Djenne and the Dogon Festival at Bankass

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I didn't go to Timbuktu! Everyone I spoke to said it was disappointing and it is a very long journey to get to from Mopti. Although the journey itself is the highlight. Instead I chose to go to Bankass, which is one of the bridgehead towns for the Dogon county. It was on my way towards the Burkino Faso border, and I thought that a Dogon Cultural Festival was more important and interesting than having a Timbucktoo stamp in my passport! This festival was the first ever Dogon Cultural Festival - it was a celebration of Dogon Culture for the Dogon people. I think there may be plans to make it an annual event, to celebrate and preserve the culture. Timbuktu was a very important and wealthy trading city centuries ago - but these days you are looking at faded glory. This time of year is also not the best time of year to make the 3 day journey by boat. We are way into the dry season and the River Niger is very low.



The rest of this blog is in Diary format. It leads on from the last blog, so on Monday 21st I was still in Severe.

MONDAY 21

I got up early and had breakfast at 7am. I walked into town. Before I got to the garage I met a couple of French men I had seen in Dogon country. They said there was no need to walk all the way in, as the bus stopped on the road. Within a few minutes a bus arrived. I was lucky! But, the coach stopped at a small village 30km's from Djenne and there I had to wait one and a half hours for the pick up to fill. We crossed a small river on a ferry in the pick up.



The only other incident was at the end of the journey. The pick up dropped us off in the middle of the market. There were a lot of people milling about the vehicle as it stopped. Some of them were very shabby looking.



As I was reaching for my bag, someone brushed past me - I recognised him, he was one of the passengers on the pick up. He though was smartly dressed.



He wasn't subtle, I felt him lift my wallet from my front pocket.



This wallet never holds much money, I use it for small amounts that I might need. I shouted as soon as the thief put his hand in my pocket and gave chase. So, did a crowd of people. The whole incident lasted less than a minute. I got the wallet back with everything in it.



After that I found a place to stay, a campement that charged 7500 CFA, with shared bathrooms. After lunch I walked around the Grande Marche and the town. Djenne is a major tourist destination, so their were a lot of touts to avoid! The centre of town is dominated by the Grande Mosque, which is the worlds largest mud brick building. Outside the mosque is the Grande Marche, which was very busy as it was market day. The city is an ancient trading city, and is probably much as it was in the 16th century.

Tuesday 22nd

I got up early and caught a pick up back to Severe. the journey was delayed by 2 flat tyres. There were 2 American aid workers in the bus, who were on holiday in Mali - they actually work in Guinea. They told me that when I found the hotel in Labe full, that would have been them! There had been a Peace Corps conference in Labe.



I got back to Severe at midday, had a long lunch and siesta, and went for a walk after 4pm. In the evening I ate in a restaurant and nightclub called Byblos.

WEDNESDAY 23rd

First thing in the morning I changed a few Euros cash in Severe. The bank took half an hour to do such a simple thing.



I then went to Mopti to look around. I treated myself to cakes. Whilst on my wanders I saw a French couple I had seen around several times before. I also bumped into one of the few English people I've met in West Africa. We had a beer, then he suggested we go and look at a really sleazy bar and hotel called Bar Mali. We took ages to find it - most people that Terry asked didn't want to admit they knew where it was! On asking someone? a group of kids no more than 10 years old insisted they knew where it was. We didn't think they should know! Terry said that this was one place that the lonely planet had got spot on, and I should read the description later.



So, here's the Lonely Planet entry under places to sleep.

"Hotel Bar Mali. A dark, grubby warren and hooker hangout, this place has a gothic charm and caricature sleaziness that makes it feel like a film set - unfortunately its not."

What the Lonely Planet doesn't mention is the smell of blocked toilets and damp, nor the interesting architectural feature of the bars on the windows!



So, we bought a couple of beers and sat down. It didn't take long for the hookers to appear. There were probably half a dozen of them desperate for custom. They were also the most forward and predatory women I've ever met. They were all over us - and didn't seem to understand the word no. They seemed to be from all over West Africa. Naturally, they instantly loved us! One of them, kept inviting me to her room, even putting the keys in my pocket and walking away. I was supposed to follow. I didn't. I took the keys out of my pocket and put them back on the table. I was not the least bit tempted.



This was the middle of the day, and they were only trying to earn a living. We were a potential meal ticket! It was an amusing was to spend a few hours, if a bit voyeuristic. I wouldn't want to sleep in that hotel, even if it is the cheapest Hotel in Mopti. Frankly, you would have to barricade your room to keep the hookers out!



At 5pm we paid for the drinks and left, having left the hookers sadly disappointed. I was asked where I was staying and I flatly refused to say. I didn't want them hanging around my hotel looking for me.



