Thursday, January 27, 2005

West Africa Vignettes

Vignettes from 2004 in Burkina Faso

“Broken countries, but then, how come they still survive? There is something about survival in Africa that beats me, every time.” Anne Paludan


Weather

It is so hot here in the Sahel that even my shadow drips. At high noon it drips out of sight, leaving just me, dripping in the desert. Me dripping, and the riverbeds dry for months.
­ Climate is not a selling point of this place; there are no good seasons here. There are less-bad seasons, and lateral moves from one meteorological trial to the next. Winter begins in December. We are relieved because November is the month everyone burns dead branches and refuse from streets and fields, and respiratory illnesses abound. December nights and mornings are pleasantly cool (not cool enough to kill the mosquitoes) but it is still up to 36 C in the mid-day shade. Harmattan begins in January. Harmattan is a hot dry wind that blows in off the desert, bringing with it a thick haze of sand and dust (this is a lateral move from the haze of burning garbage in Nov). And just as I am fed up with sand gathering in every crevasse of my house and body, the hot season will begin. This will turn the world from clothes dryer into an oven. The rains will begin in June and hit their apex in August. The rivers of water will be essential to plant new crops, but travel is severely limited, as roads become impassable. Then in Sept-Oct the rain and the wind cease. Because there is no breeze, the number of insects hovering about multiplies. They will congregate in the pleasant confines of my well-lit house, where they drop into my food and wine, and fly down the front of my dress and into my hair. This makes me look forward to the relief that the Harmattan will bring.

Harmattan:
a hot dry desert wind that blows the sand of the Sahara into every crevasse of your mind and body.
­ I was in my office one afternoon, quietly working at my computer on a peaceful, slightly overcast day. I glanced up from my computer and the sky outside my office window had very suddenly turned an apocryphal, dark quinacrodone orange. The air was completely still. Then a strong wind came howling in from across the savannah, thick with sand from the Sahara. After a few minutes of this eerie preparation, a torrential downpour commenced, complete with thunder and lightening. The noise under a tin roof is awesome.

­ These thunderous downpours are a foil to the ‘ghost-riders in the night’. That’s what I call the cyclists that ride with no lights. Their shapes emerge like phantoms from the shadows, hardly registering on your optic nerve before soundlessly disappearing again into the darkness. The subtlety of this sight in contrast to the intensity of the downpours is a visual metaphor of life here.

Sound and Light show in Mali
­ One night we stayed in a village on the top of a high falaise (cliff). The village is built on a wide, flat rocky projection with steep cliffs on three sides, and a rocky peak on the fourth. This location provides a 300-degree view of the cliffs and sandstone pillars across the ravine. A wild electrical storm came in the night we were there. I took my thermarest chair and found a spot alone on a huge sandstone slab outside the village, and watched the storm slowly gather force in the black night.

Lightening started soundlessly in one darkening corner of the sky, and spread to surround the village. Ragged flashes would come from all directions, and for brief seconds would light up the whole sky, revealing the craggy sandstone rock formations and peaks close by. In between flashes the world was completely black. After a half hour of this spectacular light show, the audible elements joined in, like sections in a symphony. Thunder started a slow tympanic grumble in the distance, then came a howling strong wind carrying dust from the Sahel, and finally, with a sense of relief, crashing rains. In my head the orchestra played full blast.

­ We finally had a major rain this morning. Because there is no sewer system, many side roads turn momentarily into rushing rivers. I was driving down one such road, and decided to turn onto a side road and park just before my destination because I didn’t know how deep the rushing water was. But the shop was on the other side of the street- how to get across the rushing river on foot?? I managed to jump across one stream, but was now stranded on a little island in the middle of the road. Suddenly a 4X4 came rushing right for me, and I was prepared to get completely drenched as he drove by. But instead he stopped right in front of me, opened his driver side door, told me to stand on the doorframe and hold onto the handle above. He then drove me across the rushing river and deposited me safely on the other side, and with a charming smile, drove off. Did I feel like a rescued princess?? And did the Burkina fellows waiting for me in the shop have a good laugh??

Food

­ I finally made it to a restaurant that specializes in local dishes. How about Rat in tomato sauce served with ‘To’ [pronounced ‘toe’]? To is a thick, tasteless, paste [yes, that’s right- Elmer’s White Glue] made out of maize, and always eaten with a sauce. Rat was one of the most expensive dishes on the menu, as it is a specialty item. These are ‘country rats’ imported from the fields of Ghana, not the ‘city rats’ that eat garbage. How was it, you may wonder?? Never believe people who say of a strange dish, 'it's just like chicken' but decline to order it themselves. I was relieved that the head and tale were missing, but it still had a definite rat form and a gamey aftertaste. If I didn’t know it was rat I probably would have eaten more than a few bites, but it was still….. rat.

