Vive la France!

Such seems to be the public sentiment here in Bamako.  French flags flutter from moped handlebars, and are draped across the fronts of verandas and the backs of cars and trucks.  France now has 1,400 troops on the ground, and the first 100 non-Malian African troops (out of a projected 3,300) arrived yesterday.  It seems the latent threat of neocolonialism is less pressing than the very real threat of a terrorist takeover of the country.  In any event, but official and public sentiment here is very much pro-French.

I'm not going to attempt to recap the situation in Mali; if you're interested, the English-language website of France 24 is good for in-depth reporting, and the BBC for accurate summaries of the latest news.  Bamako is rife with rumors of suicide-bombers and terrorist sleeper-cells, but that's nothing new, and none of the major international media have picked up on anything.  So, either everyone's being hysterical, or the authorities are hushing things up, or the news hasn't made it out of the country yet, or a combination of all those things.  There's lots of police checkpoints now, though I haven't been hassled.

Thanks to all those who sent letters of concern or encouragement.  I feel safe in Bamako, and have no plans to leave in the immediate future, either for another city or region within Mali, or for elsewhere in the world.  My studies of traditional Malian music continue apace, to the extent that I've recorded myself playing a traditional song, Apollo, on the kora.  My timing and tone could definitely use some work, but that's what practice is for, and I'm happy with the ornaments and solos I've come up with on my own.  Essentially, my teacher taught me the basics of this song (its chord progression and basic melody) and I came up with all the rest.  I've still got a ways to go, but I'm starting to get a pretty good feel for the technical side of being a kora player.  I'll be curious to see what you all think...



Other than that, not much to report.  I'm doing well, and plan to be back in the States in May.  Questions, concerns, greetings, and gossip can all be sent to me at waraden.diabate@gmail.com.  Have a nice weekend!

La Saison des Fêtes

Wandering outside early this morning, I was once more the only person in a t-shirt in a crowd of Malians in parkas, sweaters, and overcoats.  The temperature drops into the low 60's F this time of year, which is polar to Malian sensibilities.  I remember being in a village once in January, and awaking to find my host dressed in a full-length green felted wool overcoat, military style with a double row of brass buttons and epaulets.  Nothing like material culture to bring home the realities of globalization.  He really liked the jacket, though; not only was it warm, but he'd also found 20 euros in an inner pocket, which confirmed it for all time as his lucky jacket.  

I've received several emails expressing concern about the political situation here in Mali, so I thought I'd say (write) a few words about that.  This latest intrusion of the military into civilian politics was greeted with indifference among the Malians with whom I've spoken (admittedly, not a statistically rigorous sample size).  Cheick Modibo Diarra (hereafter CMD) did an equally poor job managing public opinion and his relations with the other 2 members of Mali's ruling triumvirate, interim President Dioncounda Traoré and Capt. Amadou Haya Sanogo.  Rumors were rife of problems between the 3, and CMD gained a reputation as spendthrift after Malian journalists reported that he and his revenue stayed at the Ritz Carlton in NYC when he spoke at the UN.  This was particularly corrosive, as it added to the preferred narrative of the career politician class, i.e. that CMD was completely out of touch with the realities of life for the average Malian.  From the beginning, CMD has universally been known in the Malian press as "space man" and "interplanetary navigator."  Even those who found the rumors ridiculous realized their power; The Prince would probably be a boring read for most Malians, who grow up with the firm belief that your reputation is based partially on your actions, but mostly on whatever people say about you.  Malians are nothing if not political realists, and CMD was, in the general view, ineffective.  Even if the rumors weren't true, in the grand scheme of things, many Malians believed them, and that effectively sapped his popular support base, as evidenced by the complete lack of rallies, demonstrations or boycotts, even by nominally opposition political parties.  The interim president appointed a new prime minister within 24 hours, and that was that.

