When Amadou Bagayoko, the beloved Malian guitarist and one half of the world-famous duo Amadou and Mariam, passed away on April 4 at age 70, it left a deep silence in African music. Thousands gathered in Bamako to say goodbye — from stars like Youssou N’Dour and Fally Ipupa to longtime friends who saw Amadou not just as a musician but as a mentor and legend. For his wife and partner, Mariam Doumbia, the loss feels endless. The two shared 44 years of music, travel, and love as the blind couple who brought African rhythms to global stages. “The sound of his guitar is always in my head,” Mariam says softly during a recent video call. “Especially at night.” Despite her grief, Mariam remains full of grace and color, dressed in white lace and gold jewelry, with her son Samou beside her. Together, they are preparing to release L’amour à la folie, the final album completed before Amadou’s death. The record, meaning “Love to Madness,” captures the tenderness and passion that defined their journey. The songs, written in both French and Bambara, celebrate love, resilience, and shared memory. One track, Welcome Home, carries a simple message of affection and gratitude, while Tanu revisits melodies from their early years at Mali’s Institute for the Young Blind. That was where Amadou and Mariam met in the 1970s — both having lost their sight as children. He was already a rising star on guitar, and she was teaching music and dance. Their connection was instant. “When Amadou arrived, we held hands,” Mariam recalls. “And that’s how we stayed.” Their early path wasn’t easy. Mali lacked recording studios, so they traveled to Côte d’Ivoire to record their first songs. With support from producer Aliyu Maïkano, their tapes sold out across West Africa, leading them to France, where they struggled at first to be recognized. But their determination never wavered. By blending Malian rhythms with rock, blues, and pop, they became global icons, performing at major festivals and collaborating with stars like Manu Chao. Their music told stories of love, hope, and daily life, often sung with warmth that crossed language barriers. Together, they showed how disability could never silence creativity or joy. As Amadou once wrote, life swings “between happiness and sadness, but music keeps it moving forward.” Now, Mariam is moving forward too. She continues to perform, often joined by her son, who has taken up his father’s guitar. For him, playing Amadou’s music is both “an honor and a joy.” On stage, Mariam says she feels Amadou’s spirit most strongly — always standing to her left, guitar in hand. Though her heart aches, Mariam remains strong. “I’m a fighter,” she says. She has begun writing a new song dedicated to Amadou, though finishing it will take time. Yet she knows he would want her to keep singing, to share their love and legacy with the world. With L’amour à la folie, Mariam celebrates not only their shared career but also their unbreakable bond — one that still echoes through every note and lyric. “I’ll continue to make music,” she says with a small smile. “See you next time.”