Hope to see you there!
I am really quite cross.
During the last few years of working
with the three great libraries of Timbuktu I used to put up a ‘manuscript of
the week’ on the Facebook page I created
for the project www. https://www.facebook.com/ELITTOMBOUCTOU
This was in order to show what is found
in the manuscripts- because most of the time people are not aware of the
content of these documents- they just believe what they are told, i.e. that the
manuscripts are a fount of all wisdom, and that it is possible to find every
subject matter in them. This is something of an exaggeration. They are very
interesting for many reasons, but the large majority of them are copies of
canonical Islamic texts, or often talismans or recipes for various forms of ‘maraboutage’.
To me, who is not an Arabist, the subject matter nevertheless became known to me in quite some detail because when we were working at Djenne in connection to the British Library, I had to translate the descriptions of each manuscript’s subject matter, which had been entered by the Djenne archivist in French. This was something which I really enjoyed. It brought the manuscripts alive for me, and made the work seem all the more interesting and worthwhile.
One recurring problem during my 12 years
of working with the manuscripts of Mali has been the reluctance of the
manuscript owners to publish anything online- this is of course a problem when
the project’s aim is to digitize and make available to scholars online the
contents of the libraries!
However, that hurdle has been successfully
crossed and the projects continue. Nevertheless, here we are again, up against the
same old problem: we have been told to stop the publication on our Facebook page online of the Djenne
manuscripts: https://www.facebook.com/DjenneManuscriptLibrary
where I have published over the last year or so, images and descriptions of the
Djenne collection which is being digitized. And every time we publish on
Facebook we make sure that we do it with the consent of the manuscript owner!
And now, last July, a conference was
held in Bamako, organized by UNESCO, at which the representative of the Djenne
Manuscript Library was asked to cease the Face book publications! Asked by whom? This remains something of a mystery to me, but I have been told that the concensus of the assembled grandees was that we must stop.
No one said anything during our three years publications on Facebook of the Timbuktu manuscripts!
And what exactly are we told to stop? Who
has the right to tell the Djenne Manuscript Library that they should not
publish on Facebook?
It is almost entirely a question of images from Qur’ans with beautiful calligraphy, or handsomely illustrated Dalā’il al-khayrāt (Prayers upon the Prophet.) which have, as I said, been admitted for publication by their owners! I can only guess that our lively presence on Facebook is making others jealous?
Here are two examples:
"The manuscript of the week comes from the Traoré 23 family.It is an exegesis of the Qur'an from the 19th century. The pale writing is the quotations from the Qur'an, the black sections contain the commentary. It has many marginal annotations in Ajami- Bozo and Songhoy, two main languages of Djenne.
تفسير الجلالين
Tafsīr al-jalālayn. Exégèse du Saint
Coran"
جزء من المصحف الشريف
Djenne continues to delight with the
beautiful manuscripts that the population keeps bringing in to the library.The
manuscript of the week is another lovely 19th century Qur'an from the Yaro
family.
The 'poulets de chair ' on the other hand have never enjoyed any happy village days. However, they are not battery chicken, and as is shown in the picture above, behind Mamane, they are able to enjoy a certain amount of scratching around freely amongst their peers...
And those ones, above, are the type that everyone are trying to 'get into' as a business proposal. It is true, it is possible to make money raising chickens in Mali especially in the Bamako area, for the Toubab hotels and guest houses as well as for the ever increasing affluent Malian city population.
When Keita was alive we tried it. Keita wanted to make some money on the side of his hospital employment and invested in chicken farming in Segou- it was an unmitigated disaster. The first lot arrived on the bus and were all dead on arrival- the hardships of the road had killed them. The second lot arrived alive, but were dead by the morning- they had been put into their pen which had been disinfected rather too enthusiastically and the fumes from the bleach killed the chicks during the night. And so it went on. If you want to deal in chickens, you need to know what you are doing.
This is exactly what Maman thinks he knows- or rather he knows someone who knows what to do. He will keep his job at the Sleeping Camel of course, but he wanted to invest in a venture run by a nice old Malian chap that I met when I was there last March. He has been raising 'Poulets de Chair ' for many years and has an excellent track record. Maman's brother-in-law has just done three 'cycles' with him-that is to say: one cycle is the amount of time from the arrival of the chicks to their sale- about 60 days.