So much for the latest political turmoil.  Bamako continues as before, grinding away slowly, the cold weather and lack of money slowing everything down.  Everyone is gearing up for "le 31," New Year's Eve, a major Malian holiday (or at least a major Bamako one).  Chicken, pigeon, and Guinea hen prices are already on the rise, and the neighborhood streets resound with the whistles, screeches and sudden explosions of fireworks as children clear out last year's stock before rearming later this month.  It has certainly added a certain piquancy to the daily aural background of children's laughter, the hawking of ambulatory street-merchants, passing scooters, and endless chatter at my teacher's compound.  No doubt in another 2 weeks the sight of a dignified Malian man of 40 years old visibly flinching when a pétard goes off 3 feet behind him, then turning and haranguing the group of wildly laughing children will grow old, but it hasn't yet.  Respecting personal dignity is incredibly important in Malian social relations, and it's always interesting to see who can get away with what.  Foreigners, children and crazy people have a lot more leeway than typical Malians.  Still, as in any culture, people are always testing the limits of social permissibility, and much time is spent over tea discussing just who has offended whom during the last week.  

On a less theoretical note, I've been playing kora as frequently and quickly as possible (the latter aided by large quantities of Malian tea), and my fingers are definitely getting faster and stronger.  I've posted some pictures of my new kora below.  It's not perfect, but it sounds better than it looks, and it plays well.  If any of you need a professional-level kora, let me know; I know a guy.  

See you next week.  

The master checking his handiwork

  

My kora is on the right, Toumani's is on the left

Pictured with optional carrying strap

Hand-carved posts and extra-thick rawhide tuning rings

The Cool Season

Greetings from Bamako.  The weather's getting cooler here, people are settling in for the dry cool season, and the wind blows all night long, sometimes.  Good kora-playing weather!

I'm settled back into my old schedule of study with my kora master, Toumani Kouyaté.  In my absence, he's made me a custom kora similar to his own.  An extra-thick gourd and cow-hide, well-fitted tuning rings, geni wood (the preferred of all Malian kora makers) and super-strong American nylon strings from an anglers' supply store, courtesy of Mr. Chapman Ballard (thanks, Bootie!)… I'm really happy to have a professional-quality instrument.  I'm not sure I'm a good enough kora player to merit it yet, but I'll grow into it, and I'm unfortunately way too used to nice instruments by this point in my musical career.  I'll post a picture when I get the chance.  

I've been studying for two days with Toumani, then resting for one.  This schedule seems to be working well; I'm not getting burnt out, despite the intense amount of playing.  In another week or two I'm going to start diversifying, adding in some n'goni lessons and jamming more on the banjo.  For the moment, though, my technical abilities are coming along as quickly as I'd hoped. 

Sadly, the general situation in which Mali finds itself is considerably less rosy than my specific one.  Public confidence in the government is at a low.  Today's the second day of a general transit strike protesting increasing cost of living expenses.  The police have also been particularly bad of late: I've been stopped much more often in taxis during the last two weeks than on the previous trip.  Lots of political infighting: bulletins and flyers posted everywhere downtown, and nothing in the news but posturing amongst the various political parties, rebel and terrorist factions, not to mention the Malian military…  The musical situation is also pretty grim since the departure of les blancs: some of the clubs have kept their doors open, but a lot of the club-goers are gone and don't seem like they're coming back anytime soon.  On the other hand, I was happy to hear the familiar sound of marriage corteges last Sunday; marriages, street parties, and baby naming ceremonies are at least keeping some musicians from starving.  

All in all, Mali's as fascinating as I remembered, as poignant, ridiculous and real as it was the last time I was here.  As always, waraden.diabate@gmail.com's the way to reach me.

Round Two

Hello, faithful readers and new ones!  I'm starting up this blog once more in preparation for my next trip to Mali.  I'll be leaving tomorrow for another six-month stint of intensive, mostly one-on-one instruction in traditional Mandé music in Bamako, Mali's capital.  I'm better prepared this time around, I think: my car is finally in-country and through customs, so theoretically I should be able to drive myself around, I have my own apartment, and I should be able to study with all my old teachers, so the essentials are set.  I've also got a new kora waiting for me that, I'm promised, is of the finest quality.  Mostly, though, I have a much better practical understanding of Mandé music than I had last year, and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to improvise in the Malian style before the end of this trip.  Plus, I've upgraded my field-recording gear with a stand and a windscreen, so there should be some higher-quality recordings up on the blog later this year.

