The Mali trip is nearly done. As ever, fraught with
difficulty but at the same time spilling over with precious memories and cram packed with
life...
I spent four days in Djenne, this time with my friend and
collegue Maria Luisa Russo, who is also working with the manuscripts through
the University of Hamburg. Although I may be inhabiting a fool’s paradise, I
never feel worried for my safety in Djenne: all is so familiar- my big lovely
bed is the best ever- and when I tuck myself in at night making sure the
mosquito net is fitting snugly- keeping mosquitoes and creepy crawly
undesirables out- I feel as if nothing
can touch me. I guess it wouldn’t provide much protection against a Jihadist
with an AK47 though... but somehow I just feel safe and happy in Djenne. I made
a visit to dear Imam Yelfa of course (above).
Of all my old staff Papa is doing best: he has opened a
restaurant at the place in Djenne which used to be called Chez Baba. I feared it
would not work, since there are no tourists in Djenne. But there are enough Malians
still around who are not from Djenne and who ‘eat out’, like the bank manager M. Maiga whose family is in Bamako. Papa (standing up above) provides him and others with food
every night. Maria Luisa and I took the staff from the library for dinner on
our last night. Those who have been at Hotel Djenne Djenno may recognize the
chairs and the tablemats!
But all is not safe and happy in and around Djenne- far from
it. The situation in the surrounding villages has deteriorated since my last
visit in April. The sudden rise in unaccustomed tribal fighting has multiplied
and hearts and attitudes are hardening. The ‘Jihadists’or ‘bandits’ as the
Djenne population prefer to call them, are carrying out attacks on the village
population and are preventing them from cultivating. People have been killed
while they are peacefully out sowing their fields. Therefore the villagers are
scared to go into their fields: ergo,
famine will inevitably follow next year. Meanwhile the Dozo are getting better
organized and armed- some say the Malian State are providing funds. But the population itself is raising funds
for the militia- if the state protection disappears, they will necessarily find
other means to protect themselves.
Poor Maman, my erstwhile waiter and barman and now my
guardian and bogolan worker at my house and studio, has been obliged
to get into serious debt. His mother, a possibly well-meaning but overbearing
person that forced him to get married when he was not ready, has now insisted
that he provide 200 000 FCFA so his last remaining brother in the village can buy
a gun for the family home in the village of Tabato- and support the Dozo
militia. This he has done, because he feels he has no choice. People are
wanting to leave Djenne- there is a deep, almost tangible apathy and fear in the air; into which
IBK’s electioneering visit last week seems to have made no great dent.
Timbuktu was calm when I visited- although I had to sort out
plenty of internal project difficulties- however, today I got the following
message from Halimatou, our local boss:
‘Dear Sophie, since yesterday three vehicles have been burned
by gangs of youths in Timbuktu.This morning about 9 am there was sustained rifle fire in the market and it is still going on (written 13.30 pm)The
team had started working but we decided that everyone should leave for home
because of the insecurity. We must all
pray for the city of Timbuktu.’
This fighting was also, according to Youssouf Traore, one of
our workers, a question of race: the white youths against the blacks- which
means the Arabs, and possibly the Tuaregs against the Songhai and other dark skinned people, I assume-
this is a new development too and not normal in the town of Timbuktu itself,
certainly!
And meanwhile In Bamako the 24 presidential candidates are falling
over themselves creating ever greater
election promises... here are some of them, a few viewed from the comfort of
the Swedish Ambassadorial car:
and finally, for the very last time, I spent a few lovely days with Eva in the Swedish residence. I cannot think what it will be like to come here when she is gone... but she is now leaving after the elections having spent five years here as ambassador. I could never express how much it has meant to me to count her as my friend and to have spent so many happy times with her - now and when Keita was with us and used to sit in the garden under the mango tree and drink Malian tea with the security staff. He called her 'ma troisieme femme..' God Speed to Eva in her new life in Sweden.
