999, Philippe became editor in chief of the fledgling Web site Africana.com. The syncretism seemed perfect. Philippe, always comfortable in his skin as both an African and American, was the ideal choice for a Web site that sought to bridge the gap between the two worlds. I remembering meeting with him that year, after returning from Nigeria and a stint with a human rights organization. Over lunch Philippe asked if I was interested in writing for Africana.com. I remember how he described his vision for the magazine. In a media market that thrives on sensationalism, Africans and African Americans remain the chief source for stories about how horrible the world can be. Philippe had a different view. He wanted to offer a more balanced perspective on the continent and the various peoples linked to it, one that would present both the pains and joys of contemporary Africa and the African American experience. He wanted to show Africa as a dynamic and vibrant space in which everyday people were striving to overcome the numerous difficulties in their path.

The last time I spoke with Philippe was this past June, via e-mail. Philippe was on the other side of the globe, working on a year-long project examining African youth and their responses to the forces of urbanization and globalization. In one of his messages he informed me that he was in Johannesburg, conducting interviews with migrants from Tanzania and other countries who had come to South Africa seeking prosperity and excitement. He was headed next to Lagos, Nigeria, and wanted to know if I could point him in the direction of anything of interest. His last e-mail to me was from that city, a place that Philippe excitedly called "the bomb." It was a comment that puzzled me, given my own difficulties there. When I had visited Lagos three years earlier, I had seen a city on the verge of chaos, torn apart by a painful transition from a debilitating dictatorship to something remotely connected to democracy. During his stay, however, Philippe had dug deeper, meeting with and interviewing many of the city's youth leaders. In his eyes, the true spirit of Lagos was epitomized by that dynamic community of young people, who had the courage to respond to the chaos with brilliant art and music. From Lagos, Philippe was scheduled to head to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, to spend time with his beautiful mother Elaine. In his brief letter I could easily detect the same contentment that I first noticed so long ago, when we first met.

In his too brief life Philippe Wamba touched many, many people with a wisdom and dignity far beyond his years. I, for one, was honored to know him and proud to consider him both a friend and a mentor. The world is a lesser place for his loss.

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Kith and kinship

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