I might try to post some video, as well.  I've stayed away from recording video in the past since Malians, no less than anyone else, act entirely differently when they're being filmed.  Given that I've spent a lot of time and energy trying to become more Malian or Malian-seeming (learning Bambara, entering into a traditional master/apprentice relationship, spending endless hours drinking tea and discussing world politics), I'm leery of anything that will label me as an outsider.  As I said, we'll see; video can be a powerful explanatory and documentary tool, but I'm not sure it's worth the time and loss of intimacy, particularly as I'm not in Mali for anything other than personal study, not as a grad student or ethnomusicologist.

Many people I've spoken with who know about this return trip have been concerned about my safety, vis a vis Mali's current political situation.  I can respond to this in a couple of ways.  First, I'm not particularly thrill-seeking: if I thought there was a good chance that I would be in physical danger in Mali, I wouldn't be going.  I know and speak with many Malians, both in Mali and without, and read a lot of analysis, both in the world media and on Malian news-aggregator sites.  My considered opinion is that, provided that I stick to Bamako and the south of Mali (including Kita and Sikasso, the only other two cities I'm considering visiting), I should be in no more danger than I ever have been in Mali.  Second, while it is shocking to see the huge territorial gains that Islamists and Tuareg separatists have made in Northern Mali, it's important to remember that this area is sparsely populated, and its inhabitants (those that are left, at least) are widely separated and at the mercy of small, well-organised armed groups like those occupying the region right now.  Bamako alone has more than 2 million inhabitants, or about 1000 inhabitants for each militant by most of the estimates I've read.  Mali's main army base at Kati is only 15 kilometers away, while the "front," if you want to call it that, is over 480 kilometers from Bamako, so if I'm going to be in Mali, I think I'm in the safest place I can be.

I realize that none of this may be overly comforting for some of you reading this, but we're just going to have to see what happens together.  Hopefully you'll all continue to learn about my adventures through this blog, and not through CNN breaking news...

Finally, I should mention that I'm not undertaking this trip under the aegis of the U.S. State Department or the Fulbright program, but on my own.  Mali has temporarily been removed as a Fulbright grant location, so I've been working all this summer to get together the necessary funds for this second trip.  That said, I'll be doing essentially the same activities I did while I was a Fulbright Student, just better, hopefully!

Oh, I've also been going through the 80+ hours of field recordings I made last trip, and I'll try to post one next time so there will be more music and less blather.  Excelsior!

See you in November!

Belated greetings from Virginia.  This blog's been semi-dormant for a few months now, and will be for the next few months, too, I'm sorry to report.  Sadly, Mali's current political situation is in many ways as poor as it was when I left a month and a half ago.  The North of the country, including the regions of Kidal, Gao, and Timbuktu, are all in the hands of either Tuareg separatists or Islamists, who alternately skirmish and forge short-lived alliances.  Hundreds of thousands of the North's inhabitants have fled, either South into government-controlled territory, or into neighboring Niger, Burkina Faso, or Mauritania.  In Bamako, the political situation is still confused.  Many soldiers still seem loyal to Capt. Sanogo, who headed the March 22 coup d'état and has, despite his numerous protestations to the contrary, yet to give up his significant political power.  The ostensible head of state, interim-President Dioncounda Traoré, is still recovering in Paris from wounds received in Bamako at the hands of angry protestors in a move seen by many international observers as orchestrated by Capt. Sanogo.  Some cynical political observers have suggested that Traore is seeking to wait out the ongoing political crisis in the comfort and safety of his hotel room.  The highest-ranking civilian official in Mali is thus Prime Minister Cheick Modibo Diarra, a former NASA employee and former presidential candidate (as was Dioncounda Traore).  Mr. Diarra has had little success as yet in reigning in the excesses of Capt. Sanogo and his men, nor in dealing with the crisis in the North.  Given the political crisis, the local regional power broker, ECOWAS (the Economic Community of West African States), has been threatening with increasing vigor to send in a 3000-member military intervention force to deal with both the Northern and Bamako problems en même temps.  The backdrop to this tragedy is the ongoing Sahel drought, variously projected to leave 10, 15, or 20 million in need of food aid.  Many aid organizations have been forced to pull back from the North of the country due to banditry and the outright theft of goods, not to mention the danger of kidnapping and extortion.

