I have seen my friends and siblings—and possibly yours

I am visiting Abidjan, the elegant capital city of Côte d’Ivoire, and I’ve been indulging in one of my most unusual pastimes: people-watching. It’s a sport my spouse and I often engage in while watching television, and it has become an inside joke between us. If you were to visit us, you might hear one of us say something like, “Come and see your first cousin Umoru,” or perhaps, “Ah, so Mary is even acting in this movie.” These comments are only understood by us because they refer to the uncanny resemblance of someone on TV to someone we know.

It’s simple and amusing: if someone looks slightly like Peter, we’d say, “See Peter’s brother,” or if the resemblance is striking, we’d outright say, “See Jane!”

I decided to turn this pastime into a full-fledged activity upon arriving in Abidjan. With time on my hands, I strolled through cul-de-sacs, admired car windows, and wandered around areas adorned with charming restaurants and alfresco dining spots. The backdrop was perfect for people-watching, and Abidjan provided no shortage of fascinating characters to observe and enjoy.

The features of most Ivorians are quintessentially Negroid, their complexions an alluring dark chocolate hue. They walk tall, exuding confidence and pride in their natural beauty and cultural identity. What stood out most was the women’s hair: rarely texturised, often natural, and always styled in a celebration of African heritage. Twists, braids, afros, and other intricate styles graced the streets, showcasing a bold and unapologetic embrace of their roots. Watching these women stride confidently, shoulders pulled back and heads held high, was a sight for sore eyes.

The streets of Abidjan are a runway of vibrant colours and striking designs. The fashion choices are unapologetically bold, reflecting a rich cultural tapestry. The men and women carry themselves with poise, making even casual walks through the streets a visual feast. Of course, as with everything, there are exceptions—one or two individuals with aquiline features or slightly awkward gaits—but they only add to the city’s diverse beauty.

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Abidjan offered me something extraordinary: the opportunity to find my friends and siblings—or at least their doubles. For instance, as I turned near Plateau, close to the Félix Houphouët-Boigny Stadium, I could have sworn I saw my cousin Ramatu. She walked past me, chatting animatedly with her friends, her laughter as guttural and familiar as ever. Her angular posture, striking dentition, and soldier-like stride were unmistakable. Ramatu seemed to have found her twin in Abidjan.

They say everyone has a lookalike somewhere on the planet, and I’m inclined to believe it. On another occasion, while visiting a couturier in Treichville, I spotted Haruna—or someone who could pass for him. The resemblance was uncanny: the same dimples, the half-looped whistle that always annoyed me, and even his warm, dimpled smile. When he started to moonwalk—a signature move I’d only seen Haruna do—I froze in disbelief. Could it really be him?

My people-watching escapades continued across Abidjan, from the bustling markets of Cocody to the lively avenues of New Plateau. I spotted familiar faces—or their doubles—in supermarkets, airports, restaurants, and street corners. Each encounter felt like a delightful surprise, as though I had stumbled upon long-lost friends in a foreign land.

At one point, while waiting at another couturier’s atelier, I was greeted with a warm smile by Monsieur Umar, a talented designer who has been crafting bespoke clothing for clients across Africa. As I sat waiting, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to my friend Queen. Her laughter, her confident gait, and even her iconic hip sway were eerily familiar. Though it wasn’t the Queen, it could have been.

“Madame Abu, vous aimez votre jupe?” Monsieur Umar asked, holding up one of my finished skirts. “Oui,” I replied, though my attention was still on the queen-like figure before me.

Abidjan has been an enchanting experience, not just for its charm, culture, and fashion but for the uncanny resemblances that made me feel connected to familiar faces far from home. It’s a city that captures the vibrancy of Africa, reminding me that no matter where we go, we might just stumble upon reflections of those we hold dear.

“Mon Dieu!” I exclaimed softly to myself, marvelling at the serendipity of it all.