Although I didn't know Ladji personally, I came across his gravesite and wondered who he was and if I could add any info to his gravesite. When I found this site, I read all your beautiful tributes and looked at the dozens of photos. How lucky he was to have all of you in his life and how sad it must have been to lose him. Sleep peacefully, Ladji.

Hello everyone,

On September 11th we'll have a memorial service for Ladji. Details below:

http://evite.me/nmudK396Wv

Saturday, September 11 from 2:00 PM
to 5:00 PM ET

Akwaaba Gallery
509 S. Orange Avenue
Newark, NJ 07103

I have been trying to honor Ladji's memory and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the relationship we had with each other. I met Ladji back in Middle school and at times Ladji was my best friend, my funniest friend, my teacher, my casual nemesis, and my bitter rival. In fact, he had a knack for being all those things at the same exact time but no matter where our friendship stood at any moment he was almost always there for me in some way. If something went well for me, like landing a skateboard trick, winning a wrestling match, or just not embarrassing myself in an awkward teenage social situation Ladji was always in my corner. It took a little bit of time for me to get used to someone being even more excited and emotionally invested in my success than I was but thankfully Ladji stuck with me. If Ladji asked how I was doing I knew for sure he wasn't asking just to be polite or to make pointless chit chat, he genuinely wanted to know. He was also one of the few people that I could be certain that I could turn to when things went wrong, when I failed at something or if I did inevitably embarrass myself. Ladji had an incredible ability to expose the reality of a situation, oftentimes referred to as being shockingly blunt, which was exactly what I needed at times when things seemed to be falling apart around me. Ladji rarely offered to outright solve a problem for me but just by listening and shooting the shit he offered an outside perspective without judgement, almost unconditional support and more than enough laughter to dull the pain. He made it clear that he wasn't there to fight my battles for me but he had a way of making me feel like someone was behind me, regardless of how things shook out. Ladji could roast you worse than anyone but his interest in the happiness of his friends and his love for his friends was always there and I never questioned it. I loved Ladji and I tried to make that clear to him but I am struggling with the realization that l will never be able to reciprocate all the positivity and support that he so generously gave to me. A conversation with Ladji could, and usually would, seamlessly transition from deathly serious, to deeply informative, to painfully hilarious and back again. I will always treasure the amazing conversations we had but I will miss them immensely.

Ladji always put a smile on my face. I met Ladji in high school and his ability to always keep things real was a breath of fresh air. We would hang out at Sami’s, Hartman’s or my basement and play countless hours of video games and when we weren’t doing that we were making our own movies. It was great to see Ladji doing what he loved so much so early in his life. His ability to Improv hysterical one liners was uncanny. I’ll always remember “I’m outty 5000”.

When Ladji moved to nyc he was the first friend I had who actually lived in the city. Visiting with him always felt like 2 small fish exploring a massive ocean and the adventures never ended up how I thought they would- it was some of the best times I’ve ever had.

I’ll miss you dearly ladj. My deepest condolences to his family. ♥️

I want to echo the beautiful things shared about Ladji and all the memories.

Through being Sami's younger sister I had the gift of knowing Ladji. He was an older brother figure and someone I was overjoyed to be around. His gentle and hilarious nature was beyond remarkable. As a younger sister with limited shared interests I was also on the periphery, however Ladji was a person who could always find ways to connect and share warmth. I adored him, tried to hang out with the boys when he was around and thought he was simply just so cool.

His gorgeous smile, his boisterous chuckle, his radiant intelligence, his sharp wit, and his unyielding kindness will live on in all our memories.

Parts of this world failed him, his suffering is now at an end and may he rest in everlasting peace.

Sending all the love in the universe to you Ladji and to Allima,
Ella

I have known Ladji since he was in elementary school. He was, one of my older son Sami’s very close friends. I saw Ladji fairly frequently hanging out with Sami at our house. Ladji was also one of the main characters in Sami’s close friend circle. He was a very smart kid with a very subtle sense of humor. One of my first memories of him was his invention of what is later known as “Ladjinator”.
It was wonderful to see both Sami and Ladji grew first into teenagers and then young adults as part of our Maplewood Community and continue their friendship through college and beyond. One of my fondest memories of Ladji was my car trip with him coming up to Tamworth, NH from Maplewood NJ. We talked the whole way on so many different topics, from the origins of the universe to why although NY JETS really suck every year, but he still can not help himself root for them.
I was deeply saddened by his passing. He was a wonderful person. I wanted to express my deepest condolences and love to his dear mother Alima. I know It is also a great loss for Sami and his very close group of friends. Rest in peace dearest Ladji.
Demirhan Yenigun

I met Ladji on my first day at NYU. We were living in the same dorm, a couple floors apart, and we were both studying film. I knew right away that I wanted to be his friend. His energy and personality were infectious and he just seemed cool. There's no other way to put it.