­ I recently visited my very favourite restaurant- Gondwana- which is also an art gallery displaying art from throughout West Africa. One walks from a non-descript dusty Ouaga street through the gate into another world. Three theme rooms, all decorated with original art, surround a courtyard with a beautiful small fountain and many plants. One area is a Tuareg tent, complete with sandy floor and a roof made from 500 goatskins. A West African band plays two nights a week. The free appetizer that night was a dish of sautéed caterpillars. This may seem unusual by itself, but this starter was served to us just before the dark chocolate-pistachio mousse that we came for. All was washed down with a shot glass of strong sweet Tuareg mint tea and a shooter of rum and a syrup made from local flowers.

­ Traditional West African tea is served in a social ritual that can take most of the evening. Tea is made in petite, colourful ceramic teapots heated over coals in a small wire basket. ‘Gunpowder tea’ from China is used, with lots of sugar, and fresh mint leaves. Once the tea and water boil, the liquid is poured from a height from teapot to cup over and over again, to create froth. There are always three rounds of tea:

First tea is bitter as Life
Second tea is strong as Love
Third Tea is soft as Death


Cultural Vignettes

Greetings
This is a ‘4 kiss’ area of the world, and as many verbal greetings. I am enchanted by this system of greetings- in its detail and inclusiveness. Every morning and every afternoon Mamoudou will ask me how I am, how is my health, how is my family, and if I rested well. Even service people one has never met before and strangers on the phone must be properly greeted before you ask them for help. The guards sitting in front of houses and the men looking after the roadside stalls will loudly shout greetings after me if I forget to say hello as I ride by on my bike.

Women’s Work
­ Women have such hard lives here. They have enormous responsibilities, but their work is taken for granted. If a man’s wife dies, her work will be taken over by another woman- whether it is another wife, or daughter or sister. Women are keenly aware of this imbalance. The men I speak with (even educated men) seem to accept this as the way life is and must be for women, and assume that women accept this as well. They do not. Most men are completely out of touch with what women think and feel. When a man speaks on behalf of women, I double-check his statement with women friends. Rarely do women agreed with a man’s assessment. They need Tracy Chapman to come and sing about revolution:
­ “Don’t you know we’re talking about a revolution, it sound… like a whisper.”

­ Conversation with a village woman with a baby on her back:
*-How many children do you have?
#-Nine
*- Will this ninth one be your last child?
#- [with resignation] Madame, do you not have a husband?

­ “The women have nothing to do” comments one of the Sudanese refugee men, when listing the difficulties they face. As I walk around the camp, I see women collecting water at the well and hauling it back to their tents, washing children, washing clothes, preparing meals, going into the bush to collect wood, and I think to myself, ‘There they are- doing ‘nothing’ again! Women’s work in Africa is invisible.

Loaves and fish and chewing gum
­ A package of chewing gum I received illustrates the effectiveness of the social distribution system. An American fellow who had worked with MCC in Burkina Faso in past years gave a package of gum to each of us, among other goodies. When I got back home, I gave the package to my night guard, Ousmane. He immediately split the package of 6 in half, and gave 3 pieces to the guard across the street. Ousmane ate one, but I’m sure the other two were shared when he got home, and also the three pieces that went to the other guard. It was a lovely teaching moment to see this one pack of gum spread out within hours of its first distribution. And I have been trained now that if I bring a drink or some food out to my night guard, I must also bring something for the guard across the street. The difficult side of this distribution system is the enormous expectation placed on anyone fortunate enough to have a job. They are expected to provide support (even if occasional) to their extended family in the village.




Poverty and Privilege and Choice

­ Poor people have so few choices. They cope with the difficulties of life because they have no other option. Many of them do so with great courage and even the ability to sing and laugh. I had a conversation with a woman who cooks and cleans for one of my colleagues. She said to me, ‘Life brings us so many hard things- too hard for us if we know them beforehand. But God knows, and He gives us the strength and the grace we need. I told her that I did not have such faith. ‘Ah, but you have choices’ she said. When you don’t have choices you need more faith.

