Hiking in Dogon Country

Africa » Mali » Dogon Country
July 27th 2007

Published: August 5th 2007

In early July I took a four-day trip to Mali with Omar, Christine, Will, and Rhadika. From Ouaga we took a bus north to Ouahigouya, where we piled into a van-sized bush taxi headed to Koro, Mali. North of Ouahigouya the paved road gave way to dirt and the landscape became progressively drier, the vegetation more sparse. The three boarder checkpoints consisted of small cement buildings and/or thatch shade huts along 20 km of road that may belong to Burkina or Mali. For more than a half hour of travel time the stamps in our passports indicated that we had left Burkina but had not yet entered Mali.

We entered Mali with little hassle (already had a visa) and it only took another hour to get to Koro. We had come up to see Dogon Country, and in Koro we met up with Oumar, the highly-recommended guide who would lead us there.

“Dogon Country” refers to a series of ancient villages along the Bandiagara Escarpment in southern Mali. The Dogon people settled in the region during the 14th or 15th century, fleeing the spread of Islam in favor of traditional animist beliefs. They built their original villages into the cliff face for protection, sometimes halfway up the 300m escarpment. Reaching these villages required a scrambling over broken rocks or climbing vines that no longer grow in the increasingly dry climate. The people have since moved their villages onto the plain where farming is easier, but the mud-brick buildings of the original villages still stand. Faithful to their traditional religions, the people still return to the original villages for ceremonies and still bury their (important) dead in high rocky alcoves.

Many modern Dogon are practicing Muslims, and in many villages an elaborate mud mosque is the town’s most striking feature. But practicing Islam does not prevent the Dogon from practicing animism as well. Ancient traditions are still very much alive in these isolated villages. Mask dances and animal sacrifices occur regularly. It is common knowledge that evil sorcerers live among the villagers, that spirits haunt certain streams and will kill any foreigners who touch the water, that local witch doctors can cure many illnesses but are often devious, and that important members of the community are periodically flown up into the cliffs by ancestral spirits. These and other wondrous phenomena are described with complete seriousness by modern, educated Dogon. It’s as if Islam is religion while animism is fact, the simple reality of nature that has always been true.

From Koro we chartered a small bush taxi that took us through the town of Bankass and across a stretch of farmland to the base of the cliffs. It was mid-afternoon when we started hiking northeast from Kani Kombele, following the escarpment. We crossed several kilometers of farmland, exchanging greetings with the occasional local farmer traveling by camel.

The first village we came across was Teli. As with other Dogon villages, it was completely built of well-maintained mud buildings, often with interesting architecture and elaborately-carved wooden doors. These buildings receive a fresh covering of mud every year, keeping them tidy and charming unlike the crumbling walls seen elsewhere. This modern village was spread out on the plain directly below the ancient village nestled in the cliffs.

This ancient village was built by the Tellem people, who lived in this area before the Dogon. They are often reported to have been pygmies because of the small size of the buildings that remain here. However, these buildings, which appeared to early explorers to be houses, were actually just storage containers for grain. According to our guide, the people lived in thatch houses lower on the cliffs; the thatch houses just don’t survive the centuries as well as the brick granaries. Misunderstood, the Tellem people went down in history as midgets.

Oumar led us up a rough path of broken rocks to the old Tellem ruins. Among the granaries were small flattened areas once occupied by thatch houses or small gardens. He led us beyond the edge of the village to where there were small square openings in the rock - Tellem graves dating back to the 11th century. Ancient bones were visible just inside. Knowing that it is respectful to ask before taking pictures, we checked with our guide. He said, “Oh, yeah, these are Tellem graves, not Dogon. You can reach in and touch them if you want.” Apparently we don’t have to fear the spirits of the people who aren’t there anymore.

It was getting late and we had to climb down from the ruins as the sun set behind the falaise. When squeezing through narrow passages as it got dark, Oumar told us to clap as we walked. Some ancient tradition? No, it was to scare the snakes away.

We left Teli and hiked a few more kilometers in the dark to Ende, Oumar’s village. There we stayed at a small campement, a mud compound with a few rooms for travelers. Though built recently to accommodate tourists, the campement was built in the traditional style - square rooms with mud walls and flat roofs. The rooms are really only used when it rains, since it’s often too hot to sleep inside. We dragged mattresses and mosquito nets up onto the roofs and slept under the stars.

We woke up shortly after dawn to a remarkable view of the mud rooftops of Ende. After breakfast Oumar took us to the courtyard where he grew up. It was a small, walled-in area that enclosed a house, several granaries, a chicken shack, and a cooking area. His aged mother and father invited us in and graciously showed us around.

Next we visited the village mosque, which resembled an elaborate, life-sized sand castle. We saw the main togu na, a low, open air sitting area found in every Dogon village. The togu na has eight carved wooden pillars supporting a millet thatch roof. This “house of words” is where village men relax and have discussions. The roof is high enough to sit under, but not high enough for standing or fighting should discussions become too intense.

Near the togu na was a generous display of local art - wood carvings, jewelry, woven cotton cloth dyed or painted in earth tones, all for sale to tourists. We were led to a woman boiling a cauldron full of blue liquid - indigo dye that the region is known for. We bought some indigo scarves before continuing along the trail toward Yabatalou, wanting to cover the 8 km walk before it got too hot.