Mamane and I have now gone into business together and I have put up enough money for a 'cycle' of 300 chicks. I did this at first just to help him- but who knows- it may become a proper business? Inchallah it will!
It was once more an UNHAS flight- United Nations Humanitarian Air Service and our destination was the troubled city of Gao, in the out-of-bounds northern territories of Mali. It had taken many months to arrange this visit and we were staying at the UN Headquarters- a rambling desert of prefabs where more than a dozen different nationalities are housed, making up the security forces in this, purportedly the most dangerous UN mission in the world.
Our purpose was to meet up with the Kounta family and see their manuscripts in order to decide whether it would be worth starting a project here. No one else has attempted such a seemingly daft idea before - it is virtually impossible to move anywhere here without heavy security and travelling in armoured vehicles.
But our project in Timbuktu has now come to an end. Columba wants to explore new possibilities here- we are still operating in Djenne, and that will continue for at least the next year. The ancient city of Gao, the seat of the Songhai Empire- of course we would be able to find interesting treasures here!
Because of time and security restrictions we were unable to visit their library, and our meeting took place at the Governor's Residence. This charming and welcoming southerner was called General Moussa Traore, like the long serving erstwhile Malian Dictator. The General promised to lend us any help we needed for any future visits, and also potentially for transporting the digitising material. We were unable to see more that a few manuscripts, but there is probably no doubt about the quality and quantity of this family collection's manuscripts. Everyone seemed genuinely pleased that we should have made the effort to come.
We had all met a couple of year previously in Timbuktu, below!
Sitting here alone in my tenth - and last day - of quarantine. Various representatives of the UK Gov. have been keeping me from feeling lonely by phoning me every day, asking me what I am up to, and making sure I am not doing something illegal. I did not realize I was not allowed to go for a walk until Day 2, when I was taking my normal hour stroll around the neighbourhood. 'Hello' said the government person on my telephone. 'Where are you? I replied that I was out for my walk and was told I had to go straight home or I would be fined.
So here I am. I have done my two required expensive self-administered Covid-19 tests and sent them off. The first came back with 'Unclear' as a result, telling me that I might have to quarantine for another ten days. I told one of my government friends who called that there was no way I would do that. They could go right ahead and arrest me. My government friend was sympathetic but firm. Hopefully tomorrow the second test result will come back negative- I have been vaccinated!
And meanwhile the lovely Prince Philip has left us. I always had a massive crush on him...The poor Queen- what must she be feeling now-
I remember what it felt like in the days after my Keita had died. There is that outraged feeling that everything is going on as normal in the world. How dare the grass need to be cut, how dare the tube trains keep running? how dare people go shopping and prepare meals and even laugh as if nothing had happened? And the shocked realization that I even laughed myself, and was able to talk for about two minutes before remembering once again the awful truth that HE is gone and will NEVER come back.
That is why that Auden poem is so wonderful- the Funeral Blues- because it understands that outrage of ordinary things daring to affront by carrying on as normal- and also because it understands that beautiful things, like stars, are irrelevant- the sun and the stars keep on shining but it is for all the others, it is no longer for me.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;For nothing now can ever come to any good.W H Auden
I arrived back in London on Wednesday after two intense weeks in Mali. This time Father Columba Stewart, my boss, joined me, escaping his Minnesota monastery for the first time in a year and a half.
Our Italian colleague Maria Luisa also joined us and we ventured north together for our three day visit to Djenne, driven in an airconditioned 4x4 this time. We stopped at the splendid San Mosque on the way north:
Visits to some of my favourite villages around Djenne followed – we looked at family manuscript collections in the glorious little mud village Gomitogo (first two pictures above) where the best calligraphers are found:
we visited Imam Yelpha in Djenne of course, who spoke about the security situation which is calm around Djenne as it has been for some years now- not in a small measure due to his own quiet and discreet mediation between the different factions- jihadists and Donso hunters who are strong around Djenne.
‘My ‘ calligraphers had finished the ‘Dalai al Kayrat’ (Prayers upon the Prophet) which I commissioned a year ago- it is beautiful and I took a lot of pictures which will be used as promotional material for a little trial venture- will we be able to get commissions for more? I am hoping it is the beginning of a calligraphy studio in Djenne...? This copy was now bought by Columba for HMML- it will perhaps be displayed in the Museum in Minnesota.
