A Courier Who’s Always on Time Becomes a New York City Legend

BY JULIA MUNSLOW

Mamadou’s myth grows with each delivery; ‘I waited by the window’ for him

Whispers of a seemingly superhuman delivery courier began spreading this summer.

People said he is the hardest- working man in New York City. That he delivers your food faster than anyone else. That his orders always arrive at the exact requested location before he disappears into the wind, leaving behind only a bag of piping hot food.

They claim that he is everywhere and nowhere at once. He is the man who, alone, shoulders the burden of keeping the city running. And he doesn’t just deliver food, he delivers babies, too.

His name is Mamadou. Dozens of New Yorkers have posted videos and screenshots boasting that Mamadou has delivered their food and wondering how one man manages to do it all. They express their love and appreciation, sometimes with songs.

“He is the hero of our town,” said Jake Schroeder, a 23-year-old Brooklynite. “It’s giving the Michael Phelps of food delivery. He is what Kelly Clarkson was to American Idol.” “I waited by the window [for him],” said Clare Thomas Allen, a 28year-old who lives in Manhattan’s Upper West Side.

“He should be the president,” said Ben Weiss, a 24year-old in the Flatiron district.

There’s just one problem:

Mamadou may not exist…at least not as one man.

The first mentions of Mamadou emerged in early 2025, when Derrick Yen, a 24year-old manager at a tech company, noticed a strange trend in his food orders.

“Is there a reason every food delivery driver in NYC is named Mamadou? Either that or my boy putting in overtime,” Yen joked in a post on X.

As the summer unfolded, the myth of Mamadou grew. More New Yorkers began posting videos or photos celebrating Mamadou. Google Trends show that searches for Mamadou in New York peaked in August.

Schroeder, a comedian, felt so inspired he penned a song. “Mamadou, how do you do every delivery in lightning speed? Mamadou, who are you? And is your name Lightning McQueen? The toast of New York City, the tea of delivery,” he crooned.

Schroeder once tried to express his appreciation in person, though he thinks it got lost in translation.

“I had ordered Thai food and a man named Mamadou delivered it to me and I was like, ‘ Thank you so much. I wrote a song about you,’” Schroeder said. “He did not want to engage, he was like, ‘What? Have a nice day.’” Mamadou is a common name in West Africa. It’s a variation of Muhammad, and many men are named Mamadou in reference to the Islamic prophet—including multiple delivery couriers in New York.

Most New Yorkers are in on the joke. They know there isn’t just one Mamadou, but revel in building up a largerthan- life internet legend who has created a sense of camaraderie and community.

The Wall Street Journal spoke with several couriers named Mamadou in New York who said they’re both delighted and perplexed by their sudden rise to celebrity.

Mamadou Diallo, 32, recalled one excited customer stopping him and asking if he was the “famous delivery Mamadou.”

Diallo, who is a doctor in his home country of Guinea and delivers part-time while he studies to practice medicine in the U.S., said he and other couriers named Mamadou laugh about it. “Mamadou has become a star, he’s a famous person,” they say in French.

Multiple Mamadous who spoke with The Journal said customers have gotten more generous since their name took off. One said he received an $86 tip.

“All the Mamadous I know are hardworking, and they work honestly,” said Mamadou Sy, a 32-year-old courier in New York. “If I want to do something, I do it with my heart.”

But the sudden fame comes with a price. Mamadous say they’ve been the targets of excitable amateur paparazzi and overeager customers. “People sometimes, they take pictures of me, this is Mamadou,” said Sy. He doesn’t mind, but knows others who don’t like it.

If Mamadou is a superhero, one of his superpowers is that he can turn a bad day around.

“As one does, I was having a crash out over nothing,” said Allen, the Upper West Sider. “I decided I really wanted cheesecake and it wasn’t even worth the walk to the bodega. So I ordered it and his name popped up and I was like, this is the best!

“I literally felt like a kid when you have the Santa tracker on your phone and you’re looking for Santa,” said Allen, a social-media manager. “I was sitting at my window waiting for this man to pull up on his bike.”

It’s a tough gig, one that requires long hours and physical stamina. Some Mamadous are glad to feel appreciated.

People say, “thank you for working in the rain, in the snow, in the sun to deliver our food,” Mamadou Sylla, 21, said in French.

Yen, who helped launch the Mamadou legend, is a former DoorDash delivery driver. He understands the grit it can take—and hopes the buzz boosts broader appreciation. “I always want to support people like Mamadou,” he said, “whether 100 people or one person.”