Travelogue: Journey to the Northern Villages of Dogon
We then left left for Dogon. The road which was a dusty construction path last year was now completed – the paved road made the trip to Bandigiara smooth and quick. Some notebooks and pens were purchased for the school in Kondou and the essential kola nuts were also purchased.
Sangha
Three hours after we started from Mopti, we arrived in the large Dogon village of Sangha. The 4WD was parked and our bags unloaded. Proceeding with some porters who carried our luggage and boxes of bottled water on their heads, we started heading down the escarpment. The view was beautiful, but you also had to be mindful of your footing, especially with the many loose rocks and narrow paths. We stopped for lunch and a break in Banani. While waiting for our meal of sauce and rice, we had a coke and then went to a few shops full of Dogon woodcarvings. For good or bad, I didn’t bring much money with me and so I didn’t buy anything. The village seemed a little too touristy to me and the prices were high. We also observed a man who, in addition to having a mental problem, also had a drinking problem. He went around asking people if they had millet beer or if some money could be given so he could purchase some. Our Dogon guide Boubacar gave him a kola nut, hoping that the nut with a caffeine buzz would appeal to him for at least a while.
Neni - Masked ceremony and funeral
Late afternoon we reached the plains entrance to the village of Neni. While waiting for the masked dance to start, we were shown some museum-quality Tellem artifacts that a Dogon man had for sale. Admiring the good condition of the pieces and small size of the wooden spoon and bowl (the Tellem were the size of pygmies), we replied that we couldn’t purchase the pieces but thanked him for showing us. A few women were preparing for a funeral as well, putting on their best dress and jewelry. At the appointed hour we began our ascent to the main part of the village. Along the way we saw a colorful blanket carefully folded up and placed on a rock. Shanti (the impulsive and inquisitive 8 year old with us) was about to touch the blanket when our guide told us that the blanket was used during the funeral process and, as a consecrated object must not be touched.
Sangha
Three hours after we started from Mopti, we arrived in the large Dogon village of Sangha. The 4WD was parked and our bags unloaded. Proceeding with some porters who carried our luggage and boxes of bottled water on their heads, we started heading down the escarpment. The view was beautiful, but you also had to be mindful of your footing, especially with the many loose rocks and narrow paths. We stopped for lunch and a break in Banani. While waiting for our meal of sauce and rice, we had a coke and then went to a few shops full of Dogon woodcarvings. For good or bad, I didn’t bring much money with me and so I didn’t buy anything. The village seemed a little too touristy to me and the prices were high. We also observed a man who, in addition to having a mental problem, also had a drinking problem. He went around asking people if they had millet beer or if some money could be given so he could purchase some. Our Dogon guide Boubacar gave him a kola nut, hoping that the nut with a caffeine buzz would appeal to him for at least a while.
Neni - Masked ceremony and funeral
Late afternoon we reached the plains entrance to the village of Neni. While waiting for the masked dance to start, we were shown some museum-quality Tellem artifacts that a Dogon man had for sale. Admiring the good condition of the pieces and small size of the wooden spoon and bowl (the Tellem were the size of pygmies), we replied that we couldn’t purchase the pieces but thanked him for showing us. A few women were preparing for a funeral as well, putting on their best dress and jewelry. At the appointed hour we began our ascent to the main part of the village. Along the way we saw a colorful blanket carefully folded up and placed on a rock. Shanti (the impulsive and inquisitive 8 year old with us) was about to touch the blanket when our guide told us that the blanket was used during the funeral process and, as a consecrated object must not be touched.
Villagers and a couple tourists began gathering around the flat spot where the masked dance was to occur, climbing on the many rocks to get a good view. Drums invited the masked dancers to come forth, moving in rhythmical patterns. Aside from some variations, we saw many of the same type of masks as we did last year in Pelou, a village in southern Dogon. Most masks were carved out of wood, with a woven cloth covering the wearer’s back of head, a fiber bikini-style top covered with conch shells and colorful (using the resin from the l’anea resin tree) grass skirts, anklets and bracelets. I identified the rabbit, antelope, kanaga, hunter, and maison mask. Each type of mask seemed to have its own particular move, with the kanaga swooping its head/mask in a circular fashion and the maison mask leaping high into the air while balancing the tall mask. Showing its strength and control, the maison mask then carefully bent its head down until the tall thin mask finally touched the ground in front of him and then repeat the process tipping the mask backwards until it touched the ground in back of him. Next a hunter mask came out with a spear, engaging in a duel with an older Dogon man wearing a Fulani hat and cane.Adague, guardian of the environment, wore a fibrous mask with what looked like several eyes. It had a leather-like shield and an axe, and also engaged in the duel.