Two of the Timbuktu workers had braved the road south and came down to see us bearing the last hard drives from our Timbuktu Project which is now officially closed. The last evening we all had a meal at the Campement Hotel, and guess who prepared our meal? My old chef Papa of course, and he cooked us Boeuf Keita again...
In two days the cataract team lead by Dr. Faira Keita will once more arrive in Djenne for their yearly week of operations on the village population- as always sponsored by the generosity of Pelle and Nanni – my cousin and his wife. The dates did not quite coincide, so this year I could not be there for the opening ceremony- always dedicated to my Keita who worked for many years at the Djenne hospital. A minutes silence is held for him. This year it was the 5th anniversary of his death.
I visited the family of course- in Bamako and Mai in Segou. Moussa, Keita’s eldest son came with me to the cemetary where I gave him Keita’s bracelet which I have worn since he died. It was always destined for him, and when I saw him crying at the grave I took off the bracelet and gave it to him.
And then the customary hikes around the hills of Bamako with Karen with whom I stayed the last few days. A lovely trip...
Arriving in London a labyrinthine obstacle course at Heathrow with hour long queues and umpteen papers and online forms that had to be filled in- interviews by officials and extreme patience required. Travelling now is not for the faint hearted... finally got through and have been called at home by someone from gov.Uk checking up on me already. Have to stay 10 days in self isolation. Nevermind. It was worth it!
It is because I, like so many others, feel there is not much to talk about in this monotonous lock-down world we have inhabited for so long now...
but of course there is plenty stirring, and some of it may be the closing of one chapter and the opening of another, but who knows? My Mali adventure is still not quite at its end: I am leaving in just over a week for Bamako, and will once more be winding my dusty way up to Djenne- this time in the company of my boss Father Columba the Benedictine from Minnesota, with whom I have lived through many adventures in the past- let's hope this trip will be more peaceful than our first trip to Timbuktu together in August 2017- see beginning of this blog.
This time we are only going to Djenne- the work in Timbuktu is being wrapped up finally, since we have now digitized all the manuscripts in the three great libraries there. But the work in Djenne continues- at least for now!
The picture above is taken on the day Keita and I first visited the land which were to become Hotel Djenne Djenno in April 2006. The picture below is my last breakfast on the day I closed the hotel in 2017. On the 26th of March it will be five years since Keita left us- I will be in Bamako then. His last days still feel as fresh in my memory as if they were yesterday. My life since then has seemed like a waiting room, where I have passed some pleasant time, but waited for what is to develop next. And now, maybe there is another chapter- and it may be just around the corner- it has to do with a plan for another little guesthouse, or a pensione rather, and it might be in Italy- the plans which were vague are shaping up a little more firmly, and if all goes well I will travel back to London via Italy at Easter time where I will return to Siena... but more about that later if it works... meanwhile the Italian is coming on apace- doing an online intensive Italian course.
More from Mali... then from Italy if they will let me in..!Ciao!
It was an eerie affair this time, because the glorious Musikverein concert hall, normally filled with the world's great and good- or at least the richest-was empty. But at the same time there was ZOOM participation from a multitude of nations: a more democratic crowd, representing the 50 million or so spectators world wide. Riccardo Muti ended the concert with some well-chosen words to the world's leaders about the healing power of music and culture.
This event is of course a vortex of unashamedly old fashioned Europe: those glorious Viennese waltzes played normally to all those well-healed white people- the cameras always having trouble seeking out someone to represent all the other races in our diverse world. But nevertheless the message is always a joyful one which rings out to all the world, and no New Year's Day would be complete without it.
The penultimate offering of the orchestra is always an der schonen blauen Donau: the Blue Danube Waltz by Johann Strauss. This particular famous Waltz has particular significance for me because it reminds me of Mali- yes, strangely, it brings a very specific memory of the New Year 2006 when my friends and I was on that holiday which came to change my life. The setting was the Bani river:
We had hired two pirogues and their pirogiers to paddle us between Sanouna by Djenne and Mopti. The journey took three days and two nights, and included New Year's Eve, when we made a fire on the shore after we had pitched our tents. We then sat down to try and entertain ourselves until twelve. That is quite a long time, since the sun sets about six thirty. So we decided that our midnight would arrive an hour earlier...We were an international bunch: Andrew from the UK, Pia and Anna from Sweden and Andreas from Austria. We all now performed whatever we could remember of the songs and poems of our respective languages, we played games etc. At our designated 'midnight', a large casserole was placed on my head, and twelve gongs rang out as the casserole was banged with a large wooden soup ladle. Once I had recovered from this, Andreas started singing An der schonen blauen Donau, as he bowed before me in an old fashioned European way and we began to waltz on the sandy shore of the Bani, the others soon joining us, all humming away with the full moon above us- even the pirogiers joined in as we taught them to waltz!