We quickly became good friends and spent a lot of time that year hanging out late into the night, getting to know NYC as 18 year old kids with fake IDs, playing FIFA together in our dorm rooms, listening to music, watching movies, going to concerts and just constantly laughing. I can clearly remember his laugh as I write this.

Our sophomore year Ladji and I moved into an apartment on Clinton Street together along with two other friends. We partied, we made weird short films, we ran around the Lower East Side. It was one of the best, most fun years of my life and I'm pretty sure it was for Ladji too.

Unfortunately we didn't live together as juniors and I went abroad for the spring semester so we didn't see much of each other that year, but we kept in touch over the next couple years and I'd try to meet up with him whenever he was coming into the city. I went to see him do standup once and I remember marveling at how comfortable he seemed onstage. Even though he had been through some ups and downs since we'd first met a few years earlier, he still had that charisma and friendly confidence about him and it really showed when he was up there.

I'm sad to say that we only saw each other a handful of times between that night and when he passed. When we met up around 2016 or so I could tell he was battling something, but I didn't totally understand what it was. I had never spent time with someone who was struggling with mental illness in that way, and looking back at everything now there were surely signs, but at the time I didn't get it, and I'm sad that I may have missed some early warning signs, and that I could've somehow helped if I'd recognized them for what they were.

We finally reconnected in 2019 and when we did it was clear that Ladji was really struggling at this point, and was trying his best to get the medical support he needed, but at the same time he was still Ladji. He could still talk about movies and music and books like almost no one I've ever met. He told me about screenplays he was working on, and new skateboard tricks he was mastering. He still had his sense of humor and his amazing laugh. It was hard to see him in that state, but it was also so much fun to hang out with him again, just like old times.

I will truly miss Ladji. He was responsible for, and alongside for, some of the most fun I've ever had in my life, and his memory will always put a smile on my face.

As Sami's younger brother of 8 years, my introduction to Ladji was as the uninvited younger brother to my brother's after-school video game sessions with his friend.

Despite only sharing brief moments in his presence and being on the periphery, I hold a tremendous deal of gratitude for the impression Ladji left on me as a child. His charming demeanor transcended any age gap, for he had the remarkable quality of making everyone in the room feel seen and valued. He never regarded me as the uninvited younger brother to the cool kids club, but rather as another person who wanted to play some Mario, joke around, and have fun.

I witnessed him go from kind and funny teenage boy to a handsome and talented young man, always through the perspective of "so excited to get to test my Smash Brothers skill with you," knowing he would likely kick my sorry butt, but without pretense or seriousness. I loved it when Ladji was over and always wanted to crash the party (for or against Sami's wishes I'm sure).

It breaks my heart to think of how he unfairly struggled through the years, his kind and empathetic spirit will always live on in my memory. To Allima, and to everyone who knew Ladji, I'm so sorry for your loss. May he rest peacefully.

Wow!!! this is so touching. I have never met Ladi, but reading all his friend's tribute says alot .... I wish him peace wherever he is, and my deepest condolences to his entire family. Good night Ladi.

Ladji was a beautiful person. I can so clearly picture the attentive and engaged look he would give you when you spoke with him. He really listened and made you feel important and cool. So funny in the most unique way. So so kind. He will be dearly missed. Rest in peace Ladji.

As the mom of Laji's good friend, David aka Hartman, i didn't get to experience the humorous side so many have mentione, but I always felt his sweetness and warmth. He was part of the crowd that hung out in our back room in middle and high school. When he first went to NYU, I'd occassionally see him and it was always a joy. It was exciting to hear about his success at stand up comedy but then his mental illness appeared. The last time I saw him though, he was able to returned to NYU. We were all hopeful things would work out, and for awhile they did.
The world has lost such a special human being.
My very deepest sympathy goes out to his mother and the rest of the family.

