Festival au Desert in a Land of Almost No Return

January 4, 2007. Nine months of managing a hostel of 100 beds in Dublin, Ireland was enough... and I headed to Africa completely unprepared. Months of ignoring friends' emails, pressing projects, learning French, opening my guide book could not be resolved in the two weeks before I left.. especially since this was over the holidaze in Dublin and everyone conspired to either have me out partying or have banks, pharmacies and shops closed when I needed them. The only thing I managed to do before I left was spend some small time online and find Val on the Lonely Planet thorntree. -Another solo traveler who was on the same plane from London into Bamako as I. We met over the internet and telephone and agreed to find each other at the airport.

And this made things incredibly easy. I met Val at the airport and then met Kerstin from Germany and several other people while we waited for the next plane in Casablanca.
My first introduction was stuffing bags, guitars, people and alcohol onto and into the car of a contact Val had in Bamako and then the driver having an argument with the gate keepers of the airport because the gate stopped working after he put the money in. This at 4am or so..
We get to a house where we can sleep (thanks Val!!) for 3 hours which makes 10 hours for me all together over the last three days and we're up again to see Bamako. First thing I notice in the supermarkets is you can get decent deodorant, shampoo and hair conditioner here.. things I struggle to find in Dublin.. We then went to the Grand Mosque and the fetish market where you can buy heads of reptiles and skins of endangered animals... buying is not recommended, but these are also difficult to see in Dublin..

Luckily the next day we didn't get up in time to catch our bus to Mopti and in showing up an hour late, it's actually ready to leave. Again I'm incredibly lucky as my friend Silvia who helped me arrange visas when we were in Dublin and who got me onto the volunteer list for the organization of the Festival au Desert happened to be staying at the same hotel as my new found friends. Practically crashed into her even, as she sped up on the back of a moto and we sped into the lot in a taxi.
Silvia and her friend Marie have arranged a boat up the Niger River to Timbuktu for us, (I've been so indispensable at planning so far haven't I), and up we go for three days on a small motorized boat called a pinasse. Wow that was great. We saw loads of birds, - hawks, egrets, herons, cormorants, kingfishers and green bee eaters. We even saw monkeys and hippos and they were posing pretty as you please out of the water! It's a pretty cold time of year here so we're wrapped up all day in our turbans and wooly blankets and camping on the shores at nights with sand and stars and it's just beautiful! I loved that boat trip. Even went for a swim in the Niger one evening. We stop at villages and kids come running sometimes to shout "cadau, cadau, tubab! Cadau!" Meaning "give us a gift whitey" basically... but many times just to grab our hands and totter along with us grinning. The girls pull at my hair and rings and they all yabber away at Silvia, Marie and the Swiss group we're sharing our chartered boat with. Me, I can't speak French at all because remember all that studying I did before my trip along with the planning?? well yeah.





We arrive at Timbuktu, well not.. but at the port for it and we wait.. 2 little red finches come visit us in the boat for a while and don't seem scared at all.. they must be used to this waiting.. We get a ride to Timbuktu and the rendezvous point for the festival volunteers and wait some more.. And then all pile into 5 four wheel drive vehicles. Everyone darting in and out, Tuaregs yapping away with each other, guitars and bags being loaded and unloaded. People get tired of waiting in cars and pile out again, then suddenly we're actually leaving for Essakane and people get piled in again. The faffing factor here was pretty high.. this became quite comical later. At the edge of town all 5 vehicles come to a stop, people jump out and back in again, bags, people, musical instruments get moved again from one vehicle to the next and then we all set off again with exactly the same number of people and bags and guitars.. just all in rearranged places. Phew, glad we stopped to sort that out.. We're still all crammed in so I really don't know what changed.. Then we stop again. In. Out. Yap yap in Tuareg. French. People shouting why have we stopped??! Back in. start up again. Then it's prayer time and all the Tuaregs jump out and bow down in the direction of Mecca. Ok. Back in again. It gets dark. Our car gets stuck in sand. The guys in front of us stop to ask if we're ok.. on a hill so we get stuck in sand again and our driver seems to have said something along the lines of "WELL WE WERE OK!" Off we go. Another vehicle gets a flat tire. People try to get out, but now there are krum krums everywhere.. these evil desert prickers that stick in skin and clothing for the rest of your life!! Some of the vehicles move on. Another one gets lost... And all this in only 70 kilometers of sand track between Timbuktu and Essakane. Who could have known that so much action could be packed into such a small track?

