Dogon Dream

Camera panning out, view of the cliffs in the background as the sun sets and the horse cart begins to trot away, roll the credits and cue the applause. Your standard ending for most epic movie endings, right? How lucky then, that I got to experience this phenomenon as I left God's gift to Mali, the Dogon country. Perhaps I'm being a bit unfair, the divine Power that be was kind enough to grant Mali a plethora of amazing sights, and somehow lil ole me managed to see a fair share of them; the Niger river, the Djenee mosque, etc.
But I digress, this post is about the Dogon country, a place bigger than a stopping point on my hectic vacation. Rather, one of those places that you just have to see to understand. I had never thought that tourism and traditional cultures could exist so close in tandem but, for the moment, the Pays Dogon is managing to market its incredible natural beauty in a beneficial way, both for the indigenous inhabitants and for those lucky enough to venture out here.
The Dogon chose the cliffs of the Bandiagara for its beauty after traveling around central Mali for many ages. I, for one, don't blame them. One would be hard pressed to find a country more awe-inspiring and spirtual in nature. From the cliffs one sees out over the river (dry for half of the year) and beyond that what is left of the "forest", as the desert in the far distance ever encroaches on the natural rock faces that are these people's homes.
Within the cliffs are hidden more villages and fairytale landscapes just as suitable for a J.R.R. Tolkien novel as for a Louis L'amour western. It was hard to not break into a sudden game of cowboys and Indians as Baba, our guide and friend, took us through what are his stomping grounds and his livelihood.
We waved by to our new friends from our horse cart as the driver began to pull away, the marketplace and other guides came out to wish us on our way. The cliffs stayed with us for sometime but eventually, as we continued, they sank beneath the horizon, following the setting sun and leaving the horse and us in a moonlit landscape with the wind whispering in our ears. Baba's story of the Tellum, the forest people who had lived here before the Dogon, was still fresh in my memory. "Why did they leave?", I asked. "Because we cut too many trees down." And still they cut. Even Baba himself has noticed how small the "woods" are now compared to when he was a child. It was hard not to notice the sand blowing in the wind and the few remaining bastions of skinny trees as we approached the more arid hinterland of the Pays Dogon. The Tellum have already left after trying to teach their lesson, with hope the Dogon will not follow.