Djenne
December 12, 2005
We’re driving through Utah! Not the beautiful southern part, but the really ugly northern part. It is dry and barren and you can see for miles. It is completely different from the lushness of Sadiola, although it is much cooler here. We left Mopti yesterday and arrived in Djenne several hours and a ferry ride later.
Djenne is a town made entirely of mud. UNESCO has declared it and the mosque inside as world heritage sites. The mosque is the largest mud structure in the world. We arrived on Sunday and spent the night so as to be here for the market day today. The market is huge and well known throughout the country. We are finishing breakfast and preparing for our day.
Last night we bore witness to a first time ever event in Djenne; a wrestling match. It pitted Dogon men against Bombara men. It was quite exciting. The young men entered wearing western style clothes with leather skirts over their shorts. The skirts were adorned with metal beads. They started by dancing; shaking their beads, kicking their feet, strutting their stuff. All the men danced around a ring to the rhythm of several drums and a Dogon flute. Everyone was introduced and then the match began. Two at a time, men would step into the middle of the sand pit, dancing to the beat, circling until just the right moment, and then they would strike. As the round continued the drum beat would intensify and the flute would play a little faster, the men getting more aggressive, picking each other up and finally pinning one to the ground. The winner would dance around the circle waving a feather, celebrating his victory, the musicians following him back to his side to praise his skill. It was quite a spectacle. It was clear that most of the town had shown up and they were there only to watch as no one accosted us to buy anything. We stayed for an hour and a half before stumbling back to our room. We could hear the music from our hotel; it went far into the night. Very Lekker!
The scourge of Djenne is the open sewer system. The town itself is beautiful; the mud buildings are very supple with no sharp corners anywhere. The “streets” are too narrow for cars; even sometimes too narrow to walk side by side. They wind and twist between the buildings, never running in a straight line for long. Without a guide we would wander the streets forever and never find our way out. There are shops on rooftops and inside homes. There are, of course, goats, sheep, donkeys, chickens, and small children everywhere. Down the center of each lane is a cement trough or merely an oozing river of slime. The stench is, at times, overwhelming. One must be very careful where they step. Since the dirt is never even, it would be easy to slip and take that fatal step.
The market is incredible. Where last night there was an open courtyard, this morning there are a thousand stalls. It is as if the stands have sprouted forth from the Earth. This is not a tourist market. There are no masks or trinkets for sale. There are fruits, vegetables, fabric, batteries, goats, chickens, fish, wrenches, radios, and any other common household item. People come from miles around to do their weekly shopping. School does not happen on Mondays in Djenne so that children can help at the market. It is all at once chaotic and ordered; an exquisite dance that plays itself out every Monday evening only to be reborn again a week later.
Everywhere we are greeted by Toubab! Toubab! (too-bob) and asked for gifts. Pictures must be paid for and all prices are negotiable. Two boys we met last night followed us most of the day, leading us here and swindling us there. We finally sent them on their way. We meandered through the market, purchasing little, but observing a lot. It was a beautiful scene of daily life in Mali.
MJR
We’re driving through Utah! Not the beautiful southern part, but the really ugly northern part. It is dry and barren and you can see for miles. It is completely different from the lushness of Sadiola, although it is much cooler here. We left Mopti yesterday and arrived in Djenne several hours and a ferry ride later.
Djenne is a town made entirely of mud. UNESCO has declared it and the mosque inside as world heritage sites. The mosque is the largest mud structure in the world. We arrived on Sunday and spent the night so as to be here for the market day today. The market is huge and well known throughout the country. We are finishing breakfast and preparing for our day.
Last night we bore witness to a first time ever event in Djenne; a wrestling match. It pitted Dogon men against Bombara men. It was quite exciting. The young men entered wearing western style clothes with leather skirts over their shorts. The skirts were adorned with metal beads. They started by dancing; shaking their beads, kicking their feet, strutting their stuff. All the men danced around a ring to the rhythm of several drums and a Dogon flute. Everyone was introduced and then the match began. Two at a time, men would step into the middle of the sand pit, dancing to the beat, circling until just the right moment, and then they would strike. As the round continued the drum beat would intensify and the flute would play a little faster, the men getting more aggressive, picking each other up and finally pinning one to the ground. The winner would dance around the circle waving a feather, celebrating his victory, the musicians following him back to his side to praise his skill. It was quite a spectacle. It was clear that most of the town had shown up and they were there only to watch as no one accosted us to buy anything. We stayed for an hour and a half before stumbling back to our room. We could hear the music from our hotel; it went far into the night. Very Lekker!
The scourge of Djenne is the open sewer system. The town itself is beautiful; the mud buildings are very supple with no sharp corners anywhere. The “streets” are too narrow for cars; even sometimes too narrow to walk side by side. They wind and twist between the buildings, never running in a straight line for long. Without a guide we would wander the streets forever and never find our way out. There are shops on rooftops and inside homes. There are, of course, goats, sheep, donkeys, chickens, and small children everywhere. Down the center of each lane is a cement trough or merely an oozing river of slime. The stench is, at times, overwhelming. One must be very careful where they step. Since the dirt is never even, it would be easy to slip and take that fatal step.
The market is incredible. Where last night there was an open courtyard, this morning there are a thousand stalls. It is as if the stands have sprouted forth from the Earth. This is not a tourist market. There are no masks or trinkets for sale. There are fruits, vegetables, fabric, batteries, goats, chickens, fish, wrenches, radios, and any other common household item. People come from miles around to do their weekly shopping. School does not happen on Mondays in Djenne so that children can help at the market. It is all at once chaotic and ordered; an exquisite dance that plays itself out every Monday evening only to be reborn again a week later.
Everywhere we are greeted by Toubab! Toubab! (too-bob) and asked for gifts. Pictures must be paid for and all prices are negotiable. Two boys we met last night followed us most of the day, leading us here and swindling us there. We finally sent them on their way. We meandered through the market, purchasing little, but observing a lot. It was a beautiful scene of daily life in Mali.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 9:44 PM
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