Therefore that particular waltz, at the beginning of a New Year, brings happy memories of the beginning of a very different year, which brought with it the beginning of my new Malian existence. I am hoping this year might bring something lovely too...?
A Happy New Year!
Andrew below is wearing his mask for a moment as a means of identifying the year for future reference... there was the Queen's speech- lovely I thought- then prezzies for every one- before we were supposed to play those obligatory games- but the Charades were dropped by the way-side this year, as instead we all sank happily into watching a great double bill of Graham Greene stories- both famous classics: first Brighton Rock (the 1948 version of course), then the Third Man.
It was interesting to see these two in succession, because they both feature two great Greene heroines who love their villainous men with a sort of unconditional, religious fervour. In the case of the angelic Rose, she is able to remain with the merciful delusion that Pinkie loved her; while Anna, on the contrary, knows fully the depth of Harry Lime's crimes, she even understands that he didn't love her. It doesn't matter to her. Her rejection of Martins when she walks past him without acknowledgment in the final scene is sublime...
After all a lovely Christmas in these strange times!
And here we are, having our picnic, in Chalfont St. Giles where the pub to the left behind us no doubt would have been able to offer us that roaring fire, but was not able to let us in of course. Amersham, the last outpost of the Metropolitan line, was the beginning of our 9mile (15 k) circular walk, which included visiting (the outside of) Milton's house where he is said to have finished Paradise Lost.
It was our book club outing. This book club is a very elastic and tenacious affair, able to mould itself around whatever circumstances is thrown at it. For two and a half years we were 'the Dantistas', who nearly managed to get through the Divine Comedy at my flat on Wednesdays, but when only half of Paradiso remained we were stopped in our tracks by this pandemic. Something lighter was needed, and we read Love in the Time of Cholera while our meetings became either ZOOM or mutated into socially distanced picnics in the summer months.
And then our reading material became even shorter- now we read a short story a week, working through a series of the genre's greats: Flannery O'Connor, Katherine Mansfield, Raymond Carver etc. And sometimes we even read one we have penned ourselves! But, we will return to Dante once day...
And that brings me back to that dear subject again: I will be leaving for Mali and Djenne at the end of January, inchallah, to see 'my' people in the library in particular. The project is still running and I speak to them every Saturday morning on WhatsApp. Until then I spend most of my days trying to put the Djenne memoir into shape...on the second draft now.
When my friend Neville came to visit me at Hotel Djenne Djenno in 2008 he brought me the novel 'The Queen's Gambit' by Walter Tevis. as a present because he knew I loved the game. I loved the book too, and read it twice. So I was very pleased that it was turned into a Netflix series.
This new collective chess fever reminded me of a time towards the end of my life in Mali, and I thought it may be worth re-posting what I wrote in August 2016. I called the Blog post
'Chess Psychosis:'
It was a lovely sunny day yesterday. It was also the last day before England closed down once again in a Covid lockdown. This day needed to be celebrated and have all its possibilities squeezed out from it!
I was excited by yet another invitation by David for a music event- this time it was a concert by the City of London Symphonietta at Southwark Cathedral- they were to play Haydn's London Symphony at 2pm. So I thought I would walk.
The route from Ladbroke Grove to Southwark Cathedral is almost a perfect diagonal trajectory from north west to south east central London across some of the city's loveliest territory: I crossed Hyde Park where I saw my destination in the far, far distance: the Shard, that beautiful spike of a sky scraper where I was treated to a great dinner by my Minnesota bosses almost exactly a year ago, is just next to Southwark cathedral and seen faintly here in the centre of the picture above the Serpentine.