Ladji was always so sweet, and so funny. Warm and kind and unlike anyone else, in the best way. He went out of his way to be kind to me, and I know I’m far from the only person who feels this way. First time I met him he was performing stand-up- he was the funniest on the show (by far). After that show his act was the only thing anyone could talk about. Everyone who was lucky enough to meet Ladji knew he was one of a kind, a really great guy. He will be missed by many. Deepest condolences and prayers to his family.

I am heartbroken to hear this news. Ladji and I became friends my senior year of college, in 2016. He auditioned for the sketch comedy group I was on, and I loved him. I thought he was so funny. He didn’t make onto that group, despite me vouching for him relentlessly, but he did make the stand up comedy club that I was also a part of. We became fast friends. He was warm, kind, and smart. Whenever I threw a party, he would come to my apartment a solid two hours before any other guests did, and I loved it. We would talk about TV, movies, and books. We saw Darwin Deez in concert and sent each other his songs. We went hiking upstate and talked about comedy bang bang and did riddles. He acted in videos with me and my friends, and he would come to all my shows. We constantly talked about skateboarding, and never skateboarded— I don’t think either of us were particularly good at skateboarding. After college, we didn’t see each other quite as much, but we always stayed in touch. He would often text me purposely stupid sketch ideas to make me laugh, things like “Digi-Girl, a pokemon in girl form,” punctuating his messages with “are you in? are you listening?” We also had a tradition of meeting up every few months to catch up over burgers at Shake Shack. As vastly different as our lives became, we could always make each other laugh with an out of the blue reference to some niche TV show like “Nora From Queens.” The last thing he texted me was “Shake Shack real soon ya hear!” I am so sad I don’t get to take him up on that. I loved Ladji Haidara. Rest easy, buddy.

Ladji was one of the most outgoing, friendly, sweetest people I knew. We met in college doing stand up, and his laid back yet enthusiastic energy was an inspiration to be around. This news is deeply saddening to hear and he will be missed by so, so many. I found an old picture of him at my 21st birthday party and couldn’t help but cry thinking about how I wouldn’t get another chance to spend a night out with him, dancing and laughing. He was an essential part of New York City and he will be remembered for his positive impact on those around him. Love to Ladji and love to his family. His spirit lives on with all of us.

Such a great, supportive guy. Always had a kind thing to say. Thanks Ladji ❤️❤️❤️

I am deeply saddened to learn of the passing of Ladji. Although we lost touch after high school, he was one of the greatest friends you could have. We shared so many memories as friends in our youth, going all the way back to elementary school. He was one of the kindest and funniest people I've ever known. A friend loved by my entire family. I send my deepest condolences, thoughts, and prayers.

Rest in power, brother.

I met Ladji in 3rd grade at Seth Boyden. We'd draw together every day at lunch and talk about the Simpsons and Seinfeld. We were easy friends from then through High School. He was always ready to laugh, imagine, and be creative with others. He was always so loving.

I remember going to see him try stand up in the east village one night over winter break during college - it didn't go great. I remember not knowing what to say to kind of lift his spirits after, but he didn't really need much. He seemed so content with just the fact that he tried and went up there. It was actually really inspirational. I always admired how he put his creativity and spirit out there for the world to see and then be ready to laugh and just be cool after.

Even though we grew apart over the years, he'd always want to catch up genuinely when we ran into each other, or just reach out from time to time. I last spoke to him last summer. Just a few texts, but I remember it just meant a lot to me that he reached out.

Rest in Peace Ladji. I'll always remember how much those early days impacted me. Deepest sympathies to your family and loved ones.

Thank you Ladji for your beautiful presence in this world. I am lucky to call you a friend and appreciate the warmth and laughter you bring to life.

Love to you and your family. May your memory live on in all of us.

The best part about knowing Ladji was that he would find a way to make you smile. He had a beautiful soul, was a great listener, and genuinely one of the kindness and funniest people I've ever met. I am blessed to have had the chance to play many games of chess with you and discuss life's quirks in our adult years. RIP Ladji. May God bless you and your family during these difficult times.

Ladji and I quickly hit it off when we were assigned lockers next to each other in 6th grade.
What I loved most about him was his incredible sense of humor- arguably the best quality a person can have!- and I will always remember him for that.
Rest In Peace Ladji, we miss you!

