Jyi Life and soccer balls that turn Innocents into ‘Playboys’

Innocent is my Congolese rafiki (friend); he is 12, but looks about 9 or 10; his bones protrude sharply through his sister’s hand-me-down clothes, often pink and lilac. He lends a most beautiful and unique, dynamic touch to his band, Jyi Life, when he performs with two of his older brothers. Innocent’s voice is perfectly on pitch, clear and resonant- the kind of voice Catholic priests would have wanted to preserve for life! Innocent also rocks the djembe drum and often assists other groups, rappers and hip hop singers during the weekly Saturday Jam sessions at Yole Africa. His brother Eric, with the stagename Fonkodji (Funk DJ) is without a doubt, the most talented 14 year old DJ I have ever met with a natural gift for music production; he also plays the guitar, piano, sings and dances like no other. He speaks not a word of English and despises mzungu food, however, he discovered Guitar Band on my friend Christine’s Mac laptop and within minutes had not only figured out how to use it, but recorded a song with guitar, drums, piano, and harmonized a few times over. The leader of the trio is the eldest, Prince Agakhan, whose “baptism name” is Christian, but who just like Fonkodji, is only know by his alias. Prince Agakhan’s stoic and chiseled facial features belie the fact that he is a very gentle person. These three guys are great friends of mine, and Innocent and I have a special connection.
Like the time he convinced me ‘we’ needed to buy a soccer ball to play with. He led me to the exact store that had the ball of his dreams, one he had clearly been coveting for quite some time, as he had eyes for no other. He walked me up to the small store on the busy street and, eyes gleaming with excitement, pointed and stated, “That one!” That ball was a size 4, half inflated and covered in what looked to be years of dust (although you never know in Goma!). Dubious, I pointed at one of the size 5 balls, shiny white, new and taut with air, “What about this one?” I asked. He shook his head and his bright teeth shone as he insisted, “No, this is the best ball!” I gave in and reluctantly handed the shop owner $12. Innocent’s excitement was obvious. I struggled sharing that same feeling about a dusty, old ball for that price as the store employee ran next door to borrow their air pump. He handed the ball, now all hard, bouncy and clean to my friend, whose eager arms were already extended to receive it. He announced to me in English, “I am going to be the best Playboy!”
I burst out laughing and repeated after Innocent, “Playboy?” He nodded emphatically once again, smile brimming over. As we trekked back out to the street, I explained to him that the actual word in English for what he wants to become is “player.”