Written on December 21, 2007, Lixborr Hotel, Benin City, Nigeria
I had to wait until I could look in the guidebook to continue catching up the story of my travels.
In Kumasi, I somehow made it the Fosua Hotel… ah, now I remember! I astonished some of the taxi drivers at the station by simply rolling my luggage past the VanefSTC bus station gate and onto the street to the hotel. When I arrived, the lift was out of order so a couple of guys helped me cart my luggage up the six flights, well maybe it was four flights, to the plush decay of the hotel lobby. The receptionist gave me a room at the far end of the building. I settled in for a shower and to relax a bit, but kept nearly jumping out of bed each time there was a large crashing sound in the ceiling. It took awhile to figure it out, but I finally realized large birds were landing on the thin aluminum roof at twilight making loud crashing sounds as they landed. Luckily, it didn’t last all night. I snuck out of the hotel to walk over to Vic Baboo’s Cafe for dinner. I got to order some reasonable Indian food. Although there were other travelers at the Cafe, as well as some locals, I barely talked with anyone and felt a bit conspicuous eating alone. I wandered back to the hotel and crashed out early.
The next morning, I ate breakfast in the room, then headed out to try to get a taxi to the National Cultural Center complex. Eventually, I caught a cab there. I arrived in front of a building where a ceremony involving lots of women was taking place. I asked a woman out front and she sent me over to the administration building where another woman pointed me to the women-run craft center. I bought an Akweba wood carving that is a fertility charm.
Then, I walked over to the Prempeh II Museum which contains a lot of history about the Ashanti people and particularly that king, including some talking drums, the slit drum style. After the museum, I walked over to the Okomfo Anokye Teaching Hospital where, in the courtyard near the hospital, a small museum houses a sword which has been in the ground for three centuries. According to legend, an Ashanti sorcerer drew the Golden Stool from the sky at this place. If anyone succeeds in pulling out the sword, the legend goes, the Ashanti kingdom will collapse.
Walking back from the hospital after unsuccessfully trying to negotiate a taxi, I met a nice fellow along the way who was on his day off from a job within the diamond industry.
We stopped for a drink on the way and he invited me back to his place to meet his family, but I went back to the hotel instead. I ate lunch at a restaurant one floor below the hotel, during which I conversed with a fellow from Holland(?) off to meet some friends he had met on the Internet. I was a bit worried for him, but he didn’t seem concerned.
I stayed at a nice hotel on top of a hill called the Prospect Lodge. I met a nice guy on the bus named ???. Ghana overall has much less litter than the other West African countries I’ve visited so far, due to a government campaign to get people to dispose of litter properly along with the trash pickup at least in major cities like Accra.
Cape Coast has a main street. I walked from the hotel past a statue of a crab down to the port area and then past a lagoon in search of a vegetarian restaurant called Assase Pa currently closed for renovation. Instead I ended up at the Castle Restaurant where I ate redred, a bean dish.
It was a dark and somewhat stormy night, at least in the sense of rough seas. A guy wandering on the beach, saw me and came in to sit by me in the restaurant. By now, I’ve grown suspicious of most unsolicited encounters and I was right to be suspicious of this one. After awhile, he made his pitch for 2 cedis, i.e. more than US$2! I just told him “no” and he wandered off. I walked back to the hotel to find the jeans I’d washed already quite stinky with a mold or something from the moisture.
The following day I headed off to Elmina to visit the slave fort there. On a nearby hill is Fort St. Jago (first picture below).
Then I returned to Cape Coast to visit another slave fort, where i met some friendly travelers.
The forts are quite understandably run-down yet the history of slavery there is quite palpable, the horrific role of the colonizers as inescapable as the slave forts themselves. The museums, especially at Cape Coast, were also impressive.
It was a total drama getting the taxi driver to find the Millennium Guest House, located in a well-known cathedral compound, but perhaps it is a game the drivers play to try to get paid more. I am beginning to wonder, since it happened quite often.
