Into the Dogon Country

From Koro I was hoping to catch a quick ride to Bankass, but it wasn’t too be. Instead, we camped for the night at some weird place without electricity, where it was hotter than hell and loud, loud, loud. At one point, after “aheming” several times, one of the women got up to bang on my door and ask if I wanted to join them outside where it was cooler. I told her no, but a little peace and quiet would be nice. I was up at 5:40 the next morning and showered again in the dark (probably for the best, considering) and then we walked tot he car park where we waited and waited and waited for a car to Mopti to fill up. I’ve decided Malians never travel because I’ve never waited so long in Ghana for a vehicle to find passengers. I ended up being approached by a guide named Souleman who was heading into the Dogon for 10 days with two French girls who had just arrived from Burkina. I thought it was perfect, except for a couple things. One, the girls and Soulemane spoke French, Soulemane is disabled and walks with a crutch (and talked about a “tranquil” pace) and three, the girls were hippy-dippy. But whatever. I figured some company is better than none and Souleman assured me both he and the girls spoke English. (Mental note: swearing does not constitute fluency.) It has been, so far, rather disastrous. At the moment, Soulemane and I are watching for les jeunes filles to arrive from the previous village. They are roughly four hours behind schedule, which seems about right for their internal clocks. Initially we piled into a cab after an excruciating wait that drove me mental, as there ended up being too many and then everyone wanted to take the taxi, not the tro-tro. The ride was quick but dusty and in the hour it took to reach the first village, I’d had my fill of the guides, who were rather relentless in their attempts to get us to sign up for more trips and hand over more money. By the end of the ride, I was physically and mentally exhausted, and it was only 1 p.m.! At the village – tiny and built of mud in a crevasse in the cliff – we had lunch with the other trekkers and finally, finally started walking late in the afternoon, our bags traveling onward without us while we hiked the 3-km to the next village. The walk was rather unexciting, in the sense that the scenery is so awesome it doesn’t really change much, but we did meet some lovely women who let Marian try carrying things on her head. Marian and Aureille seem to be like little hives of activity. When they’re not playing with children, they’re trying out this, that and the other thing with the adults. We are a rather motley crew, frankly, with the two dirty hippies and their games and cadeaux, the silent Anglophone blond and the limping guide.

We slept on the roof, a very cold experience that eventually forced me to get up and grab my towel just for warmth. I was up early to watch the sun rise, but it didn’t happen. There’s too much cloud and haze. In fact, the stars and moon couldn’t penetrate it and while the sun made things light, it was muted through the clouds. Soulemane finally woke he girls around 9.30 a.m. and after an hour they were finally ready to go out exploring. With them, it’s like every day is a fashion show, and even though they’re basically just rotating clothes – dirty ones at that – they spend inordinate amounts of time pulling out jewellery and trying on hats and things. We walked up into the Tellem houses high up in the falaise, homes and granaries that looked a lot like the structures of Arizona. Men were hauling up wood and water to make the structures, which Soulemane explained was mostly for tourists, since they’re so interested in seeing the structures. We poked our heads in the granaries and homes and watched them splat mud amongst the wood and stone foundations. The women wee off collecting water and pounding millet. We climbed up to an abandoned granary with a fetish of old rat and monkey skulls, then climbed higher to a smooth stone from look which we could see off into the distance past al the scrubby trees, bare baobabs, yellow strawgrass and into the hazy horizon which seemed to just drop off with the curvature of the earth. Along the way, Marion pounded millet, smoked a pipe and basically got into anything she could. Aureillie was also all over the show, even telling one child that based on her work with kids in Burkina, he had a mouth tumour that would prove fatal if left untreated. Back at the village she passed out medication (the kind that you take every day for 7 days) for a child with bleeding gums. I was left a little cold by it all. I’m still undecided about handing out anything and avoid it by not handing out anything. That afternoon, I stretched out for a nap while the girls painted, drew, wrote, played with kids, rode horses, and otherwise acted as though they’re on speed. Soulemane came over to tell me he’d hired a cattle cart to take us to the next village. I have to confess I was disappointed and initially figured his game leg was bothering him, so we would ride instead of walk. I swallowed it though and enjoyed the experience, of course. I wondered why all the other groups were packing up and heading off while we sat waiting and by the time Soulemane announced we could leave, it took the girls half an hour to pack up all their things and get them onto the cart. They’re so disorganized they remind me of Aunt Bonnie. Afterward, Soulemane told me he hired the cart because he’d already learned the girls couldn’t hike with any speed and were distracted by the smallest of things and seemed to by wholly unaware of his fervent desire to reach the next village with enough light left we could do laundry and take a shower. They ended up climbing off the cart anyway and walking into the village behind us.

