Under A Million Miles Of Sky: Maliki ka Ɲɛnajɛ (Maliki's Party)

On Friday January 17th, my village threw an incredible ɲɛnajɛ (party) for me. They paid for a dununw (traditional drumming) group, a local jelicɛ (griot), and, for the first time in over 10 years, actually made jakow (traditional mascots/costumes). They also slaughtered a goat for a village-wide meal of kini ni tigadɛgɛna ni ba sogo (rice, peanut sauce, and goat meat).

Everyone had a great time, and the village was clearly buzzing from the excitement of putting such a celebration on for the first time in recent memory. It was just awesome to be a part of something like this, where all of those involved are personal friends. The village as a whole worked very hard to put this together, and I can't express how much it meant to me.

Preperations

Each kin (neighborhood) made their own jakow. Thursday in Katilela, Drissa and Adama stitch together grasses from kɔlɔn kɔnɔ (the rice fields) for a jako while Badaou, Famoussa, and Bala work on tying together the wooden carcass of sticks.

Bala jokingly dances with the jako carcass as others look on.

Friday in Diarrakela, the guys work on their waraba (lion) jako. Since this type of festival hasn't been done in Makili for a long time, the intention had been to borrow jakow heads from a neighboring village. But that village refused on Thursday, meaning Makilikaw had to get more creative and design their own.

Ɲɛnajɛ

With the last minute jakow preparations by the men and the daily lunch-time responsibilities for the women, the party didn't really get going until about 1PM. With everything in our village, things start slow, dɔɔoni dɔɔni as they say in bambara. Slow to the point where you think that nothing will ever happen at all. But once an event gets going, it never disappoints.

The three-man group playing the dununw for the ɲɛnajɛ.

Sidi, the jelicɛ, was complimented by Bakaja, one of my jatigimusow (host-mothers), while singing.

Throughout the event, people kept coming up to Sidi to hand him money and tell him a name. Sidi would then sing that person praises. This happens at any event with a jeli in Mali.

To show you the extent to which my village went for this, they wouldn't even allow me to give a dime to the jelicɛ as the rest of the village handed over money. They said Maliki will not pay anything today, really appreciating the effort I made to visit them.

Women dance with dabaw and falow (farm hoes) during the dunun.

The Michelin Man? Pillsbury Doughman? Ghostbusters?

Alou from Diarrakela was a creative mastermind, spearheading most of the day's jakow. Here he is, inside his cɛba (big man) jako. Alou is wearing all of those rice sacks, stuffed with rice stalks, and had to be wheeled in on a wagon. He managed to wobble back and forth, dancing a bit, setting the crowd into a frenzy.

Back when I was evacuated, I had joined the Diarrakela kin in tailoring matching clothing for their ɲɛnajɛ. But I was unfortunately evacuated before the ɲɛnajɛ ever happened.

For their dance, the Katilela women draped a piece of fabric around my neck, matching their uniform (warn by the woman front and center), so that I could join them.

Fotigi, who's role in village is to play the talking drum to call people to meetings or events, plays the part of the jinɛ, or spirit/demon. High up on stilts, he did a good job of dancing and keeping his balance.

Dara, the president of our water and sanitation committee, and one of my closest friends, handled MC duties for the day. As the waraba jako took to the scene, he surprised me by singing himself to start things off.

Young men hold hands, jump back and forth to signal the entrance of a new jako.

Enthusiastic jumping and dancing as the waraba (lion) jako enters the scene.

The waraba rushes the crowd. After the waraba left, we saw a young girl of about 10 near us in complete hysteria, crying, looking like she was going to fall over, and had to sit down. I could have sworn she was very sick. Nope... just scared to death thinking this thing was going to eat her.

Women performing the jantigi, a traditional bamanan dance.

Marakala kin came in with two donkeys, driven by men dressed as nomads.

A little rodeo action with this cowboy-like jako.

A Bokomana kin jako.

The Bokomana jako against the crowd.

This Diarrakela jako had a modern touch. This mototigi (motorcycle rider) had a modern helmet, but a mock wooden and grass moto.

This was the only jako kungalo (head) that they were able to get from a neighboring village, Koro. I had seen this jako in 2011. Bayani, a middle-aged man and good friend (in the pink turban), was practically being trampled by this one.

The young men of Katilela performed their own crazy dance to cap off the jakow. Dressed in whatever crazy costumes they could churn up, with whatever props, they really had fun with this.

Yɛ (front left) was especially crazy using the donkey cart crossbar as a horse, while one of my best friends Tayluru (center) had me laughing hysterically after surprisingly joining in after always refusing to dance.