Funeral
After the masked dance the funeral began. The funeral could be thought of more like a memorial service, in that the dead person had been buried for some time already. This was a chance for friends and family from distant villages to gather and remember the dead woman. According to our Dogon guide Boubacar, the funeral (a non-masked ceremony since it was for a woman) typically would last for five days. The mostly woman funeral procession began dancing and singing in a line in the crowded area. Drums accompanied the singing, occasionally enhanced by the sound of plastic whistles. In a small area near the drummers, a man and woman took off their sandals and began dancing as if communicating with each other. Then the woman began dancing solo and blowing a whistle, with the sleeping baby tied to her back bouncing up and down. Although I would have liked to stay longer, it was time for us to leave and set up our base in Kondou. Lit by the moonlight, the walk to the village was pleasant.
Koundou Encampment
Although the accommodations were quite simple, the hotel was packed. Tables in the sandy courtyard were filled with tourists from Germany, France, and other countries. People set up tents in the courtyard or on the flat roof of the hotel buildings. People were waiting in line to wash up in the outdoor stalls with a bucket and others wanted to use the outdoor bathroom stall consisting of a hole in the ground behind a beautiful carved wooden door. Our hotel room was simple as well, consisting of a table, two windows, a fluorescent light, and a cane bed with a thin mattress and single sheet almost covering the mattress surface, and inch-thick foam for a pillow. Looking around the room, I could find no electric outlets. I became even more grateful that I had the opportunity to recharge batteries while at Mac’s Refuge in Sevaré. Luckily many of the hotel guests that had been rather noisy during the night left the next morning. For the next two nights the hotel was much less congested.
After the masked dance the funeral began. The funeral could be thought of more like a memorial service, in that the dead person had been buried for some time already. This was a chance for friends and family from distant villages to gather and remember the dead woman. According to our Dogon guide Boubacar, the funeral (a non-masked ceremony since it was for a woman) typically would last for five days. The mostly woman funeral procession began dancing and singing in a line in the crowded area. Drums accompanied the singing, occasionally enhanced by the sound of plastic whistles. In a small area near the drummers, a man and woman took off their sandals and began dancing as if communicating with each other. Then the woman began dancing solo and blowing a whistle, with the sleeping baby tied to her back bouncing up and down. Although I would have liked to stay longer, it was time for us to leave and set up our base in Kondou. Lit by the moonlight, the walk to the village was pleasant.
Koundou Encampment
Although the accommodations were quite simple, the hotel was packed. Tables in the sandy courtyard were filled with tourists from Germany, France, and other countries. People set up tents in the courtyard or on the flat roof of the hotel buildings. People were waiting in line to wash up in the outdoor stalls with a bucket and others wanted to use the outdoor bathroom stall consisting of a hole in the ground behind a beautiful carved wooden door. Our hotel room was simple as well, consisting of a table, two windows, a fluorescent light, and a cane bed with a thin mattress and single sheet almost covering the mattress surface, and inch-thick foam for a pillow. Looking around the room, I could find no electric outlets. I became even more grateful that I had the opportunity to recharge batteries while at Mac’s Refuge in Sevaré. Luckily many of the hotel guests that had been rather noisy during the night left the next morning. For the next two nights the hotel was much less congested.
Trek to the Three Yougas
In the morning we left for the villages of Youga Nah and Youga Dogourou. I choose to ride on the cow cart, anticipating a challenging climb. A few boys joined us, indicating that they had nothing better to do. While trekking up the rocky escarpment, we encountered an older man who was blind, weaving a shallow bowl out of local grasses. After purchasing a bowl and giving the kindly man a kola nut, we continued our trek upward. Periodically we paused for a few moments for a mini-break, drinking water and capturing a panoramic view of the plains and escarpment climbed so far. Even in these steep, rocky areas one could see evidence of millet stalks and other crops carefully planted and then harvested in the tiny areas of ground. In a small opening between some stone houses was a narrow loom, with the sizeable amount of the white fabric already accumulated around a narrow bolt. In another spot in Yougou Na, we saw a fetish, which essentially looked like a tall mound of mud covered with white millet porridge.
