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Contents
Dogon
Travelogue |
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Niger River Trip to Timbuktu
December, 2001
Although it is possible to reach the fabled
city of Timbuktu by modern transportation (car or airplane), we chose
to go by pinasse on the Niger River. Although it considerably lengthened
our time spent in transit (a 4WD vehicle can go from Mopti to Timbuktu
in about 6 hours), the nearly three days spent on the river up to Timbuktu
and two days back to Mopti were romantic, leisurely, and filled with scenes
that could come right out of National Geographic.
On the 26th of December, we boarded the pinasse
in Mopti, the main port city in Mali. Many pirogues (narrow dugout canoes)
had already docked on the shore, with the fishermen hastily unloading
their morning catch. Making the journey to Timbuktu were the Director
of AISB where I work, her adopted 8-year-old daughter, a music teacher
from Kenya International School, our guide, the three-crew members of
the boat, and me.
The Niger, Source of Life for many
As we departed Mopti, boys and young men in pirogues were throwing out
their nets in hopes of catching capitane and other local fish.  Typically,
these fishermen would be from the Bozo ethnic group, traditional fishermen
of the Niger. One could spot an occasional donkey cart on the shores of
the river, as well as women washing clothes in the river, and special
pumps with hoses that enabled nearby fields to be irrigated. Women pounded
millet in much the same manner that their ancestors pounded the grain
staple food. Children from the Bozo and Fulani (ethnic group that traditionally
are the cattle herders) villages enthusiastically waved and greeted us
as our pinasse (essentially a larger version of the pirogue boat and with
a domed canopy woven from grasses) passed by. Suddenly children would
come out of homes or stop their chores including tending the nets, pounding
millet, or tending cattle.
Occasionally, another pinasse would pass us by, typically equipped with
a larger motor. Some pinasses were transporting tourists to Timbuktu,
including a boatload of Asian tourists equipped with camcorders, cameras,
and other fancy gadgets. Other pinasses heavily laden with local passengers,
produce, motor bikes, and even sheep.
In order to reach our destination in a timely manner, we knew that it
was important to keep the boat moving rather than making stops. Fish was
often purchased from the fishermen just pulling up their nets. It was
cooked over a hot coal “stove” right on the boat. On the same
hot surface water was heated for tea or Nescafe. Spaghetti and potatoes
were other common meals. For dessert we had watermelon – for some
reason, it was especially fun to spit the seeds out into the water.
Although it took us longer to reach our destination, our slower motor
enabled us to see and enjoy the abundant activity occurring both in the
water and along its shores. Near the Fulani village of Seweri, we had
the opportunity to witness cattle crossing the river, sometimes with only
their head, horns, and humped back sticking out of the water.
The Niger River, especially in the flood plain area around Mopti, is an
ornithologist’s delight, filled with numerous types of birds, many
of which are migratory. White herons, finches and kingfishers lined the
shores. Others swooped through the sky in a huge flock, changing direction
and color simultaneously. At times the river became rather narrow, enabling
a closer view of life along the shore.
After a supper of fish caught by a Bozo fisherman and some rice cooked
right on the boat, we watched the sunset be replaced by a full moon and
a glorious array of stars. With the moon illuminating our way, the crew
navigated until we reached the seasonal Lake Débo. The tents we
pitched provided some protection against the mosquitoes and other pests,
but not against the chilly air. We got up a little after 5:30 am so our
boat could cross the lake before the waves got too rough. Even though
the lake was quite wide, it was also rather shallow, with patches of weeds
already showing up in areas. One could also see piles of sticks anchored
but floating, indicating good fishing or the depth of the water.
The Village of Aka
The first village we stopped at was Aka. It had a mixture of people from
the ethnic groups Bozo, Balla (former slaves of the Tuareg), Fulani, and
Songhay. Like most villages along the river, it had no hospital, doctor,
or even a school. The mud brick structures had a definite Moor influence,
similar to some of the architecture I saw in Djenne. I found it rather
ironic and amusing to see TV antennae amongst some of these mud structures.