I had to wake the security guy at the hotel to enter, since the flight had arrived quite late and my baggage search took awhile. But finally I succeeded in laying down my head to rest on the comfortable bed in the modest room furnished with a bible, a TV, and a glow-in-the-dark Jesus, as well as a much-appreciated air conditioner and a shared bath/shower.
The next morning, I visited the National Museum, a short walk from the guesthouse. The woman taking tickets at the front entrance helped me buy a SIM card even though it was Sunday. I met a Czech guy working in Belgium who was on a trip related to encouraging and financing sport events on behalf of the European Union. Michal Krejza and I finished at the museum by trying to locate the linguists’ staffs.
The museum had excellent exhibits from a variety of west African countries, as well as a section on the slave trade, but I couldn’t find the linguist staffs mentioned in the guidebook. Turns out the staffs got entombed inside a wall when one other exhibit was updated, so it wasn’t possible to see them.
I found the 13th to 19th century figures from Komaland (pictured below) especially intriguing.
Michal and I walked past banks where I tried to withdraw cash using Visa cards at ATMs without success. We made it to the Kwame Nkrumah memorial and museum which was very interesting. Nkrumah, the first president of the first colonial African country to gain its independence, was a pan-Africanist and published some rather radical books. Perhaps that is why a military coup toppled his government and sent him into exile in Guinée. He married an Egyptian woman and both of their remains are now at the memorial.
Next we walked, then taxi’ed to the lighthouse near the Fort James shanty town. Michal bargained for us to enter at half the price the little girl who met us had demanded, then an adult man led us past the ancient generator and the rusting spiral staircase to where the light once shone and will apparently shine again if a planned renovation takes place. I was terrified by the rickety ladder to the top and the minimalist railing, although the view was impressive. I descended before the guy had a chance to also ask me for more money, although he couldn’t resist once we were getting back into our taxi.
I purchased a half dozen oranges for about 20 cents. We tried to eat lunch at a place closed on Sunday, as was the second place we tried, so finally we ended up at the Hotel Paloma Restaurant, where I tried palaver, a traditional dish of spinach and other vegetables and spices. It was delicious, even though I discovered a fish bone in it. We went our separate ways after a delightful discussion, including the topic of the white slave trade. I crashed at the hotel and left the next morning for the Nigerian High Commission office where I successfully applied for a visa after keeping a taxi on hir to go get photocopies. It wasn’t easy, but they accepted the application with a US$100 fee and I then left for a two-day trip to Cape Coast.
I boarded the Air Senegal flight in Bamako worried because it left late for Abidjan. That meant that I and several other guys missed our onward flight to Accra on Air Emirates. The following Emirates flight to Accra was in two days! So I opted to purchase an Air Ivoire ticket (because they wouldn’t accept the Emirates ticket) and to seek a refund for the Emirates flight later on. I ended up spending the night on Air Senegal’s dime at the airport hotel in Abidjan. The Abidjan airport is quite nice and modern. I met a couple of women there, as well as a creepy guy who tried to scam me as I was eating my dinner, also paid by Air Senegal, as was breakfast the next morning. I actually managed to get a lot of work done on the book since I had no distractions in the airport hotel, then during the eight hours after checking out and before the departure of the Air Ivoire flight.
I felt quite triumphant boarding that flight, despite a nasty airline employee who told me that the yellow rice sack I used to carry my excess luggage was not aesthetique (esthetic). She forced me to pay to have the sack wrapped in plastic and check it in rather than carry it on. OK, so I finally arrived in Accra and — guess what? — my bag checked in at Bamako hadn’t made it to Accra, despite several possible flights on which it could be sent.