Continuing our trek, we reached Yougou Dougourou, the village where the tradition of mask originated. Climbing up a little further, we reached the toguna where we found the hogon of the village. Small in stature, the older man with a white beard and eyebrows, simple indigo cloth shirt and cotton Dogon hat, and held a carved walking stick. He walked and spoke with a commanding presence. The hogon and another man in the toguna began drinking millet beer, a favorite to the Dogon. Boubacar gave the gentle hogon a few kola nuts, accepted a drink of the beer from the large calabash, thanked the hogon for his hospitality, and then we continued on. Nestled in between the Tellem dwellings high in the cliffs, was the place where the hogon originally lived. After spending some time marveling at the architectural wonders of both the Dogon and their Tellem predecessors, we made our way back down to the village encampment. Here we rested, had a coke, read, and had lunch before heading back to Kondou.
In the morning we left for the villages of Youga Nah and Youga Dogourou. I choose to ride on the cow cart, anticipating a challenging climb. A few boys joined us, indicating that they had nothing better to do. While trekking up the rocky escarpment, we encountered an older man who was blind, weaving a shallow bowl out of local grasses. After purchasing a bowl and giving the kindly man a kola nut, we continued our trek upward. Periodically we paused for a few moments for a mini-break, drinking water and capturing a panoramic view of the plains and escarpment climbed so far. Even in these steep, rocky areas one could see evidence of millet stalks and other crops carefully planted and then harvested in the tiny areas of ground. In a small opening between some stone houses was a narrow loom, with the sizeable amount of the white fabric already accumulated around a narrow bolt. In another spot in Yougou Na, we saw a fetish, which essentially looked like a tall mound of mud covered with white millet porridge.
Continuing our trek, we reached Yougou Dougourou, the village where the tradition of mask originated. Climbing up a little further, we reached the toguna where we found the hogon of the village. Small in stature, the older man with a white beard and eyebrows, simple indigo cloth shirt and cotton Dogon hat, and held a carved walking stick. He walked and spoke with a commanding presence. The hogon and another man in the toguna began drinking millet beer, a favorite to the Dogon. Boubacar gave the gentle hogon a few kola nuts, accepted a drink of the beer from the large calabash, thanked the hogon for his hospitality, and then we continued on. Nestled in between the Tellem dwellings high in the cliffs, was the place where the hogon originally lived. After spending some time marveling at the architectural wonders of both the Dogon and their Tellem predecessors, we made our way back down to the village encampment. Here we rested, had a coke, read, and had lunch before heading back to Kondou.
Kondou Villages Trek
Our final trekking day consisted of visiting the Kondou villages up on the escarpment and the important place called Arou. We began climbing up the rocky hill right behind the hotel, up to Kondou Ginna. Like the typical Dogon village, granaries (used for storing grain and other valuables) were made out of mud, with a thatched conical roof protecting the contents during deluges of the rainy season. To protect the precious contents from vermin such as rats, the granaries are raised from the ground with piled stones. At one granary, the beautifully carved window was opened, and the young girl who had climbed up the ladder began hauling down some of the millet to make into food. Homes were more often made out of rocks and/or mud and had a flat roof.
Continuing further up the escarpment, we came to Kondou Kekeni. Here we saw some monkey skulls imbedded into the stone surface. Mindful of the knowledgeable advice or our Dogon guide, we did not take photos or attempt to touch the important site. Like in some other villages, residents had quickly laid out some wooden carvings, eager for a sale. They even offered us some millet beer; I took a sip of the warm locally-brewed beer. Boubacar also showed us a source of drinking water, located below a large sheet of escarpment rock. In order to preserve the quality of the drinking water, those wanting to go down to the water had to take off their shoes.
