There Actually Is A Place Called Timbuktu

Prior to my arrival in Bamako, Dam and I had spoken about what are plans would be in the 10 days I spent in Mali. Dam had not done much traveling, so we agreed that some traveling would be the right way to spend at least part of those 10 days. After a few more emails back and forth we settled on an overland journey to Timbuktu, located north and east of Bamako, smack dab in the center of the country. Now before I go any further, I will address some questions that a few of you undoubtedly have:

1) Yes, there is actually a place called Timbuktu

2) Yes, that place is on the African continent

I would have included a couple of links that provide some good background information on Timbuktu, though I have learned through all of this traveling that there is something special about being able to tell the history and significance of a place in one's own words, from what one has learned from actually being in that place. That said, if you want to fact-check me, Wikipedia would be a good start :-).

Timbuktu (commonly spelled Tombouctou) can literally be translated into "the well" (Tim/Tom-) "of Bouctou." According to the Tuareg Nomads who currently live in the area, Tombouctou was originally a trading post and place where Tuareg travelers and traders would rest and spend a night. The distinguishing feature of the place was the presence of a well, obviously a special find in the Sahara desert. Those who found/created this well wanted it to be protected and maintained, so they charged a Tuareg woman by the name of Bouctou with its upkeep. Over time, the area became known for the well, as well as the woman who took care of it, hence Tombouctou.

Most of the people I heard speak about the city's history spoke of its founding as early as the 12th century. Over time, with the growing trade of salts, precious metals and slaves Tombouctou grew both in size and prominence. Under Mansa Moussa, king of the empire of Mali during the beginning and middle of the 14th century, the city became a religious and cultural center. King Moussa was a devout muslim (Islam had begun its spread through Mali as early as the 9th century) and during his reign built and expanded several mosques including one of the most famous in Mali, the great Mosque Djingarey Berre, located in Tombouctou.

Tombouctou grew to be one one of the most important cities in the Muslim world and as such scholars flocked to the city. During this time it became an important religious as well as intellectual capital in the Muslim world and in the 15th century the famous Sankore University was established. Over the several centuries that Tombouctou held the reputation of intellectual capital, thousands upon thousands of manuscripts were produced on subjects ranging from Islam (there are currently centuries-old editions of the Koran) to matters of political philosophy and justice.

The city retained its intellectual, religious and cultural prominence until the end of the 16th century when it was conquered by Morocco. This would be the beginning of a steady decline for the city as the Niger River (pictured above) became the strategic focal point for attacks by the Babara, Fulani and Tuareg over three centuries. Eventually the French captured and took control of the city and during this occupation, the city was restored to an extent, though nowhere near the quality of centuries passed. The French occupation of the area (known then as the French Sudan, which consisted of Senegal and Mali) ended in 1960 and Mali gained its official sovereignty in September of that year.

From what I gather, Tombouctou has remained relatively unchanged since this time retaining its religious, cultural and academic significance, though none of this has translated into true economic development. A major reason for this is that the city remains difficult to access (see the next post) and as such largescale commercial and economic development is challenge. The effect of this inaccessiblity is a city (more like a town) that somehow has retained its mysticism in a time and a world in which secret places no longer seem to exist.

I'm in Bamako, where are you?

One of the best pieces of advice I can give to anyone seeking to do a bit globetrotting is to find ways to travel (at least for part of your trip) with a friend.  As I planned my travels in West Africa I kept up with my friend Damini who was in Mali for your a year on a fellowship.  It took a bit of coordination--which is not all that easy when hopping from internet cafe to internet cafe--but we eventually figured out that I would make the short trip from Dakar to Bamako (capital city of Mali) where Dam would meet me and we would travel overland to Timboctou (aka Timbuktu--more on that later).  

Plans made, I woke up in darkness on the morning of February 28th, took a quick bucket shower and headed to the airport with Sam.  I was coming back in a little over a week, so this was not the emotional goodbye that I was sure to come later.  In fact, I was quite excited and looking forward to getting out on my own.  As great as it was to spend time with Sam and his family in Senegal, I felt as if my newly discovered independence was being encroached upon.  I spent a great deal of my time with Sam and his family, largely out of necessity (my French/Wolof has a long way to go) and I could sense that this was wearing on Sam a bit as well.

As the plane took off I couldn't help but notice my excitement to see a new place and meet up with a good friend.  It seemed only a brief moment between settling in my seat and the plane touching down and as I unbuckled my seatbelt I realized that I didn't have Dam's address.  A couple notes.  When you get into the rhythm of traveling a bunch you can take on a "what will be will be" attitude which greatly reduces the stress.  I would recommend everyone who travels try to take that to heart as at a certain point you realize that you cannot be in full control of your movements 100% of the time.  In the same breath, I would strongly recommend doing the little and important things that make traveling a lot easier.  One of these things is writing down the address of wherever you will be staying in your arrival country.

I figured that not knowing Dam's address wouldn't be too much of a problem because I could get it from him as soon as I exited the airport.  I accepted the fact that I would have to let the customs agent hold my passport until I got the address, but I had been through this enough to know that if I was quick, I shouldn't have too much trouble.  I stepped out into the dry Bamako afternoon to a crowd of people, most of whom were cabdrivers trying be the first to nab a customer.  As I scanned the crowd once, then again, but Dam was nowhere to be found.  I sat down on a nearby bench and waited, well-accustomed to the mob of cab drivers trying to get me to the destination I did not yet know for "the lowest price. Guaranteed."  Fifteen, then twenty minutes passed with no sign of Dam.  I called the number he gave me, but to no avail.  I hoped that Dam was alright, though once thirty minutes had passed I knew that I had to look out for myself and my passport.  Taking a quick look around, I noted a well-known hotel and its address, headed inside, filled out the immigration form and collected my passport.  I knew that I could buy some time at a major hotel, hopefully without paying for a room.  I left a message with a security guard at the airport (in case Dam showed up after I left), haggled with a waiting taxi driver until I reached a price which was "completely unreasonable" and headed to the Sofitel hotel, one of the largest and most Western in the city.

Bamako bore some resemblance to Dakar, though a bit more developed (I was informed that Libya's Qaddafi was involved with quite a bit of the development) and a whole lot less dusty.  The Niger river was low, though crossing over it I could easily imagine what it would look like during the rainy season.  I arrived at the Sofitel Hotel in my khakis and beat-up $1 foam sandals looking more than a little out of place.  In the main lobby there was an international conference going on and on more than a couple of occasions I was asked my business.  I had to do a bit of stalling, and verbally commit to staying a night (about $120/night).  Finally, after about an hour of stalling and placing a couple more calls to Dam's number, I began to accept that perhaps I would have to take the L and stay a night in the hotel.  As I gathered my belongings I took one last look towards the entrance.  No Dam.  I walked up to the front desk.  As I got ready to sign the billing statement I heard a voice call my name.  I turned around to see Dam, a sheepish grin on his face.