After getting the runaround between three different lost luggage counters, I managed to file a report. I also noted the sign on the way to baggage claim that said (paraphrased): “Pedophiles and other sexual deviants are not welcome in Ghana. If you have come here to engage in such activities, please leave.” I felt warm and welcome all over, especially since I had heard recently from Andre about the Ghana government arresting a British citizen who was found with pictures of him having sex with a man in Ghana — who was apparently also arrested. The more I think about it, the more it seems like a sting operation or an attempt at extortion. This, and a prior incident in Dakar left me feeling not at all sexy, and I remained that way, except for fantasies about foreign travellers, even until today.
After Pays Dogon, I managed to get back to Bamako in reasonably good shape. I stayed a couple of nights at the marvelous Hotel Djenné, created by the former minister of tourism who had a great idea when she invited artists to decorate the place. On the bus ride there, I met a Dutch woman and her French traveling companion who was working on developing schools for young women in Mali. I met some other travelers over breakfast. O, and the first evening, I went to pick up the package I had left at Hotel Yamey and to try to visit Damien, the French guy working at his father’s restaurant, the Café du Fleuve. Unfortunately, he wasn’t around so I returned to the northern side of town to eat at the Restaurant San Toro, also owned by the former minister of tourism.
As a single person, I felt very conspicuous when I entered the restaurant, especially when they had no place for me, but after awhile of sitting and listening to a man playing the kora, I got into the spirit of the place and they eventually served me delicious juices and a vegetarian platter. I was craving good food after weeks in the “brousse” (countryside). Better nourished, and after a walk and a stop at the somewhat seedy cafe where I saw a transvestite, I returned to the hotel and slept well. I had tried to treat Samuel Sidibe and a professor friend of his to lunch, but he was busy, so I just stopped by to pick up the conference proceedings he had obtained for me. They included a griot’s account of the history of the Mali Empire, a crucial contribution to my book.
I spent the rest of the day trying to get a flight in January from Timbuktu to Bamako and managed only to confirm my place on the waiting list. That evening I again tried meeting Damien at the Cafe du Fleuve and instead ended up sharing a delicious meal with a Dutch fellow Michiel and a female friend of his, also Dutch, Lisa Winnen. They were very kind of me and my spirits revived considerably in preparation for my trip to Accra.
Written on November 27, 2007, Sevaré Motel, Sevaré near Mopti, Mali
The rest of the trip from Mauritania down to Djenné in Mali on November 22 and 23 was quite difficult. The first stage from Nema to Adel Bagrou wasn’t a very good road, although not as bad as the road from Nema to Oualata. At Adel Bagrou, I switched to another vehicle and we crossed the border at night. I was careful to make sure the Mauritanian border control stamped my passport on departure and the Malian border control stamped it on my second entry to Mali.
Arriving at night at Nara, some guys sitting near the garage got a local guy who works at the radio station in town to come by and show me a room he rents out. The room was filthy and had no running water. I took it anyway because I knew I’d be leaving the next morning. I went back to the street to have a kind of scrambled eggs made on a little gas stove while I sat drinking an apple juice on a wooden bench near the marketplace.