Near the village we spotted wild monkeys in the tall weeds.
Later on in the day we stopped in the village of Niafounki, home to Mali’s
blues musician Ali Farkatouré. I was surprised at the large size
of the town, complete with a bustling market. In the congested market,
bras were being sold right next to a stall selling the to and other local
foods, roots, enamel cookware, plastic goods, and huge hunks of dangling
meat. In the street, women were baking pita-like bread in open stoves.
Some of this was purchased, providing a break from the baguette bread
we normally had for breakfast. In addition to the fish and vegetables
purchased in the town, the local bread provided a wonderful supper. A
little past the shores of Niafounki, we once again slept on the shores
of the Niger.
Once again up at 5:40, we headed to our final destination, although slowed
by rough waters. To get our fish for lunch, the crew parked the boat by
a tiny village composed of temporary dwellings of the Songhay and Balla
groups. We took this opportunity to meet the local people and stretch
our legs. Some of the children were completely naked or scantily clothed.
Others were dressed in ragged western clothes. Evidently not getting many
light-skinned visitors, we were quite the curiosity to them. Small fish
were being smoked over the hot coals. Chickens and sheep were wandering
about. Prior to taking off, we gave the children (many with runny noses)
some crackers and our empty water bottles.
For several different ethnic groups, the Niger
River provided a livelihood as well as a source of life. The Bozo people
are known as the fishermen. Especially prominent in the Niger River flood
plain near Mopti, they can be seen throwing out nets or special traps
to catch capitane and other fish. Their homes are typically made from
mud brick, sometimes with a roof covered with grass. The Fulani traditionally
are the cattle herdsmen. They wander in search for grass and water for
their cattle. The Songhay are more common closer to Timbuktu. They often
grow rice in the wet season and either raise cattle or fish, especially
in the dry season. Some homes of the Songhay people are mud brick while
others are more temporary. The Balla people, former slaves of the Tuareg
people, are essentially a mixture of different ethnic groups stripped
of their identity. Along the Niger, the Balla try to survive through fishing.
Like their Tuareg counterparts, the Balla typically live in non-permanent
domed tent-like homes and can be rather nomadic.
Along the shore, vegetation began changing from the grassy and almost
marshy areas nearer Mopti to few to no shrubs in the sandy soil. Some
trees were growing in the water, most likely on dry land during the height
of the dry season. During the third day on the boat, the shore became
sandier. One could see where the level of the water had been during the
rainy season, carved in the sandy ground.
 Ever
nearing our destination, we spotted a hippo. At first only the uppermost
part of its head and body was sticking out of the water. Then it gave
a half-hearted yawn. Anxiously watching the unusual site until it was
beyond our view, we were once again reminded why the slower river travel
is also a more memorable method. The river’s edge began changing
from the green provided by the flood plain to fringes of the Sahara. Tiny
villages continued to dot the river’s edge. I found it so odd to
see TV antennae in these remote and sometimes transient villages with
no running water and solar panels providing the means of power for the
televisions. A few donkeys and even some horses were seen, typically hitched
to a cart or doing other manual labor.
Timbuktu
At 5:05 pm, our cabin fever was relieved as we arrived in Koroumé,
the river village nearest to Timbuktu. Several pinasses were docked, including
some that had passed us along the way. After loading our belongings into
a 4WD, we began the final 10km to Timbuktu – on a paved road! I
was surprised to see rice fields along the tree-lined road, an area that
at one time was part of the Niger. People were living in makeshift tents
right off the fields and busy road. Some were riding donkeys. Other donkeys
were piled high with grasses. Women were seen wearing cloth veils around
their head to provide shelter from the sun and dust. Some trees even grew
in water. Suddenly the trees gave way to shrubs and sand. We were in the
fringes of the Sahara. The road as we entered the fabled city changed
to sand, in some places rather deep.
