Writer: Anna Nilsson Spets
The morning starts fresh at The sleeping camel in the Malian capital Bamako, a breakfast consisting of eternally boring baguettes with honey or jam. The coffee is so delicious that it curls on the tongue and the bisap juice with ginger is soft. Bisap is made from the flowers of the roselle hibiscus and contains many benefits.
We start to settle outside the city, it is extremely slow considering the traffic, I don’t understand the local traffic rules, they must be homemade.
Today’s destination is Siby, a larger community about 230 kilometers southwest of Bamako.
Once we got out of the city the roads are good, tolls and police checks are included. But it’s empty…no lines or traffic. The explanation for this is that the transport of fuel to the country has been strictly controlled over the past month. Al Quaida’s phalanxes have attacked transports, so now the entry is taking place with great security.
When refueling arrives at a gas station, the queues grow for miles, a whole day of waiting to fill the motorcycle or half a car tank, it is extremely chaotic.
We visit a village, in this area it is tradition to decorate the houses with paintings. Now it is the end of the dry season and most paintings have been bleached by the sun.
After the rainy season the houses must be repaired, i.e. smeared with mud and then dried and decorated. The building material is clay, cow dung and plant parts.
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The small round houses serve as storage space, they are completely bricked up again to protect against intruders and weather influences.
Peanuts are grown on a large scale, a handy machine separates the shell from the nut, the rest of the cleaning is done by hand.
Some cotton is also grown.
The mango trees are full of unripe fruit, the season has not really started yet. Shame. I love the taste of sunny mango.
We make a stop at a school where a volunteer organization hands out school materials and backpacks.
In Siby we check into a homestay; Auberge de l’arch. Bintou and her French husband run a small business where tourists can enjoy home-cooked food in a friendly, family-friendly and welcoming environment.
My hut consists of a bed with a mosquito net and a ceiling fan. There are hardly any tourists anymore, only Aunt Anna!
Judge my surprise when I hear that one of Mali’s greatest artists has his house next to mine. The bitch Jah Fakoly is one of my favorites. Too bad he was on tour, I would have liked to have coffee with him.
In this area people live from agriculture and small-scale livestock farming, the family has goats, cows, ducks and chickens.
The evening walk goes to the Arch of Kamandjan; the arch is a strange rock formation with many deep caves.
It is a historically important place because in the 14th century it was used, among other things, by warriors who hid in the caves for years. The ark is also important from a cultural point of view, because it is sung about and tells the story of the Mandinka people. The view is fantastic and almost meditative.
Today, people visit the ark to make sacrifices and place a stone on a cairn. If you wish for something and the wish comes true, you should give a gift or do something kind-hearted. Of course I lay a stone, wish and promise one thing.
This night I get sick, my stomach protests, but it was no more than expected. The toilet is remote, it is pitch dark, so with the headlamp on I can run there an x number of times. Well, I survived the stomach flu with the help of my good and bad pills and then a light diet.
One more village visit, here too, today’s activities are in full swing. Sad to see that infrastructure in the form of waste processing is not a priority.
Herbs and grain are dried under the scorching sun. The corn kernels are separated from their cobs by a special machine.
Sabadill hibiscus flowers for bisap juice.
There is a fantastic, large, beautiful sausage tree in the middle of the village, my chaffis can buy some fruit. The fruits can be cooked but also used for medicinal purposes. The bark is used as a remedy for stomach infections.
The vital water does not come from a tap here… With assistance you have access to a well where the water is pumped.
Some older men weave beautiful baskets and on another farm washing is done by hand with a washboard and home-brewed water in cans.
It’s lunchtime and women and children gather for a break. It is common to consume a stew of meat, fish or vegetables in peanut sauce. The food is cooked on a stove in the kitchen hut.
The late afternoon is dedicated to a special experience in the form of traditional dance. The Dogon people are a tribe that lives very simply on the edge of the mountain massif, they are a farming people who live in funny walled huts. The tribe believes in three gods; of earth, air and water.
The tribe has a tradition of more than a thousand years to connect with the ancestors through dance, text and drums.
They believe in an afterlife and one of the rituals takes place at death to help the deceased get to the other side. Some ceremonies may be held for days and repeated after a number of years. Rituals also offers its signature home-made beer, ‘the liquid bread’ which is brewed from sorghum, yeast and other grains.
The drummers prepare their instruments by heating and drying them with live fire, passing on the profession from their father’s side.
Being a mask maker is an honorable mission and is highly regarded in the village community, where the profession is also passed on from generation to generation. There are more than 70 different masks, each with their own meaning.
The dance and rhythms are evocative, for the Dogons it is an important part that calls for harmony between life and death. It takes many years before you become a fully-fledged dancer, which also includes knowing the lyrics by heart.
However, that evening’s dance is a show and is not related to any ritual. We spend another night at Bintou’s and the next morning I write a note to Tiken Jah Fakoly and then we continue to forage among the mango trees.
The village school we visit is full of children, the children are curious and shout hello in their home language, I am allowed to enter the classroom and thank them for allowing me to visit them. School in Mali is compulsory until ninth grade. If you can afford it, go to a private school for a better education, but many children leave early to help their parents.
We leave the mountains behind us and roll further towards Segou where the next two days will be filled with new knowledge and impressions.
60+ year old aunt with a lifelong love for Africa. Emigrated to Flanders in Belgium and works with plants every day. Writes, takes photos and tries to inspire others to travel on a budget. Blogs about “Anna’s mixture” about traveling, working, planting, writing and much more.
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