After a rough night and a tough morning, I had a great experience here in Nara. The rough night was because I stayed in a filthy room with no running water and didn’t adjust my mosquito net properly until after the muezzin calls in the morning. The tough morning was after I checked out of the hotel thinking I would be able to get on a truck for Selegou at 9:30am and make it to Niono by this evening and Djenné by tomorrow. Now, it looks like the truck won’t leave until 2:30pm or later. The truck driver named Lasana has a father, a retired teacher, who took pity on me and invited me to the family compound where about 40 people live. Such wonderful hospitality was a great antidote to the travails of travel. I even learned that they are Sonninké people descended from those of the Wagadu empire. Lasana has a twin brother named Fusiné. Here are some more details…
I broke out the mosquito net to crash out early. I didn’t get it adjusted properly until early the next morning. I soon remembered that it doesn’t do much good unless the net is always a bit away from one’s body; otherwise, the damn mosquitoes can sting you through the net! Later that morning, I tried for a vehicle all the way to Niono, but could only find one that would go to Sokolo. I asked when the vehicle would leave and the head of the driver’s syndicate told me it would leave in about an hour and a half at 9:30am. So, I told him I’d go back and bring my bags over. On the way back to the hotel, I tried to change my Mauritanian ougiyas at a reasonable rate with several different moneychangers. The best rate I could find was 16,667 CFA for my 9,000 ougiyas, when the amount should have been around 18,000 CFA. O well. Next, I bought some drinks, then checked out of the hotel and dragged my bags over to the first vehicle destined for Sokolo. I waited around for quite awhile, buying a coffee and a couple loaves of bread, then found out that the vehicle wouldn’t leave until at least 2:30pm. Fortunately, the father of one of the syndicate driver’s saw me chatting with a former colleague of his, both of them retired teachers, and decided to invite me back to his place for lunch. His son the driver brought me over. I had to explain before going about my vegetarianism, but the family seemed quite accommodating about it. I enjoyed visiting the family compound where about 40 people live. I got to eat couscous with milk and sugar, instead of the couscous with meat and sauce that everyone else ate. We talked a bit and he mentioned that the family is Sonninké and that they are descendants of the residents of the empire of Wagadu. After lunch, the son walked me back to the family’s rice and flour shop to wait until the vehicle would be ready. We drank tea and chatted a lot.
Finally, the truck was ready to go around 4:30pm or later, and we left. I’m glad I got to visit the family.
The unfortunate result however was that I got stuck overnighting at the syndicat in Sokolo, a mostly outdoor place right next to the dirt yard where the vehicles gather to take on or drop off passengers (see last pic above). In the syndicat, people were sleeping on mats. At first I was a bit afraid, but there was a guardian (shown in the pic) there who kept and eye out for everyone and their stuff.
Early the next morning, I got on a vehicle to Niono where I ate lunch and bought a bottle of mineral water.
Then, I headed on in another vehicle to Massina.
At Massina, I encountered the River Niger in full force, including fish and large boats in the small but bustling river port.
I paid 2000 CFA to cross the Niger River in a pirogue that was taking on water. I’m sure I would have paid much less had I waited a few minutes more to cross on the usual passenger boat, constructed by strapped two pirogues together.
When I reached the sand beach on the other side of the river, there was no public transport in site. A kind truck driver offered me a ride to the villages of Souléi then Say.
In Say, guys sitting by the road greeted me with tasty watermelon. Walking over to the other side of town with a local guy’s help for my large bag, I chatted with the town’s mayor for quite awhile while reclining in wood slat chairs and drinking tea. A car came by around 9pm and took me on to a small town that was called Matabou (I think).When I arrived in that town, the vehicle I arrived in had problems and the only other vehicle that wasn’t a motorcycle was sitting unoccupied right next to it. So, I almost decided to crash for night, but I remembered I had told Chicago, my prospective guide, that we should go that day. Finally, with the assistance of a guy who worked the telephone call box and a clothing stylist in town, I managed to reach Chicago on the phone and he negotiated to send a taxi to me, also rough going. He showed up in the taxi, which ended up costing me a whopping $80+. I checked in to the Campement de Djenné hotel around 1:30am and didn’t get to sleep until after I completed a shower around 3am. Chicago and I had agreed to meet each other at 10:30am.
I actually managed to wake up on time despite incredible fatigue from the journey. Over breakfast, I realized I had done something stupid. Chicago had quoted me a price by email for a trip to the Dogon country. I mistakenly thought he had quoted around US$50 per day when it was actually US$500 per day. That explained why he showed up in Djenné three days before our scheduled departure date. Over breakfast at Ali Babu’s place nearby, I told him that I had made a big mistake and apologized. I said there was no way I could afford to pay anything like what he was seeking and offered to compensate him for his trip from Timbuktu instead. He tried proposing some other pricing which was still way too high for me. Finally, he asked what I could afford. I told him around US$50 per day. He obviously really wanted to make the trip work, and of course had offered a highly inflated initial price, so we actually managed to come to an agreement that worked for both of us.