Almost immediately upon arrival, I went out
to photograph the sunset. At first I could see the white sands right up
to the pink sky.
Then the Tuareg temporary shelters became silhouetted as the sun went
down. I was pleasantly surprised that the temperature was comfortable.
Our hotel was right on the edge of the Sahara. Outside, children were
playing soccer. I could spot a school and some other more “modern”
buildings.
Tour of Timbuktu, the city
The next morning, we toured the rather sleepy Timbuktu. As the wind kicked
up the sand, it was rather difficult to imagine that even 30 years ago
the Niger River ran through Timbuktu. At present Timbuktu only receives
about 100 mm of rain a year, coming down in short but torrential rainfall.
The sandy streets were wider than those in Djenné. In fact, some
were quite wide. All were covered with rather loose sand, some with animal
droppings. The soft, fine, white sand made walking a little more difficult
and required drivers to go faster in order to not get stuck. Unfortunately
sections of the city and even the bushes in the desert were littered with
plastic bags and other rubbish of modern society. Women were baking loaves
of bread in outdoor ovens, sliding their pan through sand before slapping
a lump of dough on them and then into the oven. Indeed, the rather flat
bread did have a slightly sandy texture. Other women were pounding millet.
In addition, I saw a man making mud bricks by hand, much like his ancestors
probably made. The occasional man with a turban covering his face and
some tourists going to specific destinations were also observed. Given
the fame and mystique of the city, I was surprised that there wasn’t
a more organized tourist souvenir presence, such as postcards, T-shirts
with Timbuktu on them and even the Tuaregs selling their work.
Architecture and ornamentation
Many of the homes had old doors adorned with silver decorations and small
red pieces of red cloth behind the silver shapes. Some buildings had fancier
wooden Moroccan-style windows, especially on the second floor.
Djingareiber "Big Mosque"
First we toured Djingareiber (meaning “big mosque” in Songhay),
the oldest mosque in Timbuktu. Architects from southern Spain built the
mud façade structure in 1325. Taking off my sandals, I entered
a mosque for the first time. The hallway was rather dark, with the only
light coming from the entry. Many of the 390 pillars (stone covered with
mud) had oscillating fans attached to them. Although the temperature was
currently quite pleasant, the fans were likely essential during the oppressive
heat (sometimes over 47°C) occurring much of the year. In one of the
rather dark passageways, three wooden pieces protruded from the wall,
now worn smooth by the multitude of hands touching them for purification.
In the 16th century the mosque, preferred for Friday worship, was expanded.
A separate worship area was designated for the women. There also was a
covered courtyard that was a popular place for prayer during the week.
Every morning a man still goes up the minaret to perform the call to prayer,
without the use of loudspeakers or other artificial means. From the rooftop
we had a good view of the city including the encroaching Sahara Desert.
Although Timbuktu currently is a fraction of its religious dominance held
during its golden age, there are reminders of Islam all around, including
over 300 holy men buried all over the city. In fact, Timbuktu might be
considered as an alternative place to come instead of making the journey
to Mecca. In addition, the city still is part of the salt route. The very
heavy and hard slabs take 18 days to arrive by camel in Timbuktu from
the salt mines deep in the Malian Sahara.
Famous Sites
After touring the mosque, we proceeded down the sandy streets. We passed
the preserved home where René Caille lived. In front of the mosque
Sidi Yehia, a group of girls played a game, singing and dancing in a circle.
Although not impressive in terms of size or overall architectural beauty
(it had no minarets), the mosque did have wooden doors adorned with silver
symbolic ornaments including the moon and stars. We then went to Boctou’s
well, the place where Timbuktu was founded. The city is named after Bouctou
(whose name means “lady with a big navel) and Tim means “well
(or water).” On the same property as the small well was a modest
museum. On the door were two circles, with the
larger top silver circle representing men and the smaller bottom circle
representing women. A narrow ring connected the two, representing the
mysterious link between men and women.