We arrive after dark and stuff is not ready. The decision is made to sleep in the large artist's tent. An evil overweight French shrew who is working with VIPs apparently takes a disliking to that and has a shouting match with some of the organizers but she loses this battle. She turns out to be someone who all of us wonder 'why is this one here involved with something fun when she is just obviously unable to have fun?'

Disorganization reigns supreme for the entire festival and poor Silvia and Marie are worked to death by the press. The people who we're working for are quite nice and are trying to fill in gaps left by the people they are working for. Through it all I am blessedly useless not speaking French. Don't know how this happened really because other English speakers were put to work with English speaking artists, but there just weren't enough to go round I guess and shucks.. I get to spend my time watching the festival or hanging out backstage and onstage. Poor me.



The festival itself was spectacular even if disorganized. Saw and met some great artists. Habib Kiote. Bassekou Kouyate. Afel Bocoum. Tinarawin. Liam and Paddy from Ireland! And 2 guys who used to be in the String Cheese Incident.. a band I'd seen years ago.. who were now playing in Pangea Project. One of them is Korean. I can't speak French, but I can have a chat in Korean. So many more artists. The music was fantastic all 3 nights. On Saturday Tinariwen played.. a family of about 18 Tuaregs and they were really good. I never met them though, just ducked under several who were having heated arguments with the door guy. There's me, 'excuse me' ducking under a bunch of shouting men with swords.. interesting.

The festival outside of the music. -The Sahara is harsh. Hot during the day. Cold and wind driven sand at night. Sleeping outside is no for I'll get buried even though I try the first night as there's not enough space for us all. Even in the tent we're covered in sand by morning. The krum krums SUCK, but the Sahara is all the time beautiful even with soft sand ruined by these. The Tuaregs with their nomadic lifestyle packed onto the backs of camels are fascinating. At one point when I am sitting in the dunes in the back with Kerstin (from the plane and who I found again at the festival) and several other new friends, a group of about 15 Tuaregs, men and women, come sit down. They're crammed into a space suitable for maybe 5 people huddled together and using us as a wind break. In their flowing blue and indigo robes and nattering away in Tuareg which sounds like Arabic a bit to me, they somehow make me think of bats, clinging there in the dunes if the world was turned upside down, gravity working opposite to usual. There's something wild and animal like about them. It's amazing to be seeing them here. Talking to them in my broken French. Watching them set up tents and work with their camels. And woah I've stepped off a boat and into all those National Geographic photos that always captivated me.

After the festival on the Friday night, friends and I went into the Disco Tent and that was just hilarious. Picture loads of men jumping up and down to electronic music in blue robes, turbans and swords attached at the hip.


I've attracted a lot of attention here in Africa traveling as a solo, single white female. Most of that I know is just people looking for better opportunities, but the Tuaregs are different. They actually seem to be curiously cracking on to me. Because I'm tall as well as look different?? I don't know. But I had several instances of Tuaregs who seemed to want to meet me and take me into their world as opposed to the rest of the African guys cracking onto me who want me to take them to mine. So at one point in this disco I was grabbed forcefully by the arm and just levitated about 20 feet left by a little tiny exceptionally strong man in turban and robe and suddenly I found myself in a circle of about 18 of them. I panicked. Couldn't help it, just darted away again. I didn't want to be rolled up in a carpet and tied onto a camel to be carried off into the desert.

At another time, one talked to me for a while and then wanted to retie the turban that was draped around my neck. I let him and when doing that he cupped my jaw in his hand. That's all. Harmless. But the strength and agility in these people showed even in that. I was really fascinated by them. And when he gave up and left he did what all the rest did. Just disappeared. He melted into the sand.



Habib Kiote, the last act on the last night, played until 4:30am. So again, no sleep for Chris for about 3 days you see. For getting out of Essakane, things again are interesting with broken vehicles, no show vehicles and all us volunteers piled in the sand save those who must must must get to airports such as Silvia and Marie. I jump in Kerstin's ride as I don't want to live in the desert for the rest of my life...

And once in Timbuktu, we hitch a ride to center.. with 2 guys from Bavaria, Germanland. Stefan and Nickolas. We end up traveling with them for a few days. The 4 of us trying to get food at the restaurant in Timbuktu was the first hurdle... they were busy and an hour and then another goes by. Who comes in then but Habib Kiote from the festival stage night before. We have a chat, tell him the show was great and then Kerstin the wise one, tells him he'll really be our Rock Star if he puts a hurry up on our food. He appeals to the kitchen and low and behold the food arrives. So there. The way to get things done in Mali is to get one of West Africa's biggest musicians on your side. Excellent.