I was worried about time and walked fast. I had never walked this way before but wanted to find out whether it was possible to walk all the way by the river- and of course it was: it has been possible since 1977, when the Silver Jubilee walkway was put in place to celebrate the Queen's 25th year on the Throne. http://jubileewalkway.org.uk
When I passed the 'Wobbly Bridge'- that's what people have been calling the Millenium Bridge since it had to be fixed and stabilized when it first opened and 'wobbled' in 2000- I had about half an hour to go ...
I passed the Globe and there, suddenly it was! Southwark Cathedral with the Shard keeping it company in safe social distance...It had taken me almost exactly 2 hours. I thoroughly recommend this walk for an experience of London!
I have been blessed with being invited to yet another heavenly performance: Yesterday it was the first time that The Royal Opera House opened its doors again since March, allowing first and second year students of their Jette Parker Young Artists Programme to perform French, Italian and Russian songs - Liszt Poulenc, Strauss, Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky ...Dear David took me and we had the best seats in the Linbury Theatre downstairs at the ROH- but then David is of course a Music Critic Extraordinaire and here is his revue:
https://www.theartsdesk.com/opera/meet-young-artists-week-recital-linbury-theatre-%E2%80%93-four-big-personalities
I was childishly thrilled and proud to see that he took one of my suggestions on board-I am not an opera aficionado and normally don't have anything interesting to contribute-I am just happy to tag along... but this time I thought the Russian mezzo/contralto Kseniia
Nikolaieva (above) was full of drama and had the look and sound of Azucena in Il Trovatore and said so to David. And he wrote in his revue: "Hers is a big voice unleashed with enough power to tell us
that with careful handling she will undoubtedly go where her compatriots
Olga Borodina and Ekaterina Semenchuk have already trod, in roles with
very specific voice-type requirements like Verdi’s Azucena in Il trovatore." (!!!)
And meanwhile, back in Mali, another sort of song takes place as Maouloud has once more been celebrated. The festival commemorating the birth of the Prophet Mohammed is the most important of all in Djenne and I was often invited to the Fatias, or the Koran recitations held by the great Djenne families which I knew through the Manuscript Library. Sometimes the melodious chanting would carry on all night and would hear it drifting across from the many Koran schools in town as I lay under the mosquito net in the warm night...
And on this Saturday, the 24th of October the Coliseum opened its doors once more, and I was there again with my old Swedish friend Pia for this first performance - 'socially distanced' of course with only about one third of the seats available and filled. And once more it was Mozart- a performance from Opera students singing a selection of famous arias - the love duets at a safe distance...Nevermind that. The grateful audience was loving being there again. The enthusiasm was infectious and the bravo's, clapping and whistling made it all sound like La Scala Milan.
God knows we all want some reason to clap and cheer now as the light is fading and the temperature is sinking while the Covid count is rising and Pandemic fatigue is settling down on London.
But life carries on regardless in it inexorable way and the habits that have taken hold in during these strange months continue- such as my Chess Sundays with my friend Ralf from the German embassy- he kindly lets me practice my German on him, but he is less kind when it comes to the chess and does not let me win very often. Here is last Sunday's game, black to move. I am white and I have got him on the ropes for once- to be continued next Sunday.
Dreams and plans of moving to warmer climes or to the country still figure but nothing is decided yet- I have put my flat on the market but I am beset by feelings of uncertainty and a the future is just a huge question mark. Nevermind. I guess it will be OK. Or will it?
Other good Mali news includes the lifting of sanctions against Mali by the neighbouring ECOWAS countries who have recognized the fact that the Junta leaders have conformed to demands: there is now a civilian interim president, Bah Ndaw, while the coup leader Assimi Goita has contented himself with a second position as the vice-president. In addition, the transition will take 18 months rather than the 3 years first proposed.
And moving on to Europe and other matters altogether, I was most intrigued to read in the Guardian yesterday morning that a large treasure of homo-erotic drawings by Duncan Grant have been handed over to the Charleston Trust. These drawings were supposedly kept under a bed for decades, out of view because of their 'private nature'. The picture below illustrates one of the drawings shown in the Guardian. There was also another, which involved four men- it was more explicit in that it showed erections. It was quite a beautiful drawing in its composition, but it was very difficult and intriguing to try and understand what was going on...
I have always loved Duncan Grant's work and I am the lucky owner of this small drawing below.
I keep walking, and walking....
Da