Ende proved to be a gorgeous, slightly large and more touristy village than the ones surrounding it and the auberge had an actual shower (rigged up, of course. There is no electricity in the Dogon country) and great food. We ended up eating, playing cards and walking out under the stars. Soulemane was already pretty frustrated with the girls and he talked about going off for a walk and a smoke with just the two of us. Souleman smokes about three or four joints a day. I’m not sure if it’s related to his leg or what. But I’m really not interested in smoking with him and found it kind of uncomfortable how he was trying to get us alone whether that was really his intention, I don’t know. We ended up walking and I was tired, so when we stopped and Marion passed out while Aureille went off to make out with a Rasta guide who kept saying “Hakuna Matata. No worries,” I decided to head back with Yakuba. I headed straight for my mattress feeling exhausted but slightly guilty for leaving the girls, who slunk in in the wee hours and slept soundly until 10.30 a.m. when Soulemane finally woke them. We had breakfast and went for a walk to see the new museum. It was lovely, but nearly bare except for a few carvings and a little exposition on indigo cloth, the regional specialty, which is made with natural dyes and can contain several pattern types.

When we returned, Soulemane woke the girls, who took their time getting ready for a walk up the falaise. Between them, they had a half litre of cold water when we left. They spent several minutes with a camel and we finally made our ascent, a long and sweaty route of rocks and thorn bushes leading up through the divide in the falaise. The view was spectacular and we stopped for a while to watch three women – girls, really – work their way down into the valley from the plateau, with huge baskets of lettuce on their heads. It was pretty incredible and took only a couple minutes. We continued climbing up to the ridge, where the girls finished their water and sat down to draw. Alpha, our substitute guide – the climb up the cliff being too slippery and unstable for Soulemane and his crutch – was getting frustrated with all the stops and so was I frankly. I was hot and hungry and we were only halfway. Our descent was faster, mostly because the girls were running out of steam and I think they sense I was getting angry with the delays. The descent was quick but somewhat difficult and I was off-balance nearly the whole way into the valley. I marched right back to the auberge with Alpha while the girls played with the local kids. Half a litre of cold, cold water later, I was felt much better. We had a delicious lunch of macaroni and viande and then Soulemane gave us an hour and a half of free time and told us to be ready to walk 6-km to the next village. I passed out for about 45-mins. and slept as best the hot weather would let me, then got up for a walk and some picture-taking with Alpha, who took me to see his family, where I bought some indigo.

The town is full of typically Malian fabrics, with the rich browns, ochres and blacks, which are painted onto the white woven fabrics first with wax, then mud, then yellow, black and brown. Pretty interesting but relatively expensive. I’m really mindful right now not only of money but the weight of things. I knew the girls would not be ready, despite having a deadline, but Soulemane was prepared and had already arranged with Alpha that we would leave and Alpha would accompany they girls when they were ready, even if it was midnight. So Soulemane and I headed out for a very quiet 6-km walk. He was angry with the girls, despite having made arrangements. He knows they’re problematic, in fact, he said in 15 years of guiding, he’d never seen a pair so disorganized and so busy. I was feeling pretty sorry for them. Afterall, they’re only 19 and he was saying things like they’re dirty and unkempt, which is true, but still. But as we waited and the light faded and dinner arrived and still no girls. Soulemane got quieter and I got to feeling rather angry with them myself. At one point, I woke up and realized he was telling Marion to shape up and in the morning I thought it had made a difference, as Marion appeared to be up and moving, but no. It was still a good hour before they were ready, largely because again their stuff was everywhere and they’re pretty slow moving in the morning. Eventually we left for the village, a tiny thing clinging to the cliff. We weren’t in the village five minutes when we came across a tiny mosque and when Marion asked to enter. Soulemane stupidly said yes! And voila, there was an old harpie on our case yelling at Soulemane while the village children pointed at the French girls and ratted them out. I just stood by watching, knowing that they were entirely in the wrong. It’s amazing to me that these girls have lived in Burkina for five months but know nothing about Islam. No wonder they’re banning the hijab in their country, they don’t understand anything. What surprised me is that they didn’t apologize and when the kids pointed them out, Marion demanded to know what they were saying and acted as though she had been betrayed. Aureillie just slunk away.

By the time we left the village, two hours later, there were three Peace Corps volunteers from Mauritania waiting to enter. They asked if we were together and I found myself saying no, and explaining we were all doing 10 days, which is how we ended up together. I feel like it would have been better to go alone, although in some ways I am alone.

While we were walking yesterday I made the decision that I am definitely quitting my job. This – writing and traveling – is what I want to do and I’m not going to get to do it otherwise. I was thinking about Katherine out in Edmonton and Graeme on his way to Moscow when I realized they’ve both been working for less time and have gotten further. In five years at the Star, I’ve done nothing but move laterally and its well and truly time to start moving onward. So, I shall keep my eyes peeled for postings here in Africa and hopefully find something by the fall. A summer spent improving my French and my photography as well as building my bank account is what I really need. Scary decision. But the right one, I think.