A sad thought is that many of them may not live that long. Although they are obviously very tough women well able to handle themselves. The woman that didn't want to leave me alone showed she had a temper. She got into an arguement with a Nigerian in the bar. I thought she was going to glass him. ( Note for anthropologists - to glass as a verb is a description of what it sounds like, in some Northern bars in England.) She was little but very tough. Despite that, I doubt that they always insist on condoms. When it comes to it, money talks. They need money, and life is short and cheap. Only 3%!o(MISSING)f people are aged over 60 in West Africa. Live for today, for tomorrow, you may die. So, we left Bar Mali with our dignity intact, and our trousers on!



I said goodbye to Terry and got a bus back to Severe. The bus broke down. After a few minutes everyone piled out and tried to hitch lifts back to Severe. When the bus finally moved again he had lost a third of his passengers. For once a bus wasn't too full!



I got into Severe at 6.30pm and returned to my hotel.

THURS 24 FEBRUARY

I walked to the garage. It was very windy and was blowing a lot of sand. At 9am I bought a ticket. At 9.15 the bus left! I arrived at Bankass at about midday. The town was deserted. People started arriving for the Dogon Festival at about 5pm. I had gone to Bankass in order to attend the Dogon Cultural Festival.

FRIDAY 25th

The day of the festival. I met a lot of people that I had seen on the road before, both travellers and Malians. I spent a lot of time speaking with an Irish woman Edna.



I went into town about 10am. I took some interesting photos. We had a long break in the middle of the day. I went back into town at 3pm. Watching the event I met 2 English people I had seen briefly before - Terry and Charlie. I spent the afternoon with them. At some point in the afternoon we retired to the bar. We returned to the festival to be charged at by horses. With the charging horses and the guns that were being discharged it was a wonder that no one was hurt.



I arranged a lift the following day with the person Charlie was travelling with, but the arrangements were very vague. At 7pm I returned to the campement.

FEB 26th

I spoke to the American Peace Corps man and woman that I had met on the bus from Djenne at breakfast. I again attended the festival. I couldn't find the people I was supposed to be hitching a lift with.



At lunch there was another Peace Corps volunteer at the campement, from Michigan, with her mother. I finally found out what the Peace Corps do!



In the afternoon there were horse races that I didn't attend. I gathered that it had been very dusty.



I found Charlie at 5pm, he confirmed everything was still on for 6pm. The lift was with one of the traders at the festival Boubacar Sidibe.



The van wasn't ready at 6pm. They had to find a battery!
We left at about 8pm. The roads were terrible - very bumpy and dusty. We all ended up covered in red dust.



We got to the Malian border at about 11.30 pm only for the border guard to demand 20000CFA. We refused to pay that much. Boubacar had been talking with the guard and couldn't get him to drop his price. So, Charlie and another passenger Luc tried. I don't know what they said, but it only seemed to enrage the guard. He rolled obstructions across the road and told us to come back in the morning.



Boubacar was not happy with this. He told us that he had only once before been asked for money at this border, and it was the same border guard. He wasn't prepared to let it drop. So, we returned to the Customs post we had just cleared and Boubacar complained. The customs post rang the guards boss and we drove to see the more senior policeman.



At first the senior policeman didn't seem to want to do anything till the morning. Maybe he didn't like going against one of his own. But he did relent, and gave us a letter to give to the border guard instructing him to let us through. We all thanked the policeman and returned to the border. This time we got through with no problems.



It was quite a drive to the next border post - the Burkino Faso side. I was worried because I hadn't bothered getting a Visa. I wasn't sure that the border guards would want to give me a transit visa in the middle of the night.

SUNDAY FEBRUARY 27

At about 2am on Sunday we arrived at the Burkino Faso border post. The border guard couldn't have been more different. He was very nice and issued my transit visa with no problems. We then had to drive to the customs post. This proved to be a problem. The official at the customs post refused to deal with us till his boss arrived in the morning. Our driver lacked proper documentation for a lot of the stuff he was carrying.



So, we had to try and sleep at the customs post. Finally the customs chief arrived and made an estimate of the value of the objects d'art.



We left the customs post at about 9.30 am. It was still a long way to our destination. We arrived at Ouagadou, the capital of Burkino Faso at 1pm. I was dropped at a telephone centre. I phoned a hotel, who told me that they had a room. One of the people in the telephone centre then gave me a lift on the back of his motorbike to the hotel.



I had a shower and hid from the sun till 4pm. I found out where to get a program for FESPACO from a French couple who were staying in the hotel. FESPACO is the Pan African Film Festival and Competition. I got myself a catalogue, and took it easy.

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Photos

Djenne
The mosque and the Monday market

Djenne - the Grande Mosque
This is the world's largest mud brick construction

Journey to Djenne
On the ferry

Bankass - Dogon Cultural Festival
Poster on the wall of the campement