Finally we reached the topmost village Kondou Da, where we would spend some time exploring and resting. Just beyond the village one could see a green valley. It was a large garden with onions, tobacco, eggplant, squash, mangoes, calabashes, lettuce, papaya, spices, potatoes, and other items. Water was carried in calabashes from a nearby pond, seemingly protected by a crocodile perched on a rock. The crocodile seemed to be enjoying itself, as if it knew that the revered nature of the crocodiles would provide safety. Beneath some jutting rocks, Boubacar pointed out some human skeletons and bones. For lunch and our daily siesta, we stayed at a nice encampment, complete with cane cots and foam pads, flowers, and beautiful carved wooden doors. To pass the time, I enjoyed looking at the wooden carvings and artifacts in the small boutique. No one complained about the higher prices for cokes in remote villages such as this, since such items had to be carried up the steep, rocky escarpment. As we left the village, we encountered a fetish on a large rock, with the fetish rock upright and smaller ones around it. The number of fetishes spotted and placement of them was intriguing.
Our final trekking day consisted of visiting the Kondou villages up on the escarpment and the important place called Arou. We began climbing up the rocky hill right behind the hotel, up to Kondou Ginna. Like the typical Dogon village, granaries (used for storing grain and other valuables) were made out of mud, with a thatched conical roof protecting the contents during deluges of the rainy season. To protect the precious contents from vermin such as rats, the granaries are raised from the ground with piled stones. At one granary, the beautifully carved window was opened, and the young girl who had climbed up the ladder began hauling down some of the millet to make into food. Homes were more often made out of rocks and/or mud and had a flat roof.
Continuing further up the escarpment, we came to Kondou Kekeni. Here we saw some monkey skulls imbedded into the stone surface. Mindful of the knowledgeable advice or our Dogon guide, we did not take photos or attempt to touch the important site. Like in some other villages, residents had quickly laid out some wooden carvings, eager for a sale. They even offered us some millet beer; I took a sip of the warm locally-brewed beer. Boubacar also showed us a source of drinking water, located below a large sheet of escarpment rock. In order to preserve the quality of the drinking water, those wanting to go down to the water had to take off their shoes.
Finally we reached the topmost village Kondou Da, where we would spend some time exploring and resting. Just beyond the village one could see a green valley. It was a large garden with onions, tobacco, eggplant, squash, mangoes, calabashes, lettuce, papaya, spices, potatoes, and other items. Water was carried in calabashes from a nearby pond, seemingly protected by a crocodile perched on a rock. The crocodile seemed to be enjoying itself, as if it knew that the revered nature of the crocodiles would provide safety. Beneath some jutting rocks, Boubacar pointed out some human skeletons and bones. For lunch and our daily siesta, we stayed at a nice encampment, complete with cane cots and foam pads, flowers, and beautiful carved wooden doors. To pass the time, I enjoyed looking at the wooden carvings and artifacts in the small boutique. No one complained about the higher prices for cokes in remote villages such as this, since such items had to be carried up the steep, rocky escarpment. As we left the village, we encountered a fetish on a large rock, with the fetish rock upright and smaller ones around it. The number of fetishes spotted and placement of them was intriguing.
Arou, Home of the Highest Hogon
Following our siesta, we continued our trek to Arou, the place where the highest Hogon resided. People represented from each village come to offer sacrifices here for rain. The high Hogon is the important decision-maker for the Dogon, and even is consulted as a representative of the Dogon in political matters of the country. After climbing even higher, we finally reached the small home where the gatekeeper of Arou lived. Prior to going up to the ginna, the elderly gatekeeper told us that his wife was suffering from an eye ailment and wondered if we had anything that might be of help. All we had for her swollen eye area (which looked like conjunctivitis or similar eye condition) was some Tylenol. After giving her some advice/instructions, we proceeded up the rocks to the hogon and temple, with the gatekeeper going before us to announce our presence to the hogon. At the foot of a large baobab tree was a circular path. Boubacar instructed us to enter in a clockwise direction. The other way was reserved for people of special status. The Hogon was sitting in the low-roofed toguna next to the ginna. He welcomed us and indicated that it was an honor to have us as guests. The high hogon was simply dressed in white with the traditional strip-sewn cloth and a small white hat. Neither his placement, voice, or dress marked any significance; neither did he exert his authority in our presence. A rooster and hen were running about. The ginna temple in Arou was the largest ginna in all Dogon. It had 9 rounded points on top of the retangular-shaped façade, with 8 ostrich eggs on top of the points (one of the points didn’t have an egg). Even though there was a door opening, it was not possible to see inside the religious building. Above the door were 8 narrow vertical openings, representing the 8 ancestors. The hogon was presented with some money for photography, a small handful of kola nuts, and a reply of thankfulness. At that time we headed down towards the plains, taking the longer but less strenuous route near the village of Ibi. On the sandy road we saw a chameleon making its way to some dry grass. According to Boubacar, sighting of a chameleon is a sign of good luck. Grubby with sweat and dust, we all eagerly took a bucket bath that night before our meal.