That day, I saw the old mosque at Jenné and a tour of that old city.
Next, we went to the museum at the even older town of Jenne-Jeno.
I managed a visit to the site of the archaeological dig that McIntosh had directed at Jenne-Jano as well. Chicago was kind enough to return on foot to arrange our transport on to the Dogon country while I got a ride with a museum attendant and archaeologist to the ancient city on the back of his motorcycle. As a student, he had participated in the excavation of the site and planned to participate again when McIntosh returns next year. The site seemed possibly as large as Koumbi Salah and had lots of pottery shards and iron ore castoffs.
In one spot, a stream had eroded the earth surrounding a vase buried under the sand, so you could see one whole side of the vase while it was still fully buried on the other side (picture just above). The ceramic vases were apparently used for a variety of purposes, such as for food storage. When used to hide treasure, vases were layered inside one another. Funerary vases (including those in the last few pictures from the museum above) had a hole intentionally poked in the bottom of the vase so it was clear the vase wasn’t used for a ‘practical’ purpose. I was struck by the thought of the discovery at Jenne of the seemingly Indian-style statue I had seen at the Musée Nationale du Mali in Bamako.
As soon as the museum curator got me back onto the main road, Chicago, the taxi driver, and another passenger picked me up in the taxi and off we went to Dogon country. The first stop along the way was at a Niger River crossing. Chicago didn’t stop three teenage women from surrounding me up against the taxi to sell their wares. Finally, I got it across to them I wasn’t interested, so I got to wander around the riverside a bit while waiting for the car ferry to show up from the other side of the river.
We spotted a young hippo near the other side of the river, and when we finally made it across, the hippo lifted himself out of the water and turned around so we could see him really well. Apparently it’s not a common site because the local people were quite excited by it as well.
The taxi took us to the garage at Bandiagara where we shifted over almost immediately to a vehicle that was already full of people, including four Mali Peace Corps volunteers. So, even though two of the female Peace Corps volunteers were squished very tightly along with Chicago and myself into a back seat meant for two passengers, we made interesting conversation along the way. At Bandiagara, Chicago and I shifted into a taxi to get the rest of the way to Dogon country. Someone, perhaps a friend of Chicago’s offered me to buy some cola for the elders at the first Dogon village, but I though he meant Coca-Cola and decided I didn’t want to offer that as a gift. I later found out he meant cola nuts, which the elder Dogons love to chew. I had trouble purchasing bottles of water from the same guy because he tried to charge me a higher price for cold water than tepid water. I got annoyed and gave him the money telling him to bring me the hottest bottles of water he had. He ended up bringing some fairly cool ones for the lower price. It was lucky I got those water bottles at 500 CFA because the water bottles once at the Dogon villages went up to 1000 CFA.
I enjoyed Mr. Moulay’s tour of the interior of Oualata homes. The alcoves in Oualata have a unique shape. Traditional families often have staffs mounted to use to hang objects in their homes.
Mr. Moulay showed me the door of the mayor’s house in Oualata, at an old entrance of the city. We entered the library for a look at the painted interior with those uniquely shaped alcoves and, of course, the incredible book collection.
Next to the library was a museum of traditional objects of Oualata.
Written on November 18, 2007, Hotel de l’Amitié, Oualata, Mauritania
I slept on a mattress in the hotel courtyard under the crescent moon and the stars. The sounds are mostly the bleating of cattle and the chirping of birds with occasional human songs or chants as well. This magical place has already made its way into my novel. Aside from a few details, like plastic bottles, one has the impression of living centuries ago.
The walls of the hotel are a lush red-brown clay which contrasts spectacularly with the light sand of the hotel compound floor. Artisans here etch designs into the walls and paint them, yet each year the rains wash some of their work away, so each year they repair and renovate their dwellings and so continues the cycle of the seasons here in Oualata.