As for me, it seems unlikely that I will be returning to Mali under the auspices of the Fulbright Program.    The State Department is understandably cagey about sending U.S. citizens into such an unstable situation and at this point I don't think that funding will be made available for me before the end of this year, when the funding will be cut for my year's group of Fulbright students permanently.  As such, I'll probably be returning to Mali on my own dime, something I hope to do in early November.  Obviously, I won't be going back if there's civil unrest in Bamako itself at that time.  However, I had always planned to return to Mali to continue my musical studies even after the full 9 months of my Fulbright term; having only been there a little more than 6 months, a return trip is even more crucial to me now.

So, there you have it.  As always, my thoughts are with all my Malian friends, musicians and otherwise, who are living with this uncertainty on a daily basis.  I can only hope that Mali's crises are resolved as quickly as possible.  In the meantime, I'm listening to and playing Malian music every day, and I have every intention of returning to Mali this Fall and spending another 6 months.  The blog will be in hibernation until then.  As always, I can be contacted at waraden.diabate@gmail.com.  Have a great Summer!

Back in the USA

Three flights and 30 hours later, I'm back home in Virginia.  I'll post some thoughts on the ongoing coup and Mali's music scene tomorrow.  Right now, I'm going to go sleep off the jet lag.

Thanks for all the kind wishes and comments.  -Seth

A Bana (it's finished)

...and thus ends, at least temporarily, a noble experiment in cross-cultural relations.  After repeated calls from staff at the U.S. Embassy here in Mali, I've decided to leave the country.  Possibly I'll be finishing my grant in the Gambia, or else I'll be heading home to the States.  Things are calm in Bamako for the moment, but Mali's borders with its major trading partners (Senegal, Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso) have all been sealed to commerce and fuel since yesterday.  This hasn't caused any problems yet, aside from a rise in food prices, but the end result could be catastrophic.  It's unclear how much of a fuel reserve Mali has, but the taxi drivers I spoke with today thought about three days at the outside (the most optimistic report had it at a week).  Another problem is that the majority of Bamako's electricity production is dependent upon diesel-powered plants, which will also run out of fuel, barring the re-opening of the borders.  Mali has also been isolated from the rest of the FCFA community, meaning that little to no money is flowing into Mali, at least through the banks.  I managed to find a working ATM today, but they're becoming scarcer and scarcer.

In short, the refusal of Captain Amadou Haya Sanogo to relinquish power and reinstate civil authority in Mali means a continuation of the embargo on Mali, not only by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), but also by the U.S., which has cut all military aid, and France, which has cut all of its aid, including humanitarian projects.  The French, English, German, and Canadian Embassies have already advised their respective citizens resident in Mali to leave the country; to my knowledge, the U.S. is the last major foreign power here to do so (aside from China?).  This was apparently triggered by Capt. Sanogo's announcement today on the national television station, ORTM, that he would not relinquish power until he had tried the former president, Amadou Toumani Touré (ATT), for "financial misconduct."  In other words, no time soon, if he has his way.

It's unclear (there's that word again) how long it will take for Capt. Sanogo to leave; it could be tomorrow, or a month from now.  Unless he does so within the next few days, or unless some junior officers take it upon themselves to remove him as he removed ATT, who in turn removed Moussa Traoré in 1991, I will be leaving Mali.  I've had a wonderful time here, met dozens of proud, skillful musicians, and heard (and played) a lot of great music, but it's time to go.  I hope to return later in the year, even if Fulbright funding isn't available, provided Mali can find some solutions to the ongoing rebellion in the North, the coup d'état in the South, and the rampant corruption everywhere.

I had not entertained serious thoughts of leaving Mali until today, and it's with great sadness that I've decided to do so.  Having spoken with many Malians over the past five months, I've heard first-hand how frustrating the corruption in almost every aspect of Malian society has become.  For many people I've spoken with, the rebellion in the north was the straw that broke the camel's back.  The coup was welcomed by many people I spoke with, at least at first; anything that could break the cycle of corruption was seen as as positive, even something as dramatic as a coup.  Now, however, we're starting to see some sad results.      The musicians I've worked with, in particular, will be hard hit in the months to come: with the vast majority of the expat community departing Mali, and the political upheaval and overall money problems of the country, their major sources of income have pretty well dried up.  The Malian music scene has survived tougher times than this, but it's still painful to see so many professional, highly-trained, dedicated musicians deprived of any chance of regular income.

My thoughts and sympathies are with the Malian people tonight, and particularly its musicians.  I can only hope that better times will soon come.