­ Soon after I arrived I had an unexpected chance to visit the house of a local staff person. In our standards he is terribly poor. He has a young wife and baby and they live in one small room- mud walls, tiny windows, tin roof, with no electricity or running water. And even this modest spot was about to be demolished to build a road. But in Burkina terms he is not poor. He’s maybe closer to the bottom than to the top, but he owns that tiny bit of land (albeit as a kind of squatter). I left there with a more concrete understanding of how privileged I am. I have an air conditioner in my bedroom, and ceiling fans in other rooms of my house. Every time I go from my air-conditioned office into the reception area, I hit a wall of privilege.

­ When I related this to my French teacher, Jacqueline, she was philosophical and pragmatic. She said, ‘It doesn’t help me if you stop using your air conditioner because you have this privilege and I do not. But it is good that you don’t have the illusion that you live as a Burkinabé, and it is also good that you are sensitive to help others.

­ Pascal- the day guard from another agency- just paid me a quick visit. This is the 6th day of a serious case of malaria. He has come in to the city to visit a health clinic. He received 2 injections, which have made it difficult for him to walk. He is going to his office to give them the note that he is sick, and then he has to cycle 17 km home. I gave him enough money to take his bike and catch a series of local taxies to take him home. Pascal said, ‘life is very difficult for us, but we are used to it. It bothers you because you aren’t used to this kind of difficulty.’ I replied, ‘I know you are used to it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.’ He nodded.

­ On another visit Pascal told me the story of his baby daughter’s illness. She recently had a medical emergency and so Pascal took her to the public hospital. The staff would not even admit her to be looked at until Pacal paid up front for the examination, the tests, and the hospital room. They were prepared to literally let her die in the waiting room. Pascal left her there and went frantically around town to collect money. He could only manage to come up with half of what the hospital asked for, but time was running out, so he returned with this. The hospital staff admitted her, and proceeded to give her the most basic treatment, which was all the initial funds would cover. Over the next few days as Pascal raised funds, the hospital provided further treatment. This is the publicly funded hospital, which in theory should be free. If you are poor here and you get sick, chances are good that you will die. Pascal is still paying these medical debts.

Monday, January 03, 2005

Cockfight in a Freezer

Cockfight in a freezer

Burkina Faso Nov 2003

In wilting heat of Ouagadougou, the capital city of Burkina Faso, I sorted through home videos left behind over the years by MCC workers, picking out one labeled "couple's figure skating competition." I had just put the tape in when Mamoudou, the cook, and the night guard Ousmane came into the house. I tried to explain what was happening — that the floor was covered with ice, and the athletes had ‘special boots’ that allowed them to move on the ice. It is 45 degrees Celsius in the shade here. You have to stick your head in a freezer to experience ice; most people don't have electricity, much less freezers.

So Mamoudou and Ousmane stared at the rink. They watched in awe as skaters twirled and jumped to the music. "If you showed this in a village," Mamoudou said with a serious look, "they would think it was magic."

We missed one section so I rewound the tape, which meant watching the routine in double time and backward!

Unfortunately my limited French vocabulary did not give them the clearest
understanding of the sport. I don’t know how to say the word ‘blade,’ (although I doubt that would have really helped) so I described the bottom of the ‘special boot’ as having a kind of big knife attached to it.

I fear this left them with the impression that figure skating is akin to a human cockfight in a freezer, and that they were wondering why the rink was not covered with blood at the end of the couples’ performance.

A few days later I had a reciprocal ‘Burkina’ moment: We were driving down the dirt road filled with potholes near my office, past the usual stream of bicycles and mopeds, when one particular bike caught my eye.

An old woman was riding a bike with a big load of wood on the back — and a very long bamboo pole balanced on her head — both hands still on the bike. Slowly, slowly, she moved her head to see if the traffic was clear for her
to proceed.

I had the same reaction as Mamoudou did watching the figure skating… "If
she were in Canada," I told the driver, "people would think she was a street performer!"

Tanzania Travel Notes

Tanzania Travel Notes
Sept 2004

I promised several friends that I would put together some travel notes on my return from East Africa. I had two weeks of meetings and one week of holidays in Tanzania at the end of Aug and early September this year (2004), plus one weekend on the coast of Kenya. It was a fabulous visit, thanks to friends who gave me leads on places to visit and travel companies, and aTanzanian friend who hosted me.

Kilimanjaro
We stayed at a lovely small hotel at the foot of Kilimanjaro called Marangu[1]. We managed a half-day hike up to the first hut (and back down- quite a half day!). Most of the route to this first hut is in lush forest with ferns, vines, and occasional monkeys. The trees get smaller close to the hut. One can hike a further .8 km to a viewpoint where on a clear day you can see the Masai Mara of Kenya, and Mawenzi, the smaller peak of Kilimanjaro.