I was so stressed and exhausted, I took one day completely off yesterday, except for my writing. I might as well have done so, because it was Saturday and today is Sunday, so the only site I can see today is the old city. The library and the painted houses are open tomorrow and Mr. Moulay will give me a tour of the houses so I can see their painted interiors.
Yesterday, the woman who I assume is Mr. Moulay’s wife showed me how one of her boys has a bad burn from boiling tea water on his arm. I gave her some medicines to try to help him heal more quickly and to relieve the pain. Apparently, he slept much better last night than he has for the last eight nights, so we are all happier today.
Mr. Moulay just told me that some Americans are arriving today from Nema, which may mean that Brooke, one of the Peace Corps volunteers from Ayoun and perhaps some others are on the way here.
The interview with Samuel Sidibe, Director of the Musee Nationale du Mali, went very well. He was kind enough to provide me with references to the oral history of the griots, or traditional storytellers of West Africa, including back to the times of the great empires of Wagadu (Ghana), Mali, and Songhay.
After the interview at the museum, I wandered around town to accomplish chores like getting a SIM card for my phone to work in Mali.
I walked all the way to the fetish market by the Grand Mosque, where I purchased a white crystal thought to help with stomach and intestinal ailments to give to Travis back in San Francisco. I went to a Marche Artisanal where artists were selling musical instruments, statues, paintings, and clothing. I purchased a small shirt and pant set for my nephew Zachary… I hope it will fit! Finally, I visited the main post office to inquire about sending my printed materials back to San Francisco. This time the price was even crazier — more than US$200! So it looks like I will be lugging the stuff around with me for awhile.
After a shower at the hotel, I went for dinner at Appaloosa. There I met a very intelligent and admirable woman from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Washington, DC. She is conducting a study here in Mali on malaria in infants. I was amazed by her dedication to saving lives and she told me some sad stories about how many children are dying here. She also explained in more detail about malaria works… apparently, the parasite from mosquito bites invades the liver and stays there until it transforms into something that goes into the blood stream. At that point is where the medications like Malarone and others attack the disease, not in the liver itself. That’s why it’s necessary to continue taking the medication for some time after leaving a malaria zone, so that all the disease that passes out of the liver gets clobbered in a blood supply well stocked with the medication. It’s also why it’s so important to make sure to take every done of the medication. Even she, an infectious disease expert, forgot to take her pill for one or two days and ended up with a case of malaria, the symptoms being fatigue and nausea without vomiting, among others. After grossing me out a bit with the malaria discussion, she invited me over to the Restaurant du Fleuve for an ice cream sundae. I had been afraid to eat ice cream here, but she assured me it would be not only safe but really yummy and she was right! The chocolate sauce was especially good.
After checking in the evening before to the Hotel Yamey and eating dinner at the Apaloosa bar and restaurant next door, where the waiters were dressed like cowboys, I slept well. My main meeting wouldn’t happen until November 10.
So, on November 9, I visited the Musee Nationale du Mali in preparation for the meeting with its director on November 10.
The museum is excellent. I first wandered past an outdoor sculpture of a typical Malian bus into an art exhibition where hundreds of children scrambled around the museum hall interacting with some amazing art.
The other main hall of the museum contains its permanent exhibits about Ancient Mali, Ritual Art, and Textiles. I took lots of notes because pictures weren’t permitted, and I bought a few postcards documenting the key artifacts in the museum, such as the Dogon “Thinker” statue with snakes all over his body, the almost East-Indian-style statue of a reclining man, and the ancient textiles with interesting patterns from the people inhabiting the Dogon region before the Dogon themselves arrived.
In the garden on the way out of the museum, I saw a variety of models of famous buildings in Mali, particularly of the mosque at Jenne-Jeno, and the waterfall at the entrance once again.
