Travel Stories - Mali

We climb to a severe height where my guide leads me into a courtyard. Here we meet a guy with a whole range old traditional hunting guns Dogon style. Via my guide I understand that they still hunt for rabbits, antelopes and sometimes even monkeys when they come close to the houses. Further on the road we meet in an meeting house an old man that is weaving. We arrive at the place where the Japanese tourists I met last night had their performance of a traditional mask dance last night. Oeps, that should have been magical because this place is fantastic in the middle of the village surrounded by big rocks, mudbrick houses and some trees. From here you have a beautiful view over the cliff on one side and the desert with its trees on the other side. 

We pick up our bag and leave before it gets too hot. Yesterday I noticed it fort he first time and it’s time to ask about it; when people meet each other here in Dogon country, they always ask each other the same thing and it seems as if they answer the same thing over and over again. Abdullai explains that you first ask how it goes with yourself, then with your brother, sister etc. etc. and the other one always says "yes, good", yes "perfect" and so on. That’s why you hear the word “sew” several times because it means “good”. But he also explains that it’s a kind of politeness because everyone just continues without really paying attention what the other person is saying. We continue our walk and we pass a place where large baobab tree is felled – from the bark everything is made - hats, wood, weaving rope etc. and they take just the outside so the tree is recovering quickly so they can take more the following year. It is one of the survival skills they use in Dogon country.

After seeing the first camel here, we arrive at the holy crocodile pool in the village of “Amani”. If you come to close to see the pool, people come up to you and you have to pay a kind of entrance fee. You can ask the people here to throw in a chicken and you can see how the crocodiles eat it – ofcourse you pay more for the “entertainment”. I skip it, I’ve seen enough crocs and caimans in Ghana and for me it’s too touristic. In a courtyard of a very sweet family we drink millet and have a chat where taking pictures is not a problem - on the contrary grandpa encourage me to take more pics with his grandson. Only the boy is very afraid of my white face and starts to cry everytime when I come close to show them my pictures from them. Further on the roead we stop at friends from Abdullai and take a seat in a mudbrick hut where two young boys play a kind of dice game. They throw it in a wooden crocodile with holes in his back. Suddenly behind me I see two girls with children show up with on their backs a sort of calabash on their heads. They have rings in their noses and ears and look very traditional. Wonderful - and I can even take a picture. They even sit inside and breastfeed their children without any shame. Still amazed what I’ve seen just before we continue our walk and I can take a look in one of the school classrooms of the village and even feel a bit embarrassed when the director comes to know me and the class sings a song for me.

We walk past a tobacco field to our next village which is about 2.5 kilometers away: "Ireli" - the place where we go for lunch. A beautiful house that serves as a campement with lots of steep stairs, roofs on different layers and lots of rooms. The largest room has some tables and chairs and the wind blows through the holes in the mudbrick walls and openings. There is a mattress against the wall and I decide to take a little nap. Later on we eat macaroni and we stay here until late in the afternoon because of the heat. I meet a friend of Abdullai - Pascalle who joins us later on when we continue our walk. I’m kind of happy and relieved so I don’t walk all the way next to my guide and can enjoy the trip even more. The next village looks very muddy and is built where the cliff begins. . It looks a bit like the "kasbahs" I've seen in Morocco - unrealistic. Beautiful painted drawings have been made on the walls on the festival grounds and I can even take a seat in the meeting place where once again an old man is weaving rope from a piece of baobab bark. Here I give away my last cola nuts. Here are also those "Djenghis Khan" like helmets that, to my knowledge, are only worn by real Dogoners. There is a drum and a pair of rattles. 

It is a long way back along big boulders and rocks until we are back in the campement and I buy another expensive bottle of water that I really need! Pascalle goes with us because he has to buy some medicine in Banani and it is already after five when we are back on the road. I hear that there is a girl in the village with malaria and that this is being tried to cure with traditional medicines. On the way I can ride a bit with a cart with donkey and we arrive at the camp "El Cameleon" in Banani while my guide plays the last piece of his cell phone with music - for me not really necessary – I really enjoyed the silence.

It is already a lot more touristy here than in the other villages - many fake camps, (too) many souvenir shops and many jeeps and motorcycles. Yet I am the only tourist in this camp ("El Camaleon") and I throw some cold water in my face and wait for the roof on the food. We eat rice again (now with chicken instead of goat) and when Abdullai finally shows up he is drunk - not a little bit but very bad. He is playing with his food. After dinner he is gone again and I decide to go to sleep. Especially after my terrible night last night. I put my mattrass far away from everything and hopefully I don’t get disturbed. I’m just dropping of when I hear my drunk guide on the roof and hear him saying "big brother you have to come”. In the distance I hear some children singing and dancing and I decide to get up and join him on the street. There are some 15 girls dancing and singing in a circle without any tourists, and I make a movie. I almost start to feel ashamed of my guide and say that I am going back now to go to sleep. A little later I hear my guide again climbing up the roof, now with loud music on his mobile. Irritated, I wake up and ask him to leave politely. After I’m asleep I’m suddenly awake – it seems that the wind picked up again. I see my drunk guide hanging in one of the chairs and he has forgotten to take off his flashlight. I move my mattress to a different angle on the roof with a higher wall which hopefully breaks the wind and sleep for a few hours more. Then suddenly I’m awake again -  this time from the phone from my guide. It, s almost five o'clock and since Abdullai is as drunk as a skunk, he does not hear anything. On the other hand, I am awake.