Nomads of Niger

The title of this post is actually the name of a book which I bought when aged 21 or 22, still a student trying to get by on a student grant, but which grabbed my attention when I saw it displayed in a shop.  I still have the book, and have long dreamed of going to see the people portrayed in it (the Wodaabe) - to see their famous Gerewol festival.

I didn't go when I lived in London, as Niger was not the easiest country to get a visa for (there being no embassy in the UK), and then when I moved out to West Africa it always seemed better to wait until 'next year', when the security situation in that part of Niger might improve.  It never did, but now it doesn't feel so threatening when compared with the much worse situation in neighbouring Mali and Burkina Faso.  So I decided to bite the bullet and go this year, whilst I have a Niger embassy just down the road and am still young enough to cope with nights sleeping in the desert.  I had found a Nigerien company (Zenith Tours) who offered such a trip (together with the mandatory security escort), and with Covid thankfully not an issue in this part of the world, I packed my bags and set off - to finally fulfill this long-held dream!

The experience was actually quite overwhelming, both the dance performances which are the purpose of the festival, but also the gathering itself - several thousand nomads, mostly Fulani but also Touaregs, with their cattle, sheep, goats, donkeys and camels.  & no concessions to tourists other than allowing us to wander wherever we liked and phtograph whoever and whatever we liked.

So early in the morning you could see people bringing in water from the watering hole at the edge of the site, preparing food, and leading their cattle out to graze.

Whilst some had traditional tents like the one in the photo to the left, some had modern tents.  A small number came by motorbike, with Nigerien music blasting out - and I saw many small, portable solar panels, mostly used to charge mobile phones, it seems.  But these were the only hints of the modern world. 

Most people did not speak either French or English, and of course I do not speak any of the languages of the participants, but I was able to find a few I could communicate with, those who had learned a little French in school, or who had picked up some English during time in Nigeria or Ghana.  For these are well-travelled people!  I asked one young man how many people were in the group he travelled with, but as a Fulani he travelled alone with his cattle - travelling for up to three months at a time, he told me.

Whilst those men who shared a language with me were happy to talk, communicating with the women was a different matter. 

The girls and young women seemed fascinated by me, but were also afraid.  I tried to make some physical contact, extending my hand, and there were gasps of fear as they backed off, whilst some of the younger girls hid behind the older ones.  By hanging around with them for a while - and not just smiling, but deliberately playing with my hair, which of course fascinated them - I was able to get some contact eventually with some of the braver ones who eventually touched my hair and my arm, but how I wish we could have had a conversation!

I should say that this lady to the left was not typical - most did not sport so much jewellery - but she was certainly photogenic!  Her hairstyle, however, is typical, with the hair pulled out over the forehead.  One person told me that this style indicates that they are 'available' for the young men who participate in the dance (which I will explain in the next post).

What was far more common was the facial tattoos; again I wish I could have communicated with the participants to understand the meaning behind them, but I did at least pick up that the three little lines spreading from the corners of the mouth indicate that one is a member of the Wodaabe ethnic group.  The rest could signify clan/family, or perhaps are simply decorative.

So much that I wanted to understand, but could not!!

Which maybe added to the sense that I was in a totally different time and place, almost a different world.  Nearly two weeks have gone by since I was at this festival and I am still struggling to bring myself back to the world I live in.

To finish, in any case, here is a picture I sneakily took between our tents early in the morning, of our security escort.  I should say that at no point did it 'feel' as though such an escort was necessary, but I suppose those who are kidnapped in this part of the world are unlikely to sense that a kidnap is imminent.