Near the top of the door was a dove-like design, signifying peace. Next
to the dove were small raised circles representing the number of children
the family had. Other symbols are unique to the family, protecting the
family. Inside the museum there was a nice collection of Tuareg musical
instruments. According to the guide, women make the instruments and play
the string instruments, while the men often play the drums. I was particularly
interested in the N’djerbâ, an instrument that looked like
the forerunner of the violin, complete with a bow shaped more like a hunting
bow. In addition to instruments, the small museum’s collection also
consisted of clothing. The gofa was a dress worn during the initiation
ceremony, typically after being married. Quite similar to the Tuareg women
I saw perform at the Ambassador’s residence in Bamako, the women
would interweave gold items into their hair. They also would wear ankle
bracelets. Such a costume often was an heirloom, passed down the generations.
Our next main stop involved visiting the manuscripts
in the Ahmed Baba library. In the small room lit by a single fluorescent
light were precious religious manuscripts. Many of the aged handwritten
manuscripts were stored in glass bookcases or a metal cabinet. The most
rare or old manuscripts were enclosed in a glass display table. Others
were simply piled on the table. Efforts are being made to gather religious
manuscripts all over the country to be preserved and stored at the Ahmed
Baba center. Ahmed Baba, for whom the library is named, was a highly intelligent
scholar deported to Morocco to use his scholarly skills. Refusing to offer
his assistance, Ahmed was exiled in Morocco for 14 years. After being
freed by the prince of Morocco he went back to Timbuktu where he preserved
manuscripts and wrote many more.
Stung!
After the typical noon siesta, we began preparing for a late afternoon
camel ride. I proceeded to put on my hiking shoes when I realized that
something was in my right shoe. Thinking that it was merely some debris
accumulated during our boat trip, I stuck my right hand in the shoe toe
area to scrape out the debris. Unfortunately the “debris”
stung me, providing an instant combination of burning, throbbing, and
pain. Instead of touring the market, I spent the time at the clinic in
Timbuktu, receiving treatment for an unknown (it disappeared as someone
shook out the shoe) insect. With my right ring finger bandaged and still
quite painful, I was determined to still to on the camel ride.
Camel Ride into the Desert
Starting a short distance past the hotel, we mounted our camels and began
the slow and bumpy 40-minute ride into the Sahara. The surroundings included
scrub bushes, thorn bushes, the occasional desert beetle, and lots of
white sand. As we got closer to the Tuareg encampment, we could see small
herds of goats, some Tuareg men in their traditional turban, and some
children playing. Unfortunately we also saw behind a sand dune a pile
of alcohol cans, obviously left by some tourists. Not only did the cans
litter and mar the landscape, they also served as a terrible example of
tourist invasion and alteration of the environment.
The Tuareg Encampment
Shortly after we arrived, we were led by our Tuareg guide to a group
of women, all of whom were dressed in indigo cloth. With their bronze-colored
skin, fine features and smooth black hair, their appearance contrasted
sharply with members of other Malian ethnic groups. They began singing
a response echo began by one of the women.  Two
women played simple drums balanced on two flip-flops, whose tension and
pitch was altered with the addition of small amounts of water or sand.
The old woman who expertly drummed the rather repetitive rhythm especially
intrigued me. Next to her was a toddler wearing a shirt but nothing on
the bottom. Flies covered the child’s light-skinned face that was
struggling to smile. As the women began clapping a rhythm, I could see
the blue dye of the indigo on their hands, giving credence to their nickname
“blue men of the North.” A few men in traditional Tuareg flowing
clothing (also blue) and turbans revealing only their eyes began a mock
sword demonstration.
