When we got off the bus, 19 hours later, it did feel we were at the end of the world.
It was quite spectacular where ever I looked. Sanga is atop a high rocky plateau. Wherever you look you see slabs and slabs of irregular rocky ground on top of which is settled the huge mud house village. It is apparently one of the largest villages of the area. But the most beautiful part is the incredibly numerous quantity of baobab trees separating the different sections of the village. I love how they have managed to cultivate all sorts of cereals and vegetables on top of the rocky ground. The whole plateau which looks more like a valley is so bright with the contrast between the light brownish color of the mud houses and the lush green of the baobabs and the cultivations.
As we walk through the village, at any time there are a bunch of women and little girls carrying huge tanks of pots filled with water on top of their heads. The village has no electricity not running water. So for the water supply, even though a few NGOs and such have built some tube wells at different specific points of the village, women prefer their ancient habits of going to the numerous wells and haul water up little bucket after little bucket, risking to fall in at any moment.
After we spent a lot of time saying hellos to villagers all over, bought some warm bread, some veggies and a carton of water bottles, we finally made it back where we had left our bags, I call it the honey house because it smells strongly like honey, to rest, nap and clean up. At last. I just couldn't function any more.
We slept a long time, pretty much until mid afternoon. Then a light lunch, just like my first few days in Indar or when Angelina and I were doing the Camino, a sardine sandwich. It's OK, we made up for it at dinner.
Well rested and with something in our stomach, we walked out and went around other parts of the village. Petit Dogon showed me the sacred parts of the village and explained to me their significance. Very interesting and beautiful. I am fascinated by the mud houses, so smooth and well and simply designed. They are just beautiful. The. Village kind of reminds me of the Ait Ben Addou in Morocco. The mud village in the desert, a UNESCO world heritage site.
When we got to one of the ridges, we saw that on the other lower side of the plateau, across from the little eater stream where the kids are having a blast swimming and splashing, it was market day. Our luck!
So we went ahead to the market to buy some more veggies and for me to see what this market is like. Beautiful is what it's like! Women dressed traditionally, sitting on the floor or on wooden stools, and spread between mud and brick huts. A lot less abundance than in any other markets I have ever been to. But only women, not a single man was selling anything on the floor. Men here usually are the ones handling the little shops and the women then ones selling things in the streets. So since tourism is totally dead in the region, I was the only foreigner around, hence a bit of the cheer of attraction. It keeps on bugging me a not now, after such a long time on the road. Even though these people have seen quite a lot and still see from time to time, they still stare as if it were the very first time they see a white person. At first, when I started my trip I was getting used to it, especially since I dis go to places where few whites went to, but now, I am getting a bit tired of it. It's not that it makes me feel uncomfortable but rather that it annoys me. Oh well...
So we hung around the market for quite a while. It was quite big actually. I bought Amadou a cold soda, and we left, walking down by the water stream and following the people leaving the market carrying things on their heads zig zagging between the baobabs and climbing up the rocky floor ridge. Such a spectacle!
This place often feels unreal, as if it had been designed by computer for the purpose of a sci fi movie.
We got home, where we would sleep, by sun down. At last no more walking around. This village is just so hot, and shade seems rare. So since there are so many and long salutations to make all the time, often in the sun, it just gets exhausting after a while.
The plan was, Amadou would sleep in the room (it was so hot, no clue how he would do it), and I would sleep on a foam mat on a bed frame outside, under the stars and a mosquito net.
Now that we were back home, we cooked, mostly me hehe, some yummy pasta with an onion and sweet potato sauce. Delicious and exactly what we need. Some heavy meal to make up for the past 24 hours. It reminded me a lot of the Camino. (Yes, I keep on thinking about it every single day) And so while Amadou gathered wood branches and coal to make the little fire, I prepared the food to be cooked. We finished cooking under the stars by 9pm or so. It was delicious, and so relaxing. Just us, one little solar powered light bulb, and no one else in the little yard. It felt a bit strange though as I was expecting us to spend every meal with his family. But apparently Amadou prefers his space. Why not. I was to tired anyway. And the starry context was just as amazing as it would have been to chit chat with the family.
It was so serene. We were in the darkness. No light at all in the village. A bit like at Iwol. We could guess we were surrounded by other houses and families because we could hear the chatting of each family in groups around us here and there.
We finished dinner, had some hot tea, and now, off to sleep. We both need it very much.
Tomorrow is "la fete", the end of Ramadan, so the whole village, well the whole Muslim world, is supposed to celebrate, each village in its own way. Should be interestimg.
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