Kili is not cheap to climb. Park fees are around $75usd per day (this includes staying at the huts), plus the cost of porters and guides. Most routes take 5 days. There is snow all year round at the top, and many people get altitude sickness. Canadians should beware that this is not a lonely backcountry mountain experience. Striking and diverse scenery, but the huts are crowded with people.

Arusha and Game parks
Our Arusha meeting site was outside of town close to another mountain- Mt. Mehru[2]. On the last day I went for an afternoon walk and discovered the loveliest lodge where we stopped to have a drink. Ngare Sero[3] is close to Mt. Mehru, about 10km outside Arusha. Early German settlers established this small family-run lodge 50 years ago. The lodge is decorated with local art, and sits in peaceful and beautiful grounds above a trout pond. One can walk on paths through the trees to nearby villages. Arusha itself didn’t seem particularly interesting- a jumping off point for the game parks. We stayed at a very reasonably priced (and basic) Catholic guesthouse called ‘Spiritan’ close to the International Criminal Courts.

I finally managed to find a tour company who could offer me a group game park tour to join[4], (the price of a game park trip for an individual is prohibitive) and I signed up for a 3-day/2-night camping excursion to Tarangire, Manyara, and Ngorongoro. Due to circumstances I ended up with a guide and cook to myself, which was such a treat. The guide’s name was Amani, and I can highly recommend him- pleasant, knowledgeable, good sense of humour, and most importantly- a good eye for spotting game. You might want to check what kind of vehicle the safari company plans to use, and make sure it is a 4X4 with a roof opening. I saw some folk in vans that only had regular side windows, which is a limitation you should not have when viewing is the priority.

I went the economical way, which was to stay in regular campgrounds outside the parks. The first campground close to Manyara was fine but crowded and uninspiring. The second campground was above Manyara and on the way to Ngorongoro. It was more basic, but was in a peaceful and beautiful setting in the countryside, with a lovely dirt road leading to a view of the valley below.[5] One option to ask about is camping areas in the parks themselves. I was told it is possible to set up a tent in a designated area, if you pay a park guard (with a big gun) to stay with you. This is just a clearing, with absolutely no services. Note, this is in contrast to the luxury tent-camps that can be even more expensive than the luxury lodges. Depends on what kind of experience you are interested in!

Tarangire is two hours from Arusha. It is known as an elephant park but it has a real diversity of animals, and lots of Baobab trees. There is a river running the length of the park and in dry season the animals congregate nearby. Tarangire Safari Lodge sits on a high escarpment overlooking a length of the river. We were extremely fortunate in Tarangire to see two separate prides of lions, both just a few metres from our vehicle. The first pride slowly ambled across the road right in front of us, and the second pride lolled in the bush right at the side of the road, next to their recent kill.

Manyara is 3 hours from Arusha, and close to Ngorongoro and is much smaller, with lush green forest vegetation, but more tranquil, and with more birds. It borders lake Manyara, which is the home of thousands of flamingos, which create a horizon of pink in the distance. Because Manyara is smaller and less popular, there are considerably less vehicles- a pleasant change. One can stop at Gibbs Farm (a coffee plantation with a restaurant and guesthouse) on the way to or from Ngorongoro if you have time.

Ngorongoro Park
Although each game park is unique and worth a visit, it was Ngorongoro that most captivated me. My colleague describes it as:
one of the most dramatic places to visit on the planet. The decent road is a bit harrowing but being on the crater floor is remarkable. The crater wall (actually the mountain ring of a Cordillera) surrounds you. The animal population is rich and fairly stable as there is less migration in and out of the crater. All plains animals are in the crater, and the plain region of the park is home to large herds of wildebeest and zebra.

We got to the park gate quite early to make the most of the day. As we drove the long drive to start the descent into the crater, we were engulfed by a dense fog. It was indeed harrowing, as on-coming trucks would suddenly appear from the mist, barreling toward us. I despaired that we would see anything that day. However Amani, the guide, assured me that it would clear as soon as we started the descent, and he was right. It was a magical moment to turn a corner, stop the car, and watch the mist slowly start to lift, revealing the most dramatic sight of a vast flat plain with a lake shimmering in the distance. Hearing the bells of the cows (calling ‘ngoro-goro’) herded by the Masai boys in their bright red wraps and beads added to the magic. It was breathtaking.

