The Adoration of Trees

I pass the Sankio village sign and it is yellow, but I remember him saying to turn left at the yellow sign past the Sankio sign. I continue, hoping I will eventually come to that sign. I have already biked over 12km in the early afternoon sun. As I ride, I pass women returning from the bushes carrying loads of firewood atop their heads, children herding cows near a pond, large diesels on the road to Burkina, and mounds of cotton on the side of the road that I wish was snow. I come to the yellow sign and as I turn my tutor is right there behind me on his moto, I break for water before taking the small dirt/sand path that leads into the village I came to visit.
In December this village has a two day ceremony, the first day involves the killing of many chickens. The animists and muslims that still practice some traditonal fetishes take two chickens into the bush (kungola) to be sacrificed. They say their wishes/prayers and hand their chicken to a man that slits the throat, draws blood on the tree, and tosses the chicken on the ground. People then watch to see how the chicken dies and when it stops the position will tell the person whether or not their prayers/wishes will be answered.

"next chicken"

I could only go so far, I was warned to stay back. Because, I am not a married woman nor have any children I must stay back and not get close to the area where the men killed the chickens. Also after the fact I was there, my tutor said feel free to take many pictures, you are safe the dugutigi (village chief) is here, there is no problem.... (hmm k why would I not be safe?) "This is traditional things if you came alone they will kill you". Interesting I feel so much more relaxed now, I think I'll take more pictures of this interesting ceremony. Afterwards we returned from the bushes into the village to visit people and relax under the shade of a hangar while two men played the drums and sang. I was then convinced that I had to return the next day, because there will be much more drums and a balafone. The dugutigi said to be in village at 8 am so I wouldn't miss any of the drumming and also I would get there before the drumming got too sloppy due to the consumption of millet beer. After another quick tour of another part of the village I was on my way back home, I made it just before dark.

Another area in the bush, tutor and dugutigi, I was told to stay back

Friday morning. I arrived in the village half past eight. We waited drank tea, I nearly fell asleep a few times. They offered me a recliner, I declined. Crazy people came, a women shoved a tire at the crazy man's head shooing him out of the concession so he wouldn't bother me. The dugutigi was postponed due to an unfortunate event in the village, a man's cows destroyed another man's crops. Just after 11 am he arrived and we sat a little while to chat. In the distance I could hear the drummer's approaching....

Drum line approaches

They approached and I listened and watched as we sat. I was surprised that the crowd was mainly just a bunch of old people, but I guess they are the ones keeping this tradition alive. The men played the drums and people passed around a variety of miscellaneous recycled containers holding millet beer and serving them in gourd bowls. I was offered to drink but declined for fear of catching a water-borne illness. I am not entirely sure how they make the drink or if the containers they use have been sterilized (unlikely). One day though I'd like to make a batch of millet beer. I'll shadow an animist or christian in village someday to figure it out. The rest of the day we spent walking around the town, followed the drummers as they paraded through another area of the village. Greeting people as we went.

Mali cotton

I got to meet a man making cotton cloth it was totally awesome to see the cotton stretched across the concession to his work station. I followed my tutor to his host family's concession for lunch and then was back on the road for home to share pictures with my host family. I think it is important to have a host family in as many villages of Mali as possible so no matter where you go you'll have a place to rest.

"I ni baara"