Tellem and Dogon Artifacts for Sale
With the Director’s large female wooden sculpture carefully placed in the 4WD’s luggage rack and our luggage in the back of the vehicle, we began our journey out of Dogon. Honoring our promise to the man we saw at Neni with the Tellem artifacts, we went to a small village near Neni and Ibi and went into his boutique. In these two rooms lit only by a few small windows, were Tellem and Dogon artifacts. After marveling at the wonderful collection of artifacts, we suggested that perhaps instead the man might want to charge a small amount to see the museum-quality pieces. Feeding and providing for his family now was more important to him than any delayed compensation of museum admission fees.
Tellem village site
As the driver skillfully manipulated the vehicle through the narrow curvy roads up the escarpment near Banani, we decided to stop to appreciate the wonderful view. Before us were the villages of Banani Amou, Banani Kokoro, Banani Bassirou, and Banani Na, occupying spots below, on, and above the rocky escarpment. Driving further up the escarpment, we stopped at Komo Ouguro, site of a Tellem village in a cave. Once inside the cave, we were able to walk right up to the purely Tellem village. Some of the buildings made from mud brick were in ruins; others were rather well preserved. Each building seemed to be founded on a separate stone slab. Next to these small buildings, bricks still bearing the deep fingerprints of the masons were evident. I also saw some rocks with a deep bowl-shaped indentation, probably used for the extraction of oil. It was a wonderful opportunity to see Tellem architecture in a settlement occupied and used only by these mysterious people.
The jackal and the diviner
On the outskirts of a Sangha, we stopped at a place that initially looked non-descript to me. Here was a small version of the fetishes we had seen in some of the other villages. In addition, there were some markings drawn into the sand, with sticks and stones occupying strategic positions inside the long, narrow oval. Warning us not to disturb the fragile design, Boubacar then explained to us that it was created by a diviner. First the sticks, stones are placed and special symbols drawn in the sand. Based on the changes occurred as jackals walking through the design at night, the diviner interprets the results and makes predictions about what will happen in the life of the person seeking consultation.
Following a lunch at the Swiss hotel/restaurant Cheval Blanc, we drove out of Bandigiara, the main entry village into Dogon. Prior to our departure of the Dogon area, we drove past a village that was having market day. People, dressed up in their better clothes, were on donkey carts heading to or from the village. Some were hauling firewood and large bags of produce. Women, walking in colorful dresses, were carrying plastic buckets full of tomatoes and other produce. For quite some distance we met people either going to or returning from the market, eager to buy or sell goods.
Back to Bamako
Late afternoon we reached Mac’s Refuge in Sevare, where we once again treated ourselves to a shower and some home-cooked meals. The next morning we headed off on the long drive back to Bamako. As soon as the 4WD stopped in the Sevare gas station, a number of locals headed towards the vehicle in hopes for a sale of items including Fulani blankets, jewelry, hats, shoes, cigarettes, and produce.
Between Sevaré and the town of San, we passed through villages also holding markets. Many people on donkey carts and the occasional horse-pulled carts were making their way to the market. Others were walking, carrying large loads in baskets expertly balanced on their heads. Boys pushed small carts with a pole full of chickens balanced on it. Other kids held up guinea hens, hoping for a roadside sale. Along the way we passed by seasonal riverbeds, now completely dry and sandy. On the road we passed large white passenger trucks, crammed with people in back and gourds, sheep, sacks, plastic bowls, and other goods piled high and tied down on the roof. Sometimes there were even people on top of that! Some larger trucks hauled sheep on the bottom, and large numbers of people filling every spare inch of the open area. Our driver had to constantly be aware of hazards on the road, including slow-moving donkey carts, potholes, and animals such as goats, sheep, cattle, and donkeys attempting to cross the narrow paved road.