Lushoto
I then took the local milk-run bus to Lushoto. It was a long, hot day in an over-packed bus that had two flat tires and ran almost 3 hours late. But as we left the main highway on the last leg of the journey, and wound our way high up into the lush green mountains, it all became worthwhile. I discovered this stunning region by grace of a Tanzanian friend who has a retreat/home in the area. The Lushoto region is a biosphere reserve high up in the mountains, supporting a diversity of plant and insect life that rivals the Amazon (or so they claim). There are many walks or mountain bike trails through temperate rainforest and local villages. I met a fellow who has started a tour company, and though I did not have time to do any tours with him, he did have some interesting interactive programs.[6] Each plateau of fields grows a different type of crop due to the slight change in altitude. We went to a spectacular viewpoint called Irente that offers a panorama view of the plains below, stretching toward Dar, and in the other direction the mountains and rainforests of Lushoto.A hotel is just being built here. There is also a tiny campground and canteen perched precariously on the terraced mountainside. Lushoto region has several small retreat/lodges in the mountains, used by those escaping the heat and noise of Dar. One particularly charming lodge is the Mullers Mountain Lodge[7] It is fairly secluded, several km from the town (except for its closest neighbor- the president of Tanzania). They can bring you there from the town of Lushoto, and they will also organize local sightseeing (walks in the mountains, rainforests, bird-watching…).

Zanzibar
I took a 15 minute flight from Dar to Zanzibar (rather than a 1.5 hour ferry- same price) Zanzibar is called the ‘Spice Island’ and is known for the diversity of spices that grow. It is also infamous for being the East Africa gateway for the slave trade. It was controlled by a Sultan from Oman until recently.
I thoroughly enjoyed the spice tour. A young Zanzibaré man generally accompanies you, in addition to the tour guide. The young fellow brings flowers and spices, leaves to smell and fruit to taste, and makes amazing baskets and hats out of the Coconut leaves.

The second day I went up Island on a boat trip to 'swim with the dolphins'. That was a trip highlight. Our small boat would approach a school of dolphins as close as it could, and we would jump over the edge with scuba gear, and swim toward them. During one foray a mother and baby were curious about me and let me get so close I almost touched them. They then swam off and led me toward a school of 15 or so dolphins. It was magical!

It is important to note that Zanzibar is 99% Moslem, and fairly conservative, so women should keep this in mind when selecting travel clothes. It would be a nice combination to spend a couple of days in Stonetown, which is a fascinating and historical place, and a couple of days up-Island at a beach resort closer to snorkeling and diving. I stayed at the Tembo House Hotel[8], which I found absolutely charming- a former residence of a wealthy trader that has maintained the Arabic architecture (and the Moslem prohibition on alcohol). It appears to be the best value for money in its category. It is half the price of the famous Emerson and Green[9], less than the Serena and considerably more interesting. But do your souvenir shopping in Dar if possible- much cheaper.

Tanzania is increasing in popularity, and so prices are also increasing and availability decreasing. Package tours may be cheaper to organize from Nairobi. Masaii Mara Game Park adjoins the Serengeti on the Kenya side of the border, which means tours from Nairobi can cover both parks; Zanzibar package trips are definitely cheaper to book from Nairobi. All in all it was a remarkable (but not cheap) vacation, with a great diversity of experiences.
Kenya
For game parks, Maasai Mara has the best game, and Amboseli is beautiful with Mt. Kili.
The Mt. Kenya area is gorgeous and I'd recommend the Aberdare Country Club and the Ark (combined places around an hour apart; the Ark a lodge built over a watering hole).
Then for the coast, Jadini is a reasonable hotel on the South Coast,
Diani Beach,and Lamu is certainly worth seeing if you can do it.

We stayed at the Galu Sea Lodge (Diani Beach- about an hour from Mombassa)
Hugh and Magdalena Rule are the delightful managers.
galusealodge@hotgossip.co.ke
cell- (+254) (0) 734 63 23 37

Travel Agent: Daniel at Maniago Travel (+254) (0) 20 444-9461 Cel: 0733-22 94 84


Animals we saw in Tanzania Game Parks:


Of the Big 5:
Elephant
Lion
Cape Buffalo
[and Cheetah- not one of the Big 5, but rare to spot]

the little 5 (I made this up)
Dwarf antelope (Dik Dik)
Thompsons’ Gazelle
Mongoose
Marita lizard
Baby baboons


And herds/groups of…
Giraffe
Hippo
Wildebeest
Zebra
Impala +harem


And…
Ostrich
warthog
reebuck
waterbuck
Bushbuck
Baboons
Jackal
Hyena
Wild boar
Colobus monkeys
Vervet monkeys