Notes on National Museuem in Bamako:
A great museum! (in three parts)
ANCIENT MALI–
Tellem — in rock escarpments of Bandiagara, people who lived from 11th to 16th century, Dogon people found them there, textiles are among oldest found in Africa, also leather, wood, and metal artifacts found in sepulchral grottos
Before the Tellem came the “Toloy phase”, 3rd to 2nd century BCE, grotto A with round elevated constructions, architectural elements also appear in Ireli and Bongo villages
Neck rests found in grotto of Sanga, 11th to 14th century CE, made from wood or iron, some with geometrical patterns
Leather boot with geometrical designs, Tellem, Songa
Cache sexe, leather hem with twisted strands, presumably to cover genitals
Belt of leather strands, approximately ten
Bracelets, metal, some thin, some thick, some with twisted pattern
Pottery, “vannerie”, and “Fécipient (Récipient) en calabasse”, Tellem, Sanga, 11th – 15th centuries CE
Grotto P
Round and oval constructions from 11th – 12th centuries CE
Rectangular constructions from 13th – 14th centuries CE for living quarters
Grenier? = granaries(?)
Bankoni, Bamako, statuette, clay, long face, head tilted back, tongue sticking out a little, Szumowski found in 1954 in a pseudo-tumulus
Sirakorola, Koulikoro region, ceramic bottles with spherical containers and cylindrical necks, found in vast necropolis, the necks sometimes chopped off before the ceramics baked, heads on the necks include: cow, ram, cock, bird, lamb, and human
==> Oueyanko, west of Bamako, phalliform object, Szumowski found in 1954 in a pseudo-tumulus (see drawing in journal)
Fakola, Bougouni region, tortoise in clay, and a quadruped in clay
Probably southern Mali: two clay statuettes, region with relatively more rainfall, dense vegetation and forests sites such as Magnambougou, Kouroukorokalé, Fanfannyégéné rock opening
Tongo Maaré Diabel (the dune “au jujubier”) is one of the oldest cities studied in Mali, three kilometers north of Douentza between Bandiagara and “les falaises” (escarpments) of Dyoudé, 5th – 13th century CE, agricultural society, “le mil” = millet(?), rarised cows, sheep, and goats, also had blacksmiths, commercial relations with Berbers to the north — found semiprecious stones “coralines” and “amazonites”, transaharan commerce starting in 10th century when glass appears, many pottery vases discovered there, a horse rider statue in clay from 9th – 11th century
Natamatao site: iron tools, including disk, “poinçon”, “enclumes”, axe, “marteau” associated with “scories”, clay statues of quadrupeds, probably ram and lamb
Waganzana site near Thial, same period as Natamatao, statue fragments
Natamatao is six kilometers from village of Thial (Tenenkou (or Tenemkou?) circle), human figure with horse head, also found skeletons painted in red ocher, so probably funerary site, clay head statue probably from top of a vase, very different style
==> Djenné, probably 13th – 15th century CE, statuette of a man seated with head rested on arms crossed on knees, covered with serpents
Natamatao, Thial:
Vase decorated with serpents (similar to Dejenné but different due to large opening)
Stops to put in tops of vases
Vase with geometric pattern
Djenné Djéno, 13th century, three kilometers from Djenné
==> Stylized clay statue of male figure wearing necklaces, serpent ring on right bicep, two bracelets above right elbow, one on right wrist, two bracelets on left wrist, possibly dagger in sheath on left bicep, headless, wearing “cache sexe”
Bust
Djenné Djéno founded in 3rd century BCE, surrounded by a wall two kilometers in length, population 10,000 – 26,000, long-distance commerce, objects of Roman origin found, copper and flass beads, socles de fer, fusables -> tissage, abandoned by 14th century, probably due to domination of Islam in the region
Statuettes with “boutons” from 13th century
Mopti
Clay mask
Globular vases decorated with serpents, clay
“Pied de lit”, clay, origin Kami
Djenné Djéno
LARGE vase “caréné”, 600-900 CE, clay
LARGE funerary jar, clay, tradition of either putting bones of entire body in jar, pierced the
bottom on purpose to signify funerary function
Gao, Sané necropolis, funerary stela from 12th – 13th century, written in Andalusian/Maghrebian style characters
Tomboutou (Timbuktu)
Vases, clay
Bottles, clay
Hematite “polissoir” to test quality of gold
(Imported?) glass fragments
Alabaster window
Small vase (inkwell?)