Following the customary sweet tea in tiny glasses the size of shot glasses,
we were obliged to look at the goods created by the Tuareg salesmen. Some
laid out leather boxes, others silver jewelry, others had embellished
swords and knifes with leather sheathes. I bought a small camel leather
spice purse whose symbolic etched designs were colored by dyes from local
plants. We then made the camel ride back to the city. Walking by moonlight,
our Tuareg guide led us to a nice restaurant. Here we had a meal of lamb,
and a wheat grain in a shape of a bun, similar to a large dumpling. A
flavorful sauce enhanced the dish. After eating we greeted the staff members
of the travel guide series Lonely Planet that had been traveling throughout
Mali gathering data and photos to make a guidebook. Across from the restaurant
we could see a monument being constructed. Called “Place de la Famne
de la Paix” (place of the flame of peace), it is the place where
10,000 people watched as 3,000 weapons of Tuareg rebels and the Malian
army were burned in 1996.
Return River Trip
We stopped at the village of Sebi for fish. A number of older men were
gathered around a circle, playing Wali, a popular Songhay strategy game
using stones and sticks. The men were quite involved in the game, throwing
down sticks or smooth stones in succession. Showing them the short clip
I had videotaped of the game action, the group was quite enamored, pointing
out their position on the LCD screen and a particularly strategic move.
Another man was repairing a small fish net would typically be placed in
shallow water for one or two days. Just prior to leaving the village,
we were asked if we had any medicine to give. Uneducated about the correct
usage and risks of medicine, the villagers of this remote village believed
that western medicine was like magic candy and could automatically be
of benefit.
We stopped for fish at the village of Dagna.
Even though we stayed in the boat, we were treated to an unusual sight
– boys were sitting atop small bundles of carefully tied sticks,
using a pole to navigate the shallow water. In a carefree manner, the
boys seemed to enjoy their little game. A couple expertly stood up on
the bundle, balancing them. The whole situation reminded me of the ingenuity
of Malian children – they can have fun with simple things and will
make the toys out of nothing if necessary. That night the boat continued
traveling until 10:30 pm, navigating by the full moon, which was occasionally
partly veiled by thin clouds. As I huddled under my blankets in the small
tent, I could hear dogs and the strong waves lapping against the shore
and parked boat.
The next morning, or second day on the boat, we got up around 5:40 am.
Breakfast consisted of the bread from Timbuktu (slightly sandy) and jelly.
We saw many birds, including the small birds that flock together, simultaneously
changing directions.
'Here Fishy Fishy'
In contrast to the way up to Timbuktu, the water was very calm on the
way back. This provided a smoother ride, faster time and wonderful reflections
in the water. After sunset, the sky became filled with a beautiful array
of stars. The moon took its time to finally shine, but when it did it
was full and bright. In hopes of reaching Mopti at an earlier time, we
decided to travel a little longer by boat during the night before stopping
for the night. Suddenly several fish jumped on the boat. Too small to
eat, I threw them back in the water. Shortly after, several more jumped
in. All total, we had 8 fish join us on the pinasse. At 9:30pm, we arrived
at the sandy shores of a village. Since it was noisy and would not provide
restful sleep, we decided to continue on, traveling all night in hopes
of reaching Mopti by late morning. Late at night, the sudden landing of
the boat on the shore awakened me – the boat driver had dozed off.
It took the efforts of all the crew members to push the boat into navigable
waters. At about 4 am, we arrived in Mopti and slept on the boat until
a more reasonable hour.
Back to Civilization
After taking a shower and putting on clean clothes at Mac’s Refuge
in Sevare, we finally felt human again. I recharged my camcorder and digital
camera batteries, knowing that there wouldn’t be such electrical
opportunities in Dogon. After a wonderful home-cooked Chinese-thematic
meal including egg drop soup and sweet-sour pork, we went to bed early
that night. The next morning we had a hearty breakfast including buckwheat
pancakes (toppings included guava jam, bissop, mint, or maple syrup) and
rice pudding.
With the 4-wheel drive packed, we were ready to continue our journey,
heading to the northern villages of Dogon.
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