Biography (continued)
One thing I can say about my Father was that he wanted me to follow in his footsteps as it related to business. He would talk to me about his trips to Europe or Asia. This was impossible to me. I could not even imagine that Europe and Asia were that exciting. I dreamt about it. Similarly, my Grandmother would tell us stories about Muhammad Ali, when he fought in Zaire. My Grandmother would tell us that during the fight she would sell bread on the side of the street. I used to love to hear those stories about Ali’s fight because of my own name being Aly. So, I would be so proud when my Grandmother spoke of him. It made me feel like I was something. The kids in the neighborhood were very envious of me because of my name. At this time, I wanted to be just like my Father and Muhammad Ali. I wanted to have the entire world talking about me. I wanted to help people, but I did not know how. As I said before, life with my Father was hard, but also an eye opening experience for a small boy who came from a small village. Unfortunately, a couple of years later my Father passed away at a very early age. The doctors could not explain it, but I knew why my Father died. It was not a natural death. Something was done to him because my Father was in perfect health and very strong.
Living with my Father really opened my mind about fashion and everything people were telling me about him. The man was rich and he knew how to dress and people respected him because he was a good man. He created so many opportunities for people to feed their families. I wanted to be just like my Father. I went to his stores almost every day to see him work. My favorite days were when my Father came back from a business trip from China, Thailand or Hong Kong. We had to count all the merchandise he bought and made sure everything was good. I loved it and I told myself that one day I will own stores and create jobs just like my Father did, even though I did not know how that was going to happen. Life taught me another very hard lesson for a young kid to handle, but God did not leave my side. He protected me along the way.
I remember one day I was waiting for my Father after school because he was always the one picking me up on certain days, but that day he did not show up. I was very scared and wondered why my Father wasn’t there to get me. Another man came to pick me up, so I asked him where my Father was. He told me that he did not know. I had a bad feeling. This was the same feeling I had when I received the news about my Mother.I got home and everyone was there. They were extra nice to me. They started telling me that I would be ok and that my Father was ok as well. I asked them to take me to him and was told that he was in the hospital and had suffered a heart attack. I could not believe it and I still don’t believe it to this day. A week later, they put me on a plane, from my Father’s home in Congo along with his coffin to Mali, where he was born. I was all alone and almost eleven years old and again did not speak my Father’s home language.