Ladji and I started our friendship in 7th grade, making stupid jokes and getting into a little bit of trouble in Mr. Cohen's study hall. We quickly became close friends, sharing a love of the Wu-Tang Clan, Mr. Show and The Simpsons. We spent countless hours watching and listening to music and shows together. Whether in Jesse's basement, Sami's sideroom or my backroom, every weekend was filled endless witty comments and fun times with Ladji. One of my favorite things was when Ladji would run up to me in the hallway on a Monday morning and tell me he had a new song or sketch for me to check out. It wasn't just a suggestion, he would follow up daily to ensure I would share in the great new piece of comedy or music with him.

During our senior year of high school we applied to a few of the colleges, including Hofstra which we went to tour together. The second we stepped foot on the campus we knew it was not the place for either of us, so we grabbed a pamphlet and some pens, smiled politely at the tour guide and then immediately got back into the car and started driving home. On the way back I was rear-ended on I-495. Ladji immediately said, "this is what we get for going to Hofstra." Despite the pain in my back and the shock of accident we both immediately started laughing hysterically. That was Ladji. Quick with a joke, always looking for a way to make people smile.

Despite outwardly sociable and extroverted, we were both constantly trying to hide our insecurity and awkwardness, but always felt instantly more comfortable when we were at each other's side. Nothing was more reassuring than hearing Ladji yell "Hartman!" when I walked into a crowded party, I knew I had my big brother to make me confident again.

In 2016, when Ladji made his way back up to New Jersey we reconnected. He was back to his coherent, witty, affable self. Sadly it didn't last nearly long enough, but I'm blessed to have gotten another chance to reconnect with Ladji, share more laughs, and reminisce about our many adventures.

Ladj, thank you for everything. I miss you so much.

Ladji was the funniest person I have ever known and I am so sad that I’ll never get to laugh with him again. Every moment or meal with Ladji felt special, like the conversation could flow in any direction or irreverent spin. Ladji never censored his opinions or beliefs, which were imaginative and thoughtful. He was a great friend who was always supportive. Even when his life and well-being were suffering, he remained a joy to be around.

I’m deeply thankful for all the time I got to spend with Ladji as goofy kids in high school to young adults wandering the city hoping for a better future that never came to be. It is deeply tragic how much of Ladji’s potential went unrealized in life, but I am so proud to call him my friend. Ladji was one of a kind.

My deepest condolences to his family.

Ladji was a huge presence in our home - a dear friend to Sami - and to the whole gang who would hang out on our porch. Ladji was so smart, handsome, polite, funny - I was proud he was Sami's friend.  Alima, you raised a gorgeous boy and young man. Remember our high school graduation dinner in our living room? Such a happy day. Sami...the Lodjinator?? A word was coined at his clever ability to do something in Mr. Cohen's class....

I am so sad his illness was debilitating, but incredibly grateful for the time we had him. I send you my love Alima, and my deepest condolences.  May he rest in peace. xoxo Keats

When I think of Ladji what immediately comes to mind is his laugh and his smile. He was hilarious and quick witted, but his infectious and gratuitous laughter also made everyone around him feel funny and at ease. What a charming and disarming combination.

Looking back on our times together, mostly at parties in high school or in college--it's hard for me to pinpoint one particular memory or moment that could sum it up--instead, when I think of Ladji I reflexively start to smile, like I have a muscle memory associated with remembering him. I wish I could more specifically recall what made us laugh so hard and so often.

My deepest condolences to Ladji's family. May he rest peacefully and may his memory continue to bring joy to those who knew him.

I met Ladji in elementary, and am grateful we were able to stay friends in high school and into college, in fact my first trip into the East Village was with Ladji to an NYU party.

I'm glad we were able to stay in touch, recently catching up over coffee. I was sad to hear that he was suffering so much, and hope he has now found peace. My deepest condolences Allima. 

I first met Ladji in 4th grade. During one quarter, the teacher had us write down anonymously 3 people we wanted to sit with and he made table arrangements accordingly. I never told Ladji but he was in my top 3. While his deep booming laugh would come later (and still resonates with me), I distinctly recall wanting to sit with him because he was hilarious. Refreshingly, he never paired his quick wit and sarcasm with mean-heartedness that often accompanies adolescence.

Fast forward to high school, Ladji and I rekindled our friendship in the 9th grade. He was always at my house and part of our Columbia lunch crew. I remember after throwing a party, I would often find him the next morning sleeping somewhere completely random (ex: bathtub) and we would then go grab Bagel together. As a friend, he was always incredibly trustworthy and drama free.

