The Grand Voyage

As I sit to write this, we have shockingly entered our final week in Mali. But before we catch too much of the nostalgie, here is a photo-journal of the grand adventure we had last week with my mom and Anne!

First, a few comments up front. We traveled with a guide named "Grand Père," who (let's just say) was a total personality. Luckily for us, he knows literally everyone in Mali -- a fact which came in handy as he cussed out the police officers at several checkpoints along the way. Our level-headed driver was (ironically enough) named Van, and together they made quite the crack team.

We started our trip in Dogon Country, which runs along the cliff of a large plateau in northern Mali. Apparently the Dogon people fled to this area a long while ago to hide from Muslim invaders, and have more or less held onto their animistic religion into the 21st century.

The first full day we drove from Bandiagara, which is a rather large town up on the plateau, to the edge of the falaise (aka "escarpment" -- I'm no geologist, but they tell me this is an English word). On the drive, we passed through the "onion capital of West Africa" -- apparently, some patronizing colonial explorer passed through this region in the early 1900's and left behind the necessary ingredients for such an agricultural machine. Here's a shot of my mom pounding onion to be made into balls and left to dry.

Once we reached the falaise, we hiked down to a village called Nombouri (not to be confused with Hombouri, which may or may not have just been taken by Tuareg rebel fighters). Unfortunately the pictures don't do justice to the view -- you'll just have to come see it yourself.

Next, a picture of Tellem houses. Apparently, before the Dogon fled to Dogon Country, there was a pigmy civilization that lived in this region. Exactly what happened to them is still a mystery... kinda like Elvis, they just disappeared. (Aliens?) But, the entire cliffside is still littered with their houses, which the Dogon now use as mausoleums and tourist bait. To add to the mystery surrounding the Tellem peoples, it's not immediately clear how they reached these houses. Many people believe they had magic powers and could fly, although Grand Père informed us that the "official" theory suggests they used bridges from the large trees that used to grow at the foot of the plateau. I much prefer the flying pygmy version myself.

Tellem cliff dwellings.

Me doing some HMC publicity. Klawe would be proud...

Over the next three days, we hiked from village to village along the falaise. In one village we stopped at for lunch, we were the honored (paying) guests of a famous Dogon "Mask Dance." It was pretty incredible to watch.

More advertisement for Mudd.

At this point, it was getting late in the day and we decided to make up for our afternoon of dallying by riding in the car. However, Murphey's Law trapped us in the sand. Twice. As Van pointed out, "Sand is like the rebels. You don't negotiate."

Southerners driving in sand is apparently like Portlanders driving in snow.

But, on the bright side, it was Sarah's birthday and we did get to see several camels just chillin' in the sun.

Camels!

Our last day in Dogon Country was spent hiking up to these villages known as the "three Yugas." Despite the rigorous climb, I would say this was the highlight of the trip -- the scenery was absolutely gorgeous, and the villages themselves appeared to be trapped in some romantic version of the 14th century. Unfortunately, their remote seclusion up a rocky cliff also means the women must walk a long way to port water, and the one child we saw who did attend school has to walk several kilometers up hill. Both ways. (No joke.)

Me wearing Grand Père's hat. I felt rather like Indie.

Other highlights of Dogon Country: We got to try some millet beer, which old men sit around and drink all afternoon (it tastes like cider); saw some young men get shut down by the village elders for shoddy craftsmanship on their wife's granary; saw some sacrifice rocks; didn't get captured by Tuareg rebels; learned some Dogon phrases; saw a pond full of vegetarian crocodiles; got sandblasted as we slept; saw some incredible stars.

Millet beer.

Man making rope at a Dogon "meeting place."

Next, we headed into Djenne, which is home to the largest mud mosque in the world. We planned the trip so we would be there for market day -- the entire square in front of the mosque transforms into a patchwork of colored fabric and market stalls. Historically, Djenne was on the salt trade route from Timbuktu, and this market has been happening since a really frickin' long time ago.

It is often said that you can buy anything in a market like this. While not entirely true (they were out of stock on the iPhone 4S), a group of Fulani men wanted to buy Sarah for a flock of sheep. They were clearly out of their minds, because their first-offer price was waaay too low (there was some debate, but word on the street is Toubab wives cost at least a few camels more than a flock of sheep). None the less, it generated a few laughs.

The potential buyers.

We also went out to the UNESCO World Heritage site at Djenne Djenno ("old Djenne"). Surprisingly, we could just walk around and pick up old pottery ruins or pieces of skeletons -- kinda freaky. Unfortunately, there isn't enough money to implement the kinds of preservation measures that Djenne Djenno needs (like a wall). And since the US has totally defunded UNESCO over a General Assembly vote to recognize Palestinian statehood, there is no rush to buy a plane ticket and pick up your very own free piece of the archeological record.

Exposed scull. We feel this would make for an excellent
Bones "public service" episode about the need for a wall in Djenne Djenno.

From Djenne, we took a boat up the Niger river (the horror! the horror! oh wait, that's the Congo) to Mopti. Once again, we reveled in the gorgeous scenery, and met some nice Bozos (here in Mali, they are fishermen, not clowns).

The children were really eager to get their picture:
"Ça va photo? Ça va chemise?"

No, we didn't get this off of iStockPhoto. But it was a gorgeous sunset --
the big, red sun sinking softly into the enormous horizon.  

Us with our guide, Grand Père. He had just set down his 10th beer
before taking this photo.

In Mopti, we toured the harbor and bought some awesome Tuareg scarves. The hotel we stayed at was incredibly nice, and lucky for us, the Malian tourist industry is down in the dumps and so we had the place to ourselves. It does make one think, though, how a single government bureaucrat can decimate an entire economy by fudging the borders of a "do not travel" zone. On our way out of Mopti, we saw a bus full of American soldiers. Supposedly they are here to provide training to Malian forces, and possibly fight Al Quaeda on the side. Grand Père told us they usually aren't very nice while on duty, which was mildly upsetting but presumably they're just trying to do their job.

Tuareg scarves, actually borrowed in Djenne.

Man selling traditional medicine.

Finally, we ended up in Segou (the old capital of the Bambara Empire) for the first night of the music festival, "Festival sur le Niger." Travel fatigue was starting to set in, but we did meet a very jolly Tuareg man who sold us some camel skin boxes. Also, fun fact of the week: Tuaregs are __very__ ticklish. We have been inspired to write an ABC alliteration book called "Ticklish Tuaregs" to raise money for the project -- stay tuned for its possible release!

My mom and Anne with a ticklish Tuareg.

The last day, we did a morning boat trip to a village near Segou which is famous for its pottery. The village itself was fairly interesting (and we saw a very cute baby donkey), but I mostly enjoyed relaxing in the sun on the roof of our boat during the ride back.

That wraps up the 30,000 foot view of our grand voyage. We have many more pictures if you're interested. (No joke -- we netted ~3,200 photos over 10 days between four cameras. Everything is very well documented.) And now, as we enter what is literally the home stretch, we're buckling down to finish our Bamako bucket list and complete a long and sundry series of project-related tasks. So farewell for now, and see many of you soon!