A Rare Journey Into Mali: West Africa’s Time-Forgotten Kingdom

I was repeatedly warned that only bad things can happen in war-torn, divided Mali, in West Africa, where a Caliphate controls much of the north and the military government the south.

But I didn’t heed the well-intentioned advice. And I’m glad I didn’t.

Instead of perils, I fell into a great – and strangely dichotomous – adventure that seemed to deport me back in time. At times, I felt like a character in a Rudyard Kipling yarn.

When I met with the blind King of Bambara, an aging potentate and scion of a once-great state whose kingdom now is merely the independent mud village of Segou Kora (Old Kora), I knew I had entered a time warp.

But let me start from the beginning…

Beyond Timbuktu

Mali is legendary, mainly because of Timbuktu. Few places spark the imagination and evoke exotic mystery just by the name. However, few people actually know the history of the Saharan trading hub and center of Islamic learning. Or, can even find it on a map.

In 2012, the blue-turbaned Tuareg declared the independence of Awazad, their breakaway Caliphate in the north. This includes Timbuktu and the famed city of Jenne.

Then heavily armed militants arrived in the north (called jihadists, terrorists, or bandits, depending on who you ask), escaping Libya after the fall of Muammar Gaddafi. War for territorial control, of course, ensued. Although there is largely a stalemate in the north now, battles still flare up.  

So it is no surprise that tourism ground to a complete halt in Mali, hence the many warnings I received. Going to the north is a suicide run, while only the most intrepid venture to the south.

But there is another Mali, hidden away from the maddening politics. Here, the visitor is disarmed by what he sees and the welcome he receives.

They are places without cars or motorcycles, dirt lanes instead of roads, electricity or running water and houses built of mud bricks.

Here, everything is performed manually, and the traditional economic, political and social mores remain virtually unchanged. They are the forgotten villages of Mali. Today, only those in the south can be visited safely.

Guided Rituals

Physically, they are not far from the chaotic, crumbling and polluted cities and towns, yet the cultural difference is stunning.

Entering the tiny hamlet of Siby, my guide, Amadou Cisse, immediately embarked, with almost everyone we encountered, on the de riguer ritual that shapes social relationships. The ritual consists of exchanging a rapid-fire series of greetings and pleasantries (questions such as “How is your wife?” “Is your family doing well?” “How is your health?” etc. that often last 10 seconds.

This ritual opened the door for me. I was introduced, and each person shook my hand (also a habitual ritual in Mali), nodded, and smiled. I had been vetted and accepted.  

Being led by a guide is literally the only way to go. If you try entering the villages on your own, you will be looked upon with suspicion and shunned.

“They will probably send for the police and you will be arrested, they will fine you and maybe even detain you,” explained Ibrahim Kassoque, my guide in the area around the city of Segou. Ibrahim was one of the local guides that Amadou engaged to ensure an even smoother entry into individual villages.

Tossing Peanuts

Peanut production is Siby’s main activity. At every turn, families were separating nuts from shell pieces in flat baskets by tossing the peanuts in the air. They laughed, posed for photos, and asked Amadou questions about me.

Invariably, they asked me to try working the baskets. In all the villages I visited, they seemed to get a kick out of putting me to work. There was more laughter as I spilled nuts.

Then they had me work the shell thresher (the shredded peanut shells are used as animal feed and to strengthen mud bricks). I was better at that; it was much easier. They were surprised to see me there, telling Amadou that no foreigner had visited in many years.

Charmed by Djoulafoundo

Several miles on a rough, rocky road from Siby is charming Djoulafoundo, where we were overwhelmed by excited, screaming children pleading to be photographed and squealing with glee when we did.

Our local guide, Mahdi, negotiated our way on the narrow lanes through village life. This involved sorghum being cooked over wood fires, women gathered in small groups talking, fishermen returning with the morning’s catch on a string and young girls fetching water via receptacles balanced on their heads.

Bucolic Bambougaudje

The happy hamlet of Bambougaudje is where wishes are granted and the idyllic traditional village lifestyle reaches its zenith. The positive vibe was palatable here, with villagers inviting us into their courtyards to see their home life, waving hello as we walked by and asking to be photographed.

The innocent, bucolic waterfront setting was the most memorable in Mali: boys leading their herds of goats and cattle to the water to drink, women washing clothes and dishes and gossiping, young men fishing with nets in the sea-green river, children running and playing.

Of course, I embarrassed myself when I was asked to try my hand at pounding millet, but it was all in good fun.

Bambougaudje is also an Islamic pilgrimage spot, as is the neighboring village of Bougouba. Pilgrims visit the tombs here of revered imams and chiefs from centuries past (celebrated by the griots, the storytelling keepers of oral tradition in West Africa) bringing offerings and asking them to intercede with Allah to grant their wishes.

