Bogo Ja festival

My visit to the Arch of Kamadjan was only part of my day out from Bamako.  I chose that particular day because it was the weekend of the Bogo Ja Festival in Siby - Bogo meaning mud, and Ja I think meaning sun - celebrating the painting by many of the local women of their houses, granaries, wells, etc in various colours obtained from the local soil.  So the village was looking very colourful - mostly in abstract patterns as above, but some real artistic talent was on show on some houses!

As well as all of the colourful houses to look at, there were activities taking place in the centre of the town - women with painted faces and limbs dancing to some drumming, live local music with calabash, djembes, koras and singing, and a troop of puppeteers in from the capital to display their amazing ability not just to make the regular-sized puppets dance, but also with giant-sized puppets.  These latter they wore out into the streets of the town, notwithstanding that it was market day and so the main road was jam-packed already with buses, vans, taxis, motorbikes, horse-drawn carts and any other form of transport that people could find.  Their drummers bravely set out in front of them, and the people and vehicles moved aside as best they could, everyone with big smiles on their faces.

On my first day in the office, in my security briefing, I had told the Security Manager that I wanted to go to Siby, and he had said "I think that could be arranged".  However, I managed to upset them a week before the Siby festival by asking permission to go out to a concert one evening; I was following the rules I'd been given by asking permission, but rather than saying "no", they decided to give VERY grudging permission (so grudging that I didn't actually go to the concert) and report back to the project manager in the UK that I didn't want to follow the rules!  I feared that if I raised the Siby outing at this stage, they would at best say no, at worst report back to the UK again.  So I interpreted their initial response to mean that I could arrange to go to Siby (without their further involvement...), and I did so, taking care to use a 'safe' taxi driver (one they had recommended) and to be back home well before dark.  Thankfully I didn't break my leg ascending the arch or get kidnapped by rebels, and nor did we have an accident on the road (all too common here - we saw the aftermath of four such accidents that day).  But clearly given their attitude towards security - particularly for white visitors who are at higher risk of kidnap - this will be my only outing during my time working here.

a day out to visit the Arch of Kamadjan

 

My time in Mali is passing quickly, even though I am pretty much restricted to the Bamako office and my accommodation (now sharing an apartment with a colleague so as to save costs).  However I have managed to get one day out, when I visited the small town of Siby, some 45km south-west of Bamako.

It is well-known amongst travellers for the Kamadjan Arch which is near the village, and I started my day with a walk through the fields to the viewpoint from where I took the picture above.  Then we started an ascent, via the 'consultation cave' (where the elders come to ask advice from resident spirits who will speak to them in the early hours of the morning) - here a picture looking out from the cave - and from there up to a point underneath the arch.

It seemed as though that was the endpoint of the walk, but then the guide mentioned that it was possible to get on to the top of the arch although not everyone would make it up.  Something between a walk and a climb.  I asked if he thought I'd make it and he said maybe not ... but I said we should start the ascent, on the understanding that I could turn back at any point where it got too difficult.

There were some tricky bits - "put your left foot here", he said, "and your right foot on this rock here..." - but my legs weren't long enough to reach - so I did get lifted, pushed, and pulled a few times!  My taxi driver had come with us, having never visited the arch before, but on one of the steeper parts where you had to hold on with both hands he gave up, said he was getting vertigo and would wait for us to come back down.  But I made it all the way up (and back down)!  It was worth it in part for the sense of accomplishment, and in part for the great views.

Seeing a little, but not much, of Bamako

So, thrust back into the world of work, I have not had time to post an update here.  For security reasons they put us in a relatively good (ie expensive) hotel, and when costing an NGO $150 a night plus food, in addition to my consultancy fee, I really feel that I have to work hard; indeed the whole team has been bringing files back to the hotel to work on in the evening and at weekends.  Once we fight our way through the traffic, that is.  This is a typical street scene at this dusty time of year taken through the car window.

 With time out - for me - to get in a few laps of the rather large hotel swimming pool on Saturdays and Sundays!  Nice to get to fill up on the buffet breakfasts too - always my favourite meal of the day when staying at a decent hotel, although the sanctions on Mali are affecting the hotel: first the raisins ran out, then the dried apricots, then the cheese....

Security restrictions by my employer here are tight, but I was able to take a quick walk around the block by the hotel, and snap a picture of one of the two pillars representing Nascent Democracy.  Apparently the tortoise at the base, representing patience and wisdom, is supporting the arms and hands of the Malian people, which hold an egg in the process of hatching - being the birth of modern democracy, under the watchful eye and vigilence of the Imperial Eagle.  I have no idea when these were erected, but clearly some time before the coup d'etat in 2020...  They seem rather ironic at the moment, especially as there is a large poster of the transitional (coup) leader who has said he cannot organise elections before 2027!

I've also been learning a few basic facts about the country, such as the fact that its name comes from the Bambara word for hippopotamus - and the name of the capital comes from the Bambara words for crocodile (bamba) and river.  For this reason there are statues around the place of both hippos and crocodiles, including the stone crocodile above, located within the monument to the first president Modibo Keita (being refurbished, hence the lack of water in the pool).

Now they've moved us out of the hotel so as to save some money, into apartments used by secondees here in an upmarket part of town.  Upmarket meaning that we are surrounded by some pretty impressive large houses, but it is still infested with mosquitoes, and security restrictions mean that I am only allowed to set foot outside the apartment block if I can persuade the Togolese lady I'm sharing with to go out for a walk with me, as the office don't want the risk of our going out unaccompanied.