Almudo Smiles
Today I am particularly enthralled with a short sequence of photos I have discovered that record a little incident in a town called Wellingara in Senegal. I had traveled north from the Gambian coast to a large African Islamic religious festival called the Dakka. It is held yearly by the Tijanniya Brotherhood. In the savannah grasslands a small city is constructed from straw for the festival. There the faithful gather from all over West Africa to pray together and hear the teachings of the grand marabout, Sheik Ahmad Tijan Bah. There was an atmosphere of miracles since the grand marabout was reputed to have great spiritual power.
I attended the Dakka under the auspices of a friend, Omar J., a devout Tijanni. Omar is on the right, below. On the left is his cousin, also a devotee, in the straw house he had constructed at the Dakka and where we stayed for several nights.
It had been arranged for me to meet the Grand Marabout and after a great many whispered conferences I was admitted to the presence late one afternoon. The courtyard was jammed with disciples, many of whom had fistfuls of currency, as offerings, in hope of miracles. I was mostly there for political reasons – the marabouts I had been working with were all Tijannis and if the Grand Marabout recognized me it would be known I had received the ultimate imprimatur. He not only acknowledged me; he shook my hand and wished me success with my work. Having achieved the equivalent of an audience with the pope I left the Dakka late one afternoon, traveling by the taxi pictured below.
As evening fell we arrived in Wellingara and the taxi driver parked and announced that we would travel no further that day. I bought a plate of rice for supper and was told by the taxi park proprietor that I could sleep in his courtyard that night if I didn’t mind sharing the space with his family (kids studying the Koran, below) since it was too hot for anyone to sleep indoors these nights.
I settled down in front of his compound to digest supper, looking out at the tranquil view below.
Our project with the almudos had been successful in that we had succeeded in helping all the street begging almudos in The Gambia to return to their villages. But I had been a little bothered by the fact that I had done this before I had photographed any of them begging in the streets. Consequently, I was pleased to see some Senegalese almudos that evening. They can be seen under the store awning at the far right of the photo above.
Like almudos generally, these were not very focused on their begging but soon noticed me since non-Africans are very rare in this part of the world.
Their begging pots are the two large tins on the ground to the right. They put them down to wrestle while they considered what to do about me.
Then three of them gathered, working up their courage to approach me.
And finally, two of them approached.
Sometimes here in our cold northern cities I wonder how I could ever have spent so long living with these children. Then I stumble on some photos like this that remind me of what these kids were like and I wonder how I can continue to live without the blessing of their presence.
I attended the Dakka under the auspices of a friend, Omar J., a devout Tijanni. Omar is on the right, below. On the left is his cousin, also a devotee, in the straw house he had constructed at the Dakka and where we stayed for several nights.
It had been arranged for me to meet the Grand Marabout and after a great many whispered conferences I was admitted to the presence late one afternoon. The courtyard was jammed with disciples, many of whom had fistfuls of currency, as offerings, in hope of miracles. I was mostly there for political reasons – the marabouts I had been working with were all Tijannis and if the Grand Marabout recognized me it would be known I had received the ultimate imprimatur. He not only acknowledged me; he shook my hand and wished me success with my work. Having achieved the equivalent of an audience with the pope I left the Dakka late one afternoon, traveling by the taxi pictured below.
As evening fell we arrived in Wellingara and the taxi driver parked and announced that we would travel no further that day. I bought a plate of rice for supper and was told by the taxi park proprietor that I could sleep in his courtyard that night if I didn’t mind sharing the space with his family (kids studying the Koran, below) since it was too hot for anyone to sleep indoors these nights.
I settled down in front of his compound to digest supper, looking out at the tranquil view below.
Our project with the almudos had been successful in that we had succeeded in helping all the street begging almudos in The Gambia to return to their villages. But I had been a little bothered by the fact that I had done this before I had photographed any of them begging in the streets. Consequently, I was pleased to see some Senegalese almudos that evening. They can be seen under the store awning at the far right of the photo above.
Like almudos generally, these were not very focused on their begging but soon noticed me since non-Africans are very rare in this part of the world.
Their begging pots are the two large tins on the ground to the right. They put them down to wrestle while they considered what to do about me.
Then three of them gathered, working up their courage to approach me.
And finally, two of them approached.
Sometimes here in our cold northern cities I wonder how I could ever have spent so long living with these children. Then I stumble on some photos like this that remind me of what these kids were like and I wonder how I can continue to live without the blessing of their presence.
posted by Benjamin Madison | 11:45 AM
1 Comments:
I love the smiling faces in the photos.
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