[1] Marangu Hotel, Kilimanjaro
email- marangu@africaonline.co.tz
They also equip for Kili treks
Africaonline is also a good website for travel info
[2] TCDC, or the’Danish’ mstcdc@mstcdc.or.tz ph (+255) 27 2553472
[3] Ngare Sero Mountain Lodge: (+255) (0) 27-255-3638
ngare-sero-lodge@habari.co.tz
www.ngare-sero-lodge.com
[4] Wonders of Creation email: info@wonderfultours.com Simon or Edger
[5] Dotcom Moyo Hill Camp (Paulo William Moyo) ph (+255) 27-275 4104
email kiran@dotcomsafaris.com

[6] Usambara Company, Active Safaris: gonnah2003@yahoo.com ph (+255) 748-696731
[7] Mullersmoutainlodge@yahoo.com ph (+255) (0) 27 264-0204
[8] Zanzibar: Tembo House Hotel, email- tembo@zitec.org www.tembohotel.com $95 usd for a double room
[9] Emerson and Green: emerson&green@zitec.org anything@emerson-green.com www.emerson-green.com $165usd per double room

Flying Pygmies and Electrical Storms in Dogon Country, Mali

Flying Pygmies and Electrical Storms in Dogon Country

Aug 5-8, 2004
I write this while sitting on my thermarest chair on the mud roof of a small ‘campement’ in a Dogon village in Mali. Dogon country is (deservedly) a UNESCO world heritage site. The Dogon built their houses, granaries, and worship places high up on the steep edge of the cliffs of Mali. The cliffs or ‘Falaise’, rises up dramatically for a 200km stretch out of the sahelian plains of southern Mali.

Beside the small mud houses and granaries, one can see very small structures with windows- some so small they could be large bird nests. These tiny places were alleged to be the homes of the Tellem people (pygmies), who were displaced by the Dogon and fled to central Africa. Tradition also claims that the early Dogon had magical power, and could fly, or transmit their bodies from plain to cliff. Otherwise it is an extremely inconvenient place to live!

Dogon wise men called ‘Hogons’ lived in these cliff dwellings. Once they were chosen, they would go up to live in the cliffs and never come down again. The Hogon could only eat food prepared by a virgin girl, and they were not allowed to wash. According to Dogon mythology, a snake- sacred animal for the Dogon- would come each night and lick the Dogon clean.

The Dogon still live in villages that dot the top of the Falaise, and along the base. They still make their houses out of a mud and stone mix.

The mosques in this part of West Africa have a unique and stunning architecture. They are constructed with the same red earth as the houses and granaries. Soft edged cones surround the walls and lead up to a central spire in a pyramid shape. Large pieces of wood sticking out of the walls facilitate reconstruction after each rainy season.

Typical of Sahelian West Africa, the village people greet visitors graciously. Children with the most engaging smiles play freely around the village, women continue in an unending flow of exhausting work, and old men sit under the Togu-na to pass the time of day.

The Togu-na is a low structure with large rocks or beautifully carved wooden posts supporting a low thick thatch roof. This is where the Dogon elders pass judgment on village disputes. An example of traditional West African mediation practices, the low roof means that the contrary parties can’t stand up, and so they are physically constrained to discuss rather than to fight.

At the charming campement at the base of the cliff, we were treated to a late-night Malian jam session. Malian music is the root of American blues; it still produces some of the best music in Africa. This soirée was lead by an awesome blues guitarist and accompanied by jembé drum, whistle, and a traditional stringed instrument that was once a goat.

One night we stayed in a village on the top of the Falaise. The village is built on a high, flat rocky projection with steep cliffs on three sides, and a rock peak on the fourth. This location provides a 300 degree view of the cliffs and sandstone pillars across the ravine. A wild electrical storm came in the night we were there. I took my thermarest chair and sat alone in the dark outside the village on a huge sandstone slab, and watched the storm slowly gather force in the deepening night.

Lightening started soundlessly in one darkening corner of the sky, and swiftly spread to surround us. Ragged flashes came from all directions, and for brief seconds would light up the whole sky, revealing the craggy sandstone rock formations and peaks close by. In between flashes the world was completely black. After a half hour of this spectacular light show, the audible elements joined in. Thunder started a slow tympanic grumble in the distance, then came a howling strong wind carrying dust from the Sahel, and finally, with a sense of relief, crashing rains. In my head the orchestra played full blast.