In Segou, numerous signs indicated the upcoming COCAN, the all-Africa soccer tournament held starting in mid-January in 5 regions of Mali. New restaurants were built; lodging, stores and roads with streetlights were added. New soccer stadiums were erected. I hope that Mali and its citizens reap great rewards from the tournament, both in the immediate future and for some time to come.
As we neared the capital city of Bamako, darkness began to envelop the area. A curious white fog seemed to hang in the distance towards Bamako. The closer we got to the city, the worse the “fog” was. We then realized that the “fog” burning our eyes and making it difficult to breathe was created by burning garbage – a practice encouraged in order to clear the area of garbage prior to the tournaments. Our thirteen-day trip was now over. The next day we started school, adding with it all the familiar routines.
Reflections
Mali is a country with people proud of their tradition. Despite the numerous cultures and ethnic groups, people generally co-exist peacefully. Life is not easy – most are in subsistence mode, barely able to make enough money or grow enough crops to support their family. Many things are still done as they were hundreds of years ago. New technology and ways of doing things are gradually encroaching, even into isolated areas. It remains to be seen whether the introductions will be positive or harmful to the culture, environment, and overall way of life. Although poor financially, Mali is rich in its diversity and warmth of people. Once again, I have had the pleasure and opportunity to witness this.
Following our siesta, we continued our trek to Arou, the place where the highest Hogon resided. People represented from each village come to offer sacrifices here for rain. The high Hogon is the important decision-maker for the Dogon, and even is consulted as a representative of the Dogon in political matters of the country. After climbing even higher, we finally reached the small home where the gatekeeper of Arou lived. Prior to going up to the ginna, the elderly gatekeeper told us that his wife was suffering from an eye ailment and wondered if we had anything that might be of help. All we had for her swollen eye area (which looked like conjunctivitis or similar eye condition) was some Tylenol. After giving her some advice/instructions, we proceeded up the rocks to the hogon and temple, with the gatekeeper going before us to announce our presence to the hogon. At the foot of a large baobab tree was a circular path. Boubacar instructed us to enter in a clockwise direction. The other way was reserved for people of special status. The Hogon was sitting in the low-roofed toguna next to the ginna. He welcomed us and indicated that it was an honor to have us as guests. The high hogon was simply dressed in white with the traditional strip-sewn cloth and a small white hat. Neither his placement, voice, or dress marked any significance; neither did he exert his authority in our presence. A rooster and hen were running about. The ginna temple in Arou was the largest ginna in all Dogon. It had 9 rounded points on top of the retangular-shaped façade, with 8 ostrich eggs on top of the points (one of the points didn’t have an egg). Even though there was a door opening, it was not possible to see inside the religious building. Above the door were 8 narrow vertical openings, representing the 8 ancestors. The hogon was presented with some money for photography, a small handful of kola nuts, and a reply of thankfulness. At that time we headed down towards the plains, taking the longer but less strenuous route near the village of Ibi. On the sandy road we saw a chameleon making its way to some dry grass. According to Boubacar, sighting of a chameleon is a sign of good luck. Grubby with sweat and dust, we all eagerly took a bucket bath that night before our meal.
Tellem and Dogon Artifacts for Sale
With the Director’s large female wooden sculpture carefully placed in the 4WD’s luggage rack and our luggage in the back of the vehicle, we began our journey out of Dogon. Honoring our promise to the man we saw at Neni with the Tellem artifacts, we went to a small village near Neni and Ibi and went into his boutique. In these two rooms lit only by a few small windows, were Tellem and Dogon artifacts. After marveling at the wonderful collection of artifacts, we suggested that perhaps instead the man might want to charge a small amount to see the museum-quality pieces. Feeding and providing for his family now was more important to him than any delayed compensation of museum admission fees.