As we left the village we passed a recently-constructed stone schoolyard, beautifully made from the pinkish-white rocks that lie at the bottom of the cliffs. Though the effect of tourism on local culture is disconcerting, the new schools are one of the positive effects of tourist money. Perhaps to keep the tourists coming, the villages in Dogon Country are kept very clean and traditional-looking. They are decorated with local art and kept amazingly free of Coke signs and other modern icons.

Along the trail, it wasn’t long before we were met by the notorious local children, who are sufficiently accustomed to tourists to expect presents. “Ca va, le bonbon?” “Je demand bic.” “Donne-moi cadeau.” I don’t know what idiot went through here years ago passing out candy and pens, but now all of the local children expect, and demand, such gifts from all foreigners passing through. Seeing children in such poverty, it is tempting for a westerner to cave in to their pleas, but experts actually advise against it. Candy causes cavities; children here don’t often brush their teeth and don’t have access to dental care. Pens and paper are given out at local schools. Handing over other exciting gifts encourages many children to drop out of school to beg full-time.

We arrived in Yabatalou around eleven and lunch at another campement. We relaxed in the shade for a few hours until the sun became less intense, than began hour hike to the village of Indeli on top of the escarpment. The path up the escarpment was a steep scramble over broken rocks, leading through a split in the rock face. In a few places the path crossed cracks and crevasses several meters wide, which were passable only by Dogon “ladders” made of notched logs. Higher on the cliff we had a great view of the plain below. We could see where the barely-farmable land near the villages gave way to sand dunes farther away.

The village of Indeli has held on to its animist traditions more than any other Dogon village. In addition to several togu nas, Ideli has a handful of menstruation houses, which women are required to remain inside for the duration of their periods. I looked inside one, and it was an empty stone-walled circle about twelve feet in diameter with a low ceiling and a dirt floor. Many family courtyards have fetishes for making sacrifices to the spirits. They look like rounded clay mounds and are often covered with chicken blood.

Oumar led us to the local witch doctor’s courtyard. Dozens of animal skulls stared out at us from the walls of the granaries and the fetish mounds were freshly coated with chicken blood. The thatched roofs looked like witches’ hats, with animal hides and bird feathers dangling from the edges.

We climbed up a rocky rise to get an overhead view of the village, and on the way up we could see the brightly-colored baobab fibers of mask costumes peeking out of cracks in the rocks, their sacred storage places. From above, we had a great view of Indeli’s rooftops. Houses were all made of stone with flat mud roofs, mixed in with the mud granaries and their witches-hat thatch coverings. Each house had ladder access to the roof, where women spread vegetables out to dry.

We hiked a little further that evening to Begnetowo, where there was a popular campement. There were several other groups of tourists there from around the world, including some non-hikers in high heels, visiting only the villages accessible by car. It was one of those rare occasions that made me realize how far-removed I am from that world of nice clothes and makeup. We spent the night on a rooftop under a starry sky and the dark outline of the rock formations that towered over us.

The next morning we spent a little time exploring Begnetowo on the rounded rocks that formed the edge of the escarpment. This town had been divided into two villages: the original animist village and a newer section where the converted Christians lived. Yet the Christians are still animists at heart; they practice a mélange of the two belief systems.

We hiked that morning along the top of the falaise to Dourou. On the way we passed people planting their fields, which were really just small sandy patches in the rock that somehow produced enough food to feed the village. Our hike that morning was a little longer, and we didn’t arrive in Dourou until around noon. With the blazing sun it was apparent that we were hiking just south of the great Sahara.

That afternoon we headed back down the escarpment via Dogon Canyon. The trail was steep and rocky and required a few more Dogon ladders, but the scenery was fantastic. We arrived in Nombri in the early evening, where the weekly market was in full swing. We went to our campement and clean up and eat dinner, planning to return to the busy market for some local dolo. However, just after dinner a storm rolled in and we retreated to the campement’s small mud rooms as the drops began to fall.

The rain let up after a short time, and we considered moving back outside. As I moved aside the curtain that formed the door to our room, I saw what looked like fog rolling in toward us. The locals in the courtyard were rushing frantically inside, and as the swirling cloud came closer I saw that it was not fog but dust. I pulled our room’s wet curtain closed as if that would protect us. Though it was only around five thirty and very much daytime, when the cloud of dust reached us it instantly became night.

More rain came, mercifully, after just a few minutes of breathing dust. Oumar told us that it was a rare for a dust storm to occur after rain - and that it was interpreted by the locals as a sign of evil. Fortunately we were heading out the next morning.

Our last morning’s hike was done mostly barefoot, since it was across a sand dune. When we reached a dirt road, our hired bush taxi was waiting for us and we took our last look at the Bandiagara Escarpment before heading out.

We had lunch in Koro before saying goodbye to Oumar, our charming and intelligent Dogon guide. “The” Oumar certainly lived up to his reputation as an excellent guide and I’d recommend him to anyone traveling in the area. But beware - in Mopti, Ouahigouya, and other nearby cities there are some faux-type Oumar impersonators who try to steal his clients. The real Oumar speaks English and has ID proving he is a certified guide.

OK…that was long a long entry. Thanks for reading this far. A la prochaine fois.

Hiking in Dogon Country

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