Here is a jam session at Abdoul's house. He is playing djembe while the man on the far left is playing the Kamelan-Ngoni, a 6 to 10-stringed lute from the Wassulu region. The Ngoni player's name is Ismaela Diakite and in addition to studying djembe I also studied Ngoni with him for two weeks. I can say that the Ngoni is the second most fun instrument for me to play, after the drumset. It's very funky and bluesy and gives one a feeling of peace and real contentment to play or listen to.
My classroom in Mali, also known as "The Mango Trees". A great place to struggle with the rigors and intricacies of Bamana rhythms, and try to let them soak in somehow.
My Ngoni teacher, Ismaela Diakite. A truly amazing artist and teacher.
One lesson I took with a very old djembefola named Sega, who is about 72. He had stopped playing for about 5 years but recently began again and we are all thankful. His style was pure feel. And he has the coolest hat.
My teacher Abdoul seems to know everyone who is anyone in the music scene in Bamako. This man is Lobi Traore, quite a famous Malian guitarist who has recorded with Bonni Rait. Although I'm not overly fond of musical comparisons, many people have called him the Jimi Hendrix of Africa and I think that's fair. Anyway, he was over visiting and was playing and I didn't know who he was. I sat down next to my friend to listen and whispered, "Hey, this guy is pretty good". When she whispered back that it was Lobi Traore, I ran to get my camera.
Here is a wedding I played at in Bamako with Abdoul's cousin, Seydou, who is an excellent doundoun player. In Mali, the bell is held in the left hand instead of being strapped to the doundoun. This man playing is an old doundoun master who I was very fortunate to hear play.
Another wedding in a neighborhood in Bamako. The instruments were the Dji-dounou, upside-down calabashes in water, plastic water jugs tied to chairs, and two guys with microphones doing a kind of constant chant-singing. It sounded awesome.
A big crew getting ready to go out on the town in Bamako. The nightlife here is really quite something, and you pay close to Western prices for it.
One lazy Sunday I went downtown with Yacouba, a master djembe carver who works with Abdoul. I visited his workshop right in downtown Bamako and saw how a djembe is made from start to finish. The man pictured below is hollowing out the initial rough shape of the drum.
Here is Yacouba doing some finish work on a handcarved djembe.
Here is the Malian Independence Monument, just across the street from Yacouba's workshop.
A sculpture in downtown Bamako from the Africa Cup 2002.
After my first week studying in Bamako, I decided to break my studies in order to travel up to attend the Festival of the Desert, a yearly concert held out at the edge of the Sahara in the semi-permanent town of Essakane, in the territory of the nomadic Touareg. The Touareg people inhabit the Saharan regions of many African countries and the festival is based on their concept of coming together annually to share stories and culture. However, the modern version is a stage with a lineup of Malian performers and some guest groups from overseas. In order to get there, I first had to go up to the twin towns of Sevare and Mopti, about halfway to Timbuktu. Mopti is a major port on the Niger river and there is much coming and going.
In Sevare I stayed at the home of my man Cross (pictured standing). He was super hospitable and helped my friend and I navigate the town and find onward transport, as well as just being a cool guy to hang with. When I came back through town after Timbuktu, his friend Yaya (seated) was my guide to Dogon. I put this picture in to emphasize the enormous amount of hospitality I received from complete strangers and the amount of trust I was able to put in them, which was truly touching. There are many other people whose houses I have stayed in along the way, too numerous to mention. Their kindness and curiosity has really been the highlight of the trip in many ways.
Here is the port at Mopti.
Halfway point to Timbuktu.
Trying to beat the dust during the ride.
This is Omar's father. He was friends with Ali Farka Toure and played some wonderful guitar for us in the same style.
After a brief first stay in Timbuktu we headed straight for the festival. Here we are helping someone else get unstuck in the desert sand on the way to Essakane. The ride there was in the back of a big pickup with about 15 people, swerving around and holding on for dear life. I found it quite exciting and fun, until the tainted water I'd drunk that morning kicked in. I spent the last half hour desperately trying to hold in the diarhea, then the next 6 hours at the festival just being sick and miserable.
Beating the dust Tuareg style (with a Mozambican Capulana).
As I mentioned, I was quite sick when I got to the festival. So instead of walking around and checking it out, I just laid in one place and let things come to me. Here is a Tuareg man passing by.
Here is a spontaneous jam session that happened while I was sick and hanging out. It included Malian-style guitar, an Irish man playing the Bohdran, a Malian MC busting rhymes, shakers and a kazoo solo.
Here is a shot of the market at the festival the next day. Unfortunately, my camera was set to a very low exposure but the photo was so good I had to include it.
One day I went on a hike by myself and walked all the way out to where the big Saharan dunes start.
Me, feeling very dehydrated after spending a few days in the desert.
The grande finale of the festival was a performance by Ivory Coast's reggae star Tiken Jah Fakoly.
Transport leaving the festival was scarce.
Back in Timbuktu, I spent a couple days wandering around and taking lots of pictures. Below are some street scenes I took from Timbuktu. Some of the photographic ideas were based on things David showed me. Thanks very much David.