Ladji and I lost touch over the years only to reconnect in 2019. The last time I saw Ladji was early 2020 where we shared Dim Sum. Regardless of the difficulties Ladji was facing, his sense of humor, kindness, creativity and way around a menu, still shone brightly under the veneer of illness. 

You were a real friend Ladji and will be very missed.

It’s Ladji’s mannerisms that I think of first - his body language, his infectious smile, his resonating laugh. These characteristics made Ladji a light that filled a room even before he said a single word. Not that he ever needed to. You could tell a lot about Ladji from the way he walked, how he sat back in a chair, at what point his smile broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

When I first met Ladji, he was quiet. Not the type to run across the room and engage someone new in conversation. So when he did open up to me, I felt incredibly special. We became fast friends. We would talk about music and film, about the art we hoped to make. I was honored when Ladji asked me to read his screenplay in his early days at NYU because he cared about my opinion.

When we say people are the “kindest souls we’ve ever met,” it’s often a cliche, but I truly feel that way about Ladji. I can’t think of a single moment where Ladji came off angry, upset, annoyed. He never wanted to let what was going on with him become something others had to deal with, even when he had more going on than I could ever fathom. 

I will miss Ladji dearly, but am happy to have learned from him while he was here, because I know that is what will stay with me forever.

It was a privilege to get to be Ladji’s wingman for a too-short moment in time.

Though we were friends in high school, when I think of Ladji my mind goes to early college. With him at NYU and me at Rutgers, we were only a train ride away from each other, and we took advantage of that. When I came up to see him, we’d explore the exciting, still-new city atmosphere, bounce around dorm parties, and hit the hay at hours I now shudder to think of. I loved being in his presence, getting to watch the way he made everyone (including me) laugh, and feel at ease. When I could persuade him to come down to Rutgers—I still don’t see what he thought NYC had over New Brunswick—it was inevitable that my friends would later ask me when he was coming back, as they too loved being around him. I regret that we didn’t stay close after that period, and that I wasn’t present for more of his struggles.

Safe travels, my friend. I’ll always look back on the weekends we shared together fondly. It was an honor to have gotten to say, “This is Ladji, my good friend from home.”

To Allima: I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m thinking of you and your loved ones.

Middle school was, for the most part, terrible. Awkward, shy, nervous, like many pre-teens I had very few people who I felt I could lean on for companionship.

But when I met Ladji in homeroom in 6th grade, it got a lot easier. He too was also kinda awkward, kinda shy, but really smart, sweet, hilarious...he liked video games, skateboards, watching movies...all things that we shared for years.

In class we'd compete over Mr. Cohen's word puzzles, after school we'd trade notes over which of the AFI's 100 greatest movies we'd checked off the list (he'd always seen more, and knew more about all of them than I did...the guy was a movie genius.) For years it was super easy, super fun, but also deep, and trusting, and incredibly important to me.

High school, our friendship only grew. We started goin to parties together, chilled out after school in MapleCrest park...more video games over Cluck-U delivery. We shared our ambitions with each other, pushed each other to do better, and leaned on one another during hard times. Soon Ladji wasn't just talkin about movies, he got into NYU film school. He wasn't just cracking jokes in class, he was doing standup in NYC. It was inspiring to be around him.

Ladji's descent into his illness was slow and steady, and the relationship became less easy, but no less deep, no less important to me. I could tell he was having a hard time piecing things together, staying grounded in the present. He suffered. I felt helpless, as I'm sure many of his friends did, watching him slide away from us.

The last time we hung out, it was over a big bowl of ramen in New York City. We both ordered every damn thing on the menu, we stayed for hours, we talked about video games, skateboarding, watching movies...in those moments he'd come back to the present, clear eyed, full of that sharp wit and generous spirit that had won me over when I was 12 years old.

I'm so grateful to his friends. Those who were close to him in the early years and those who stayed in touch, as well as any of them could, until he left us. I'm so deeply grateful to Allima for allowing me to be so close to her son, for inviting me to visit him in Florida during some of the worst of it, and for being a friend to me as well. I'm so sorry for your loss Allima. He's not suffering anymore.

Whenever I think about Ladji, I'll always remember that nervous smile in 6th grade homeroom, the same smile beaming at me over noodles, and all of the wisdom, humor, and kindness that was behind it.