The landscape seems to be made entirely of it, in awesome arrangements; natural pillars, piles resembling giant African heads, waves, sheets, arches and animals. The rocks here are often iron rich, so that the surfaces appear to be rusted and peeling. The single biggest rock feature is the sheer escarpment which must be 800 to 1000 metres deep at times. When you are at the bottom of the cliff face, its possible to see tiny handmade mud buildings hanging perilously close to the edge of the cliff face itself, in small caves that stretch across in ribbons. These buildings look like nests made by Swallows, but were made, in fact, by the people that lived here before the farming Dogon people arrived in the 14th or 15th. These original people were tiny; The Tellem; Pygmies, who lived a hunter-gatherer existence, living in caves reached by climbing up, or down, the thick vines, which hung down the escarpment, in times of a more tropical climate. When they vanished, moved on or assimilated into the Dogon people, they left in their caves behind them beautiful carved sculptures, ceramics, and intricately woven cotton textiles. These remains are now very sought after by collectors worldwide, and are more precious than diamonds.
Dogon escarpment in the late afternon.
The Dogon, when they settled here, brought with them knowledge of farming and growing; a more pastoral existence. Inhabiting the old Tellem caves, and creating new settlements at the tip or foot of the escarpment. Settlement here, brought issues of protecting sleeping families from wild animals, other tribes. Water, often an hour or two’s walk from the village, meant that much of the day, for the women and children, would be occupied, while the men tended to their crops.
The materials they used for their single storey dwellings were the ones close to hand. Stone, earth and wood and grass. The same materials are used today with the addition of cement to fix the regularly sized dressed rock blocks together. Where cement hasn’t been used it is possible to see that there was until recently, a strong tradition of beautiful dry stone walling here for fences, walls and bases of houses. The granaries are the most noticeable architectural feature. Made from strips of thin branches woven together like baskets, then coated with mud, these are then thatched with local grass. Like literally everything in the Dogon country, symbolic meaning is attached to the shape, the position and number of tiny doors that allow access to the food and belongings stored within.
The Dogon also brought with them a complex system of beliefs and spirituality. Being Animist, everything is embued with a spirit. The Oxford English Dictionary defines Animism, as ‘one who attributes a living soul to natural objects and phenomena’.
Protective shrines from bad spirits are to be found at the entrance of each village, and often each house. Most villages had an Ogon, a spiritual leader and healer. Dogon belief systems and symbols are well illustrated in the fabulous wooden carved granary doors, which show the story of the beginning of the world. Tall slender seated figures represent the primordial couple from which the Dogon’s descend.
Sacrifice is also a way of life. The giving of a sacrifice, milk, millet porridge, chicken, or goats, will pave the way for a better harmony, appease ancestors, calm bad spirits, improve health.
Where there is water, you will find an abundance of tiny green gardens growing mainly onions, but other vegetables too. The pungent Dogon onions, used extensively locally, are also sold in markets all over Mali. For transportation and longevity, they are first pounded into a paste on the bare rock, then made into balls and gathered to dry on the hot rocks. There are two parts of the onion, separated before pounding; the bulb, creating a lighter coloured ball and the green leaves which make a darker ball. I came across a large number being processed by a group of women, just out side Bongo, a village quarter of Sangha. The many round onion balls arranged en mass had taken on the shape of the softly undulating rocks below and reminded me of aboriginal paintings from Australia.
Gogoly from Banani.
My visit to the Dogon country was all too brief. I had only a couple of days in which to meet and greet the many family members of this nobleman class, the Family Dolo from Gogoly. Like all noblemen everywhere, they inhabit what is considered to be the best location here in the Dogon. Gogoly, approximately 100 metres long and perhaps 50metres deep, sits at the extreme edge of the escarpment, facing east and overlooking the escarpment as it winds its way along the pink sands of the Gondo plain.
The Dolo family, who have adopted me, has an interesting quantity of artists, and artist friends, and guides. In may, when I last visited, I was ‘named’ Yakéné Dolo at a special naming ceremony, after which I was considered part of the village, and allowed access to the sacred spaced and secrets of the village. (Yakéné means gift of God.
Amahiguéré Dolo, the Sculptor I have been in residence in Ségou with is the son of chief of the village here. The tiny Campement (hostel) where Seydou Dolo and I stayed, run by Assoulou Dolo, his cousin (another artist) has a tiny flat roofed two roomed space, next to a small patio overlooking the fabulous view. Amassagou Dolo is his uncle and is a very close friend of Miguel Barceló, the Spanish Painter, who has built a residence here, and recently visited with a complete camera crew.
