Mali. Life, Death, and Dancing in a Dogon Village

Mali. Life, Death, and Dancing in a Dogon Village

Living in isolated villages near Mali’s Bandiagara Escarpment, a West Africa people known as the Dogon are known for their unique architecture and religious traditions including a masked funeral dance called the dama. The Bandiagara Escarpment is located within a semiarid region known as the Sahel which separates the arid Sahara Desert to the north from tropical savanna grasslands to the south. Geographically, the escarpment is comprised by three natural regions: the plateau, the cliff face, and plains surrounding the escarpment. Arriving in the 15th century, the Dogon constructed adobe dwellings in crevasses high along the edge of the cliff face as protection from hostile neighbors and slavers. With improved security following the arrival of the French in the 1890s, the Dogon relocated their villages to the base or top of the escarpment.

Dogon life is centered on agriculture. Along with millet, the Dogon plant sorghum, rice, groundnuts, and onions. They also tend domestic animals ranging from sheep and goats to donkeys, chickens, guinea fowl, and cattle. Although retaining elements of their traditional religious beliefs, most Dogon are Christian or Muslim. Today, about 600,000 live in 700 settlements, some with fewer than 500 residents. Although tourism is an important source of income, political unrest has caused visitor numbers to decline since 2012.

Our drive from the river city of Mopti to the Dogon village of Banani took three hours on a rough, dirt road. Surrounded by agricultural fields, Banani lies near the base of the escarpment. Structures in Banani have been built in close proximity. Single story adobe houses, many with courtyards surrounded by stone walls, are interspersed with square-shaped granaries, some topped with thatched grass roofs. Larger “male” granaries are used to store millet and other foods while the smaller “female” ones hold items used by women. Interspersed among buildings and courtyards are massive baobab trees.

The term “Dogon hotel” is something of a misnomer given that the place where we were scheduled to sleep didn’t look like a hotel. Inside a courtyard we were shown an opening that led to an open-air restroom. We were then directed to put our suitcases inside a hot, windowless room with a metal door that contained two bedframes topped by thin mattresses. On seeing our reaction to the room, our guide suggested that we sleep on the building’s rooftop. Without hesitating, my companion and I carried mattresses and blankets up a staircase to the flat roof. The unobstructed night sky was filled with stars. Although there were no insects, we were serenated every few hours by noise from cattle, goats, and chickens. With each perceived threat, the clucking, bleating, or mooing noises moved across the village like a slowly dissipating wave.

When I arrived for breakfast, our guide informed me that my companion was wandering, unescorted, through the village. With a worried look, he explained that outsiders must be extremely careful not to disturb a Dogon’s fetish (personal shrine) that may look like a bundle of sticks and feathers. As I was explained that he was probably taking photographs, my companion returned and was promptly admonished by our guide. The first stop on our walking tour of Banani was a ceremonial area where boys make the transition to adulthood. Our guide showed us paintings on rock walls that represented circumcisions and drawings of figures important within Dogon folklore such as Lebe, an ancestor said to have returned to earth as a snake. Before departing Banani, we visited older adobe structures on cliff walls above the village. Constructed with wooden supports and flat roofs, the abandoned buildings resemble Anasazi dwellings found in the U.S. Southwest. Higher up on the cliff face were mud walls that enclosed tombs. Later that day we drove to several other villages. Hearing our approaching Toyoda 4x4, children appeared, some shouting “toubab!” (meaning “white people”). Whenever we met children, we distributed ballpoint pens as gifts.

The highlight of our visit was a ceremony called the dama. Performed in a large courtyard by circumcised men who were members of the awa (society of masks), the dama is a funeral dance that assists the deceased’s soul make the transition from the world of the living to the spirit world. Wearing brightly colored regalia, dancers perform as a group or individually with village elders watching from nearby. Wooden masks worn by each dancer represent people, animals, social behaviors, or relationships such as the connection between earth and sky. Masks may be attached to the dancer’s head using a net or held by their teeth. Music was supplied by a drummer supported by singers whose words were repeated in chorus.