Bougouba is most celebrated, however, for its 1,000-year-old mosque, the oldest in the region. It’s an early example of the whimsical, uncanny Malian architecture.

The structure is made of mud, shaped like a beehive with a pointed top, with many well-placed sticks protruding. The sticks serve as a built-in scaffolding for the annual mud recoating (mandatory for all mud structures in Mali to keep them from deteriorating away).

Meeting the King

In Segou Kora, reverence and respect for the King of Bambara permeates the simple, quiet village. His impressive palace is an anomaly from the exterior: one of the few perfectly intact and maintained buildings in the country.

Inside, however, it was in ruins, revealing the village’s true humble status. But he still held court daily in an antechamber, receiving occasional guests and, as was common among rulers in past times, arbitrating disputes among his subjects. Meanwhile, one of his sons showed us around the village for a tip.

Noumouwere is the Malian village of the gourd. Decorating them and selling them for household use and wedding presents is the economic mainstay.

Walking the sand lanes, we came upon family after family working as a team. Some cut the vine-grown gourds in half and scrape and clean them to produce a pure-white shell. Others build fires, spin wheels that spark flame and heat iron rods.

Then, the artists take over and burn designs – animals, flora and more ‒ into the gourds.

Sightseeing Sélingué and Surroundings

Cities of Mali

The dichotomy between Mali’s traditional villages and the cities and towns is an abyss. Bamako, the capital, is semi-dystopian (a cautionary tale of a city growing too fast, exacerbated by large numbers of refugees pouring in from the north). There is gridlock traffic all day, trash and debris piled and strewn everywhere and daily power outages.

Nothing is maintained, with dilapidated and broken-down buildings, dust and sand covering everything and terrible pollution, mainly from smog and soot (everyone cooks on wood fires).

Yet, it wasn’t just the villages that were enthralling. Bamako, the capital, and other cities, including San and Segou, also offer some fascinating sights and experiences.

Browse Accommodations in Bamako

Mosques and Markets

The Grand Mosque of San is a super-sized version of the one at Bougouba. The huge Monday Market of Segou – with people arriving by bus, truck, donkey cart and pirogue with their goods ‒ is a colorful explosion of activity and enterprise.

Visiting peaceful fishing villages opposite Segou on islands in the Niger River, I imagined what it must be like during the rainy season when the islands slip under water forcing the people to abandon their homes until the river subsides.

In Bamako, authentic traditional artisanry lives on in the urban jungle. In the heart of the city’s Central Market, dozens of hands-on artisans continue to ply their trade in the old ways, hammering silver, carving masks, working leather, sewing purses and garments.

On the banks of the Niger is an intriguing and massive multi-faceted sand-dredging operation done entirely by hand. Boats are being built to be used to load sand dug from the river. There are also boats arriving on the river bank that are unloaded by women via pots balanced on their heads. Meanwhile, men shovel the sand into big trucks to be used for construction and other uses.

Serious Security

I may have dismissed warnings about visiting Mali, but the security situation is serious here. The military government sees threats everywhere.

We were stopped repeatedly every day by police, on streets, and at checkpoints, demanding our papers and searching the car. Convoys of trucks and troop carriers filled with soldiers rumble down the roads.

You also have to be careful where you point your camera. My guide, at times, had to negotiate shooting something as innocuous as a historic abandoned train station, and sometimes the answer was no.

I went through more than an hour of multiple police checks, controls, and searches at the airport before departing the country.

Challenge of Change

The dichotomy between the two Malis is startling. As I traveled the country, though, I wondered if it would last because I was seeing cracks in the dike. I saw cell phones here and there in the villages, a few solar panels bringing electric lights in the evening, some motorbikes and fishing boats with motors.

In addition, villages were dotted with collapsed and abandoned mud-brick homes, implying that people were leaving for the city and the modern world.

“The villagers choose to remain true to their traditional lifestyles and not let the changes happening in Mali alter their private world,” explained Amadou. This requires remaining self-sufficient and rejecting new trends and ideas, he added.

The villages of southern Mali may eventually become endangered species. However, for now, they seem to be mostly holding out, bucking the trend worldwide.

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Author Bio: Freelance travel/food writer and photographer Edward Placidi discovered his passion for exploring the world ‒ and sampling its foods ‒ as a teenager and has rambled to the far corners of the planet, leaving behind footprints in 128 countries (so far). He has contributed articles and photographs to scores of newspapers, magazines and websites. When not traveling, he is whipping up delicious dishes inspired by his Tuscan grandmother who taught him to cook, with as many ingredients as possible coming from his vegetable and herb garden.

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