No.1 Belle Vue
I too have been offered the chance of building something here, and am extremely honoured. I will be looking at the price of renovating a small two roomed flat roofed space that Seydou’s father built, to become my studio. Ive nicknamed it No.1 Belle Vue, because of its stunning location. The old palm trunk roof is in needs to be replaced and extended to make more outdoor shelter and work space for me. This tiny studio is next door to the Sculptor Dolo’s space he’s developing to accommodate artists from around the world to be in residence, so plenty of stimulating company. Infact the little quarter is well equipped to host visitors. Another guide and cousin, Amadou, was hosting a 14 person French group here on our middle night, so we were invited to the spit roast dinner. All the children from the quarter (possibly 30-40) were gathered at the gate excitedly, for hours. They had gathered to dance for us. A couple of talking drums, and empty plastic oil drums created the rhythm. Amadou cleared the dinner away and wetted the dusty earth, to control the dust about to be raised. First a circle was danced, everyone shuffling forward slowly. Then pairs of dancers did short virtuoso vigorous bursts of energy, feet and knees flying. People cheering, whistles blown. I tried to video, but there wasn’t enough light, so I recorded the sound only.
All the roofs are flat here, and are used for sleeping on and sometimes for storage too.
The solar powered Cyber Café
I sent a blog installment and image of the onions and workers from the new wi-fi equipped Cyber Café brought about by the young Mayor of the quarter. This place is entirely solar powered, from which run the lights, ten laptops and a fridge. Solar energy has a huge role to play in Mali, this energy above all others, it is rich in.
Life here is extremely basic, as it is hot. Water, to drink and to wash with comes from either the spring, or a well build with the artist Barcelo’s help financially. None of the local houses have toilets, but communal cliff edge spaces are used. When the locals have left their donations, hungry goats or sheep are quick to follow (Foreign visitors make use of the specially built basic ones).
I have had less showers in Mali in the past two months than I have fingers on both hands.
I make use of the shower with extreme joy. Fed by water collected from the sacred springs in caves below Gogoly, its like being blessed.
Food is centred around millet and To, (pronounced Toe) an uncooked semi solid, dough like substance made from ground millet. Pulverised Baobab leaves are used for sauce to wet the To. Millet porridge is breakfast. Millet Beer is drunk here even by the children, who miraculously, seems to have a sixth sense about where the edge of the cliff is. They need too; a slipover the edge would spell disaster. Way below is the village of Banani. From the Campement roof I can hear people waking and beginning to move about far below me, well before dawn. Its so extremely hot here that people get work done here early, before the suns power kicks in, by nine. By two or three it reaches its highest temperature. Only the most hardy carry on then. After four it begins to cool again, to a relatively manageable temperature.
Starry starry night
The nights are bathed with cooling winds, and the clear sky is awash with stars. The new moon allows even the dimmest stars an opportunity to be seen. The Dogon have a mythology based on one star, the brightest to the naked eye, in particular; Sirius, the Dog star, which they have believed for centuries is orbited by a twin stars; Pa Tolo and Emme Ya. Many theories exist as to how or why the Dogon knew this even before one of the first of the binary planets was ‘discovered’ by westerner scientists in 1840. The second binary star was the subject of speculation in 1920, and then confirmed in 1995. One theory has come from Robert Temple, who has written books saying that visitors from outer space visited them. However they found out, today it is amazing to realise that these people knew about the rings of Saturn and four of Jupiter’s moons, far earlier than we westerners did.
Here the sun rapidly sets, and night comes quickly. As darkness descends, it is pierced by small points of light. Down below, there are signs of people cooking on campfires; some far out in the desert. The closer fires, are those of the women of Banani, cooking over their small brush fires. The further fires are Fulani tribes people; nomadic people herding cattle and bringing fresh milk and meat to be sold in Dogon Villages.
There is absolutely no street lighting here, and often people will walk in the pitch dark, reading the undulating rocky ground beneath their feet, the way we would read and memorise a favourite poem. They know their way around by heart. Some people carry torches too, and so shafts of light illuminate the intense darkness with random sweeps and movements that reflect the torch holder direction and activity.
Meetings in the Middle of Somewhere 