Yaya tells us stories under the starry skies -- of kings and shepherds and good wives....

We have set up our bush camp. Tents are pitched – snorers making sure they are far enough from the 'non-snorers' (or so they think) so as not to elicit a few sharp remarks over breakfast, a delicious dinner enjoyed, dishes washed and flapped dry and everyone lazing about and relaxing on the grass mats. It is a dark night and the stars form a magnificent canopy above our heads.

We had left the relative comfort of The Sleeping Camel behind us and, almost with a sense of having escaped from the confines of comfort and luxury, we are on the road again. Tonight, on our way to the ancient mud city of Djenné and the Dogon country, there was a sense of excitement as we set up our first bush camp in more than two weeks – too long a time. The location is not the most beautiful – and probably not the safest, as we have pitched our tents in a dried up dam, the surface underfoot deeply cracked dry clay, but with ominous thunder clouds on the horizon and even the occasional strong smell of rain carried in on the pre-storm breeze. We take our chances though – we are tired after a long hot day on the road and besides, the high walls of the dam offers a perfect screen from the nearby road and its accompanying noise.

Yaya and Assikae, Abdul and Ebrahim have set up their tents by the side of the truck and I went over to them to ask a few of my endless questions about what have seen and what we were to see the next day. Yaya offered me tea (Malian the is the normal very strong and very sugared tea brewed in a small pot and kept over the coles, drunk from small glasses, and hathe is what Yaya was offering – even stronger and sweeter – almost a black syrup) explaining that I must have three glasses as the first is Death, the second is Life and the third is Love – there is death waiting for each one of us, there cannot be death unless there was life as well, and there is no life unless there is love. Over the little tea ceremony, I asked my questions and Yaya and Assikae giae me the answers – when I realised that these were explanations and stories probably everyone in the group would love to hear as well. So I asked them is they would be willing to share some of their stories with us. They agreed and we moved over to the rest of the group to take our places amongst them on the mats. Complete darkness, Only stars above us. Only the smell of the thunderstorm on the distant horizon. A small group of friends somewhere in Africa listening to the stories passed down through countless generations, told and retold and retold again. In his deep timbered voice and beautiful English, Yaya began...


The city of Djenné is very very old. It was already there a long time before * the Faluni man came from the North, down through Timbuktou, set himself up in front of the Bozo king's palace, at the entrance of the market, and started telling people about Islam. Everyone who came to the market heard his message. They heard his stories about the wonders of Islam, about the greatness of Allah, about the goodness of his prophet, Mohammed. Every day he sat there at the netrance and told his stories. People stopped and listened. Some came back the next day to hear more. Many asked questions, and slowly more and more people of Djenné converted to Islam. The Bozo king heard the stories every day. But he did not want to convert. Eventually almost everyone in Djenné had converted to Islam, but their king still did not want to convert. The man went to the king, every day, and told him more and more stories about this new religion that most of his people had already accepted. But the king could not be moved; he was animist, as his ancestors had been since the beginning of time, and he had no need of a new religion, a new god. So, one day the Bozo king had had enough and he devised a clever plan to get rid of the Faluni man for all time. He said to the Faluni man “Here is some gold. Take is and go away and do not come back to the palace to try to convert me.” The Faluni man took the gold home and put it in a safe place and then sat down to try to think how he could convert the Bozo king.

In the mean time, the Bozo king had a thief brought to him and he instructed the thief to go to the Faluni man's house, to steal the gold he had given him and to go throw it in the river. The thief went to the house of the Faluni man and stole the gold, ran to the river and trew the gold into the river. When the Bozo king was sure that the god was gone, he called the Faluni man to come to the palace. He said to him: I have changed my mind. You can stay. But I want the gold I had given you back.” The Faluni man went home to fetch the gold, only to discover that the gold had disappeared. He was distraught. How was he going to return the gold to the king if he no longer had it? He had no idea what to do. He was desparate. Being the honest man that he was, he told the king that the gold had disappeared but that he will pray every day for the gold to be returned to him so he could give it back to the king.

However, back in the river, there was a huge Capitaine fish ** that came across this shiny shimmering gold lying on the bottom of the river bed. He swam closer, nudged it this way and then that, and then swallowed the gold. But, because the gold was heavy in his stomach and he could not move fast, it was not long after when he was caught by the nets of a fisherman, hauled out of the water and taken to the market. It was Monday, and like every other housewife in Djenné, the Faluni man's wife went to the market on that day to buy their food. She decided to buy a beautiful Capitaine fish for her husband, hoping that the delicious meal would make him feel a little better. She bought the heaviest fish the fisherman had, took it home and cut it open to prepare it for her husband. You can imagine her surprise when she found the gold in the stomach of the fish! Oh joy! She rushed to the entrance to the market to find her husband and give him the gold she had found. The Faluni man immediately took the gold from his wife, turned around and went to the Bozo king. “Here is the gold you had given me. You see how great and good Allah is. I have prayed and prayed to Allah, and today he returned the gold inside the Capitaine fish that my wife bought at the market.” The Bozo king responded to the Faulin man: “I do not have a fetish as strong as this god of yours. Never have I seen such a miracle to happen when I make sacrifices and pray to my fetishes. Come inside and tell me more about this great and good god of yours,” and he sat the Faluni man down in the palace and for many days listened to all the stories about Alla and his prophet, Mohammed. And after a long time, the Bozo king of Djenné converted to Islam and promised to build a mosque greater than any other mosque – right there, at the entrance to the market ***, and to this day there is a Faluni man sitting at the foot of the steps of the mosque, at the entrance to the market, telling anyone who will listen how great and good Allah is.



* Archeological evidence proves that the city of Djenné existed as far back as 300BC
** The Capitaine fish is a large river fish in Mali, an excellent eating fish.
*** The mosque was first built in 1280, as promised, after Koi Konboro - the 26th king of Djenné - converted to Islam.

Djenné is home to 50 madrassas (Quranic schools) for citizens of the city as well as 40 other madrassas that are open to everyone. Almost all the boys are taken in by an immam at an early age and instructed in the Quran until the age of 15. These boys have to find food and donations for their board and lodging as well as to feed their teachers. One sees little boys with large tins walking the streets in all Malian towns. These boys as 'garibou' - Quran students whol live with a 'maribou' or immam -- they are not begging as such, but rather just hoping for your kindness, no matter how small.