Tellem village site
As the driver skillfully manipulated the vehicle through the narrow curvy roads up the escarpment near Banani, we decided to stop to appreciate the wonderful view. Before us were the villages of Banani Amou, Banani Kokoro, Banani Bassirou, and Banani Na, occupying spots below, on, and above the rocky escarpment. Driving further up the escarpment, we stopped at Komo Ouguro, site of a Tellem village in a cave. Once inside the cave, we were able to walk right up to the purely Tellem village. Some of the buildings made from mud brick were in ruins; others were rather well preserved. Each building seemed to be founded on a separate stone slab. Next to these small buildings, bricks still bearing the deep fingerprints of the masons were evident. I also saw some rocks with a deep bowl-shaped indentation, probably used for the extraction of oil. It was a wonderful opportunity to see Tellem architecture in a settlement occupied and used only by these mysterious people.
The jackal and the diviner
On the outskirts of a Sangha, we stopped at a place that initially looked non-descript to me. Here was a small version of the fetishes we had seen in some of the other villages. In addition, there were some markings drawn into the sand, with sticks and stones occupying strategic positions inside the long, narrow oval. Warning us not to disturb the fragile design, Boubacar then explained to us that it was created by a diviner. First the sticks, stones are placed and special symbols drawn in the sand. Based on the changes occurred as jackals walking through the design at night, the diviner interprets the results and makes predictions about what will happen in the life of the person seeking consultation.
Following a lunch at the Swiss hotel/restaurant Cheval Blanc, we drove out of Bandigiara, the main entry village into Dogon. Prior to our departure of the Dogon area, we drove past a village that was having market day. People, dressed up in their better clothes, were on donkey carts heading to or from the village. Some were hauling firewood and large bags of produce. Women, walking in colorful dresses, were carrying plastic buckets full of tomatoes and other produce. For quite some distance we met people either going to or returning from the market, eager to buy or sell goods.
Back to Bamako
Late afternoon we reached Mac’s Refuge in Sevare, where we once again treated ourselves to a shower and some home-cooked meals. The next morning we headed off on the long drive back to Bamako. As soon as the 4WD stopped in the Sevare gas station, a number of locals headed towards the vehicle in hopes for a sale of items including Fulani blankets, jewelry, hats, shoes, cigarettes, and produce.
Between Sevaré and the town of San, we passed through villages also holding markets. Many people on donkey carts and the occasional horse-pulled carts were making their way to the market. Others were walking, carrying large loads in baskets expertly balanced on their heads. Boys pushed small carts with a pole full of chickens balanced on it. Other kids held up guinea hens, hoping for a roadside sale. Along the way we passed by seasonal riverbeds, now completely dry and sandy. On the road we passed large white passenger trucks, crammed with people in back and gourds, sheep, sacks, plastic bowls, and other goods piled high and tied down on the roof. Sometimes there were even people on top of that! Some larger trucks hauled sheep on the bottom, and large numbers of people filling every spare inch of the open area. Our driver had to constantly be aware of hazards on the road, including slow-moving donkey carts, potholes, and animals such as goats, sheep, cattle, and donkeys attempting to cross the narrow paved road.
In Segou, numerous signs indicated the upcoming COCAN, the all-Africa soccer tournament held starting in mid-January in 5 regions of Mali. New restaurants were built; lodging, stores and roads with streetlights were added. New soccer stadiums were erected. I hope that Mali and its citizens reap great rewards from the tournament, both in the immediate future and for some time to come.
As we neared the capital city of Bamako, darkness began to envelop the area. A curious white fog seemed to hang in the distance towards Bamako. The closer we got to the city, the worse the “fog” was. We then realized that the “fog” burning our eyes and making it difficult to breathe was created by burning garbage – a practice encouraged in order to clear the area of garbage prior to the tournaments. Our thirteen-day trip was now over. The next day we started school, adding with it all the familiar routines.
Reflections
Mali is a country with people proud of their tradition. Despite the numerous cultures and ethnic groups, people generally co-exist peacefully. Life is not easy – most are in subsistence mode, barely able to make enough money or grow enough crops to support their family. Many things are still done as they were hundreds of years ago. New technology and ways of doing things are gradually encroaching, even into isolated areas. It remains to be seen whether the introductions will be positive or harmful to the culture, environment, and overall way of life. Although poor financially, Mali is rich in its diversity and warmth of people. Once again, I have had the pleasure and opportunity to witness this.