Copper (coins?)
Iron knife blade
Variety of beads, including wooden ones
Bed supports
Sites at Kawinza, Mouyassan, and Toubal (near Sumpi)
Rice and millet cultures
Fishery
RITUAL ART–
Dogon statue of primordial couple — origin myth of eight lineages, wood
Dogon statue of Nommo, master of water, life, speech, and fecundity, arms attached to something over head, wood, first being created by Amma
Dogon statue of four first ancestors, wood
Gwandusu, Bamanan, Baninko circle of Dioila, statue of maternity or paternity, wood
Ntomo (Notomokun) masks, Banaman, Ségou region, Ntomo society for children aka Cèbilenkè (Beledugu) and Bilakorojo (Birgo and Baninko), number of horns indicates sex of mask: male (3 or 6), female (4 or 8 ), androgynous (2, 5, 7, or 9), often covered with cowries and red seeds or berries, “la discretion” of the mouth -> control over speech, important in those societies
Bamanan, Diolila region, hyena masks, wood
Do mask, Boo, wood
Cimiero — for dancing (Ciwarakun), Bamanan
Senoufo statue slave, “Tabitière des captifs”, hunched over, carrying bowl with cover that has monkey on top, wood
Sogow or marionette, Ségou villages, Kamelan ton associations organize Sogo Bwo animal dances also theater for educational purposes, festival of masks and marionettes (FESMAMA)
Dogon — toguna pillar, wood, feminine figure accentuating breasts and vagina without facial detail
Peul — gold pendant (dola)
Cimier for dance, Ngosonkun, Bamanam, Koulikoro region, wood
Boo, feminine statue Hanbé, for protection of village, wood, long tall, looks like mohawk on head
Senoufo, feminine figure (debele) associated with male figure, ritual scarification, primordial couple
Dogon, Satimé mask, wood and paint
Dogon, multistory house mask, very tall, painted wood
Dogon, Kanaga mask, arms above head, two hands pointed up above two hands pointed down, painted wood and fiber
Dama mourning ritual
Kono (konokun) mask, Bamanan, wood, horns, blood sacrifice of animals
Senoufo, Janus mask (Kponiougo), wood
TEXTILES–
carbon dating from 10th – 13th centuries CE
Peul migrations introduced textile fabrication around 9th century CE
Tilbi — cotton or silk garment signifying high status, Djenné or Tombouctou (Timbuktu)
Bogolan technique for dying cloth
Hunter shirts, example with mirrors, beads, fabric strands, amulets to protect from nyama, always brown and yellow, never indigo (representing nature, not village)
Protective garment “sigi (or sugi?) doki” with text and geometrical designs and amulets wrapped and sewn on
The Peul griots are also wool fabric artisans, they are called Maabo, plural Maabuube, their wives are traditionally potters. The Maabuube are similar in importance to the blacksmiths of the Manding called Numu, whose wives are also potters, located in “boucle du Niger”, Niger River flood plain, wool provides protection against cold and mosquitoes
Peul arkille fabric, often very long, used for nuptial bed, symbol of marriage
Kaasa — another garment formerly worth more than a sheep
Tellem textiles, Sangha, Bandiagara, ancient people who arrived in Dogon country at the weakening of the Ghana empire in the 11th century (Dogons arrived in 14th century)
Tellem textiles included important symbolism, not just pretty designs, no method of fabrication found with other artifacts, so may be imported (?), tunics from 10th – 12th centuries, lots of indigo color, écharpe = ?, strange red designs (see drawing in journal), striped indigo-white cap cotton, another with vertical triangular stripes to the top center