Street scene, Timbuktu.
Walking around Timbuktu with Omar.
Another street scene.
I wonder what kind of movies they rent.
Stop AIDS
Very startlingy, there were several spots around town where dead cats were hanging from the powerlines. From faraway, it looked fairly similar to when people tie shoes together and thrown them up in the wires. However, upon drawing closer one witnesses a more gruesome sight. Omar explained to us that the cats are eaten by children growing up, but did not know why people throw them up in the powerlines.
There are some very old books preserved in Timbuktu, reputedly including some original pages of the Koran. I visited a small museum where a vew ancient manuscripts were on display. Most of them were related to Islam in some way. The oldest here was about 700 years old I think.
A donkey basking in the dust.
What is it????
This is the local neighborhood crematorium, which I would have had no idea about passing by, if not for being with Omar that day.
A grandmother and grandson.
Here are a few pictures that my friend Dave took one night as we walked around Timbuktu. I cast a formidable shadow while standing up on the Independence Monument for a closer look.
Dave and I went to a local bar, the Zenith, and saw a local band playing the desert blues. They let me sit in on drumset for a couple of songs.
Here is another guest musician that performed that night. I was told that he is quite well-known around the area. He also happens to be a midget, which contributes to his fame.
Leaving Timbuktu. Here is sunrise waiting for the barge to cross the Niger.
After a fruitful and interesting but difficult week or so in desert country, I returned briefly to Sevare to organize my trip into the Dogon country. The Dogon inhabit a cliff escarpment which is about 100 km long. Their traditional houses are up in the shadow of the cliff itself, resembling very much cliff dwellings I've seen in the Southwestern United States such as those at Bandolier National Monument. Before the Dogon, a smaller people named the Tellem inhabited the area and there are many legends about them, including that they could fly, as their houses were made in caves completely unuaccessible halfway up the cliff. The Dogon are said to have learned much of their unique culture from the Tellem and are held in much respect in Mali as a people apart with great traditional knowledge.
On the contemporary side of things, a visit to Dogon for a foreigner is an expensive undertaking. As one is forbidden to enter the area without a guide, there is a virtual entry fee for all foreigners just to be there which creates an interesting feeling of both privilege and mystery, and certainly makes one's wallet lighter. It's an interesting balance that's been struck to try and shelter the Dogon somewhat from outside influence while at the same time profiting from it. I guess that 's the best I can describe it.
At any rate, I had a good time there, my guide was a nice guy and although not overly knowledgeable he was into hiking and we saw a lot of beautiful country. Being in Dogon is to be in pastoral paradise, and every moment seems to be a small eternity of contentment yet it also passes by so quickly.
A sign warning of the steep descent down the escarpment. Look out below. We began our journey here.
A nice little oxcart ride through Dogon Country.
The view from the village of Teli, looking up to the ancient cliff dwellings. A traditional granary is in the foreground.
The beautiful mud mosque in Teli.
Of all the places I thought I wouldn't see a hint of commercialism, Dogon was right up there. Somehow Coke sneaked this one in.
The view from the encampement where we stayed in the village of Ende.
The village of Ende displays its wares for sale: traditional Bogolan cloth, manufactured and dyed locally.
My guide Yaya (on the right) with his friend in Ende.
Traditional dwelling up under the cliffside at Ende.
Climbing up the escarpment on the way to Begnemato.
The view after the climb.
A small village on the way to Begnemato.
Begnemato, my favorite village of the trip.
Still-life with travel rig in Dogon country.
The grand sorcerer and hunter of Begnemato, hanging out at his house.
The other grand hunter of Begnemato, wearing his magical hunting clothes that allow him to sneak up on his prey unaware. This man is good friends with my guide and was gracious enough to dress up in his traditional clothes for me and pose for some photographs. Afterward, he showed me a whole book of photos of him that various tourists had taken and sent back to him in Begnemato.
A baobab sunrise in Begnemato.
After Begnemato, we descended the escarpment again and hiked out to some dunes before visiting the village of Guimni.
My guide's friend in Guimni took me to this very cool and secluded spot up in the escarpment.
A man weaving cloth on a traditional loom. These types of looms are used all over West Africa to weave strips of cloth which are then stitched together.
A sunset over Dogon Country.
Fueling up the motorbike for the journey out of Dogon.
After Dogon Country, I returned briefly to Sevare before heading down to see the world-famous mosque at Djenne, runner-up to be one of the new 7 wonders of the world. Apparently, it is resurfaced at the end of the rainy season every year by a team of over 4000 volunteers.
Here is the Mosque at Djenne. Every Monday, including the one I was there, a grand market is held infront of the mosque.
The market at Djenne, which is held every Monday out infront of the building.
After visiting Djenne, I headed down to the regional capital of Segou, a few hours north of Bamako on the Niger river. En route, I passed through the town of Bla.
Sunset in Foutaka-Zambougou.
After my time in Zambougou, I returned to Bamako for about a week to finish my musical studies and wrap things up before heading back to Guinea. Look for Guinea Part 2 sometime in the future.
