Destination Timbuktu Sahara with Michael Palin

Well, welcome to the 3 o'clock ferry

from Rosso in Mauritania over to Senegal.

We're crossing one of the great rivers of the Sahara - the Senegal.

It's 1,000 miles long. But it's not just a border between Mauritania, which we've just left, and Senegal.

It also demarcates the two sides of the Sahara -

the Arab north and the black south.

From now on, we're in black Africa.

Just before it reaches the Atlantic Ocean,

the Senegal River swells into a wide estuary. Everything has changed.

Sand is replaced by water. Tents are replaced by warehouses.

And where there was only camel meat, there's fresh smoked fish everywhere.

This is St Louis in Senegal.

It was founded by the French over 350 years ago -

the cornerstone of their African empire, built in their own likeness.

Stepping off the boat is still like stepping into provincial France.

It's amazing how little we know about other countries' heroes.

In the 1920s and '30s, the French were absolutely captivated by the exploits of the daring young pilots

who made long solo flights, day and night, to bring mail from France to West Africa and on to South America.

One of the most famous of these was Jean Mermoz,

and when he disappeared into the Atlantic in December 1936, at the age of 36, all of France mourned.

Mermoz spent his last night here in the Hotel de la Poste, St Louis.

'Senegal has been independent since 1960,

'but seems to be in no hurry to shake off the French connection.'

Ah! Combien est Le Monde, s'il vous plait? Neuf?

'By sad coincidence, today's headlines mark the death of another French hero, singer Charles Trenet.'

Merci. "Charles Trenet est mort."

# La mer, da-da-da-dee... #

There's no shortage of guides to show you round the town.

But a pony and trap can quickly become a pony and tourist trap.

I want to look beyond the colonial picturesque for modern Senegal.

I make for the home of Jacob Yakouba, one of Senegal's best-known artists.

Jacob's particular genre is the lightly clad female, preferably quite young.

'His greatest inspiration is his glamorous wife, Marie Madeleine,

'an actress and star of Senegal's most popular TV soap.

'Over a communal platter of fish balls in a spicy stew, I ask her about her role.'

-La television?

-Oui.

-On traite un petit peu d'un probleme...

-On a pris comme pretexte un probleme religieux...

-Oui?

-Oui!

-A religious problem, discussed...

-Voila, qui s'appelle Bara Saudi.

In the soap opera, the great sort of Senegalese EastEnders,

of which Marie Madeleine is the star, she marries a man and he has an affair and divorces her.

She wants to remarry him, and she remarries him three times, I think,

and that's, um, the maximum you're allowed to divorce and remarry.

After that, she wants to stay with him, so he asks her if she will marry his best friend.

Something like that, anyway.

-..Et moi, j'ai dis non, meme si d'Islam demande d'etre une femme soumise...

-A submissive wife?

Oui, oui, oui. Alors, moi, je me suis revolte.

-So, Marie Madeleine, you are a liberated woman on the television? Femme liberee?

-Femme liberee.

'Jacob doesn't seem quite so sure about this.

'I inquire if polygamy is common.'

-Il y a beaucoup...

-A lot of polygamy?

-JACOB:

-Moi, j'ai choisi monogamie.

-You've chosen monogamy?

-Yes!

WOMEN LAUGH

And me!

-A good example.

-I'm afraid!

-Oh, you're afraid! Afraid?! Oh, wow! You? Look at you!

-Would you let...?

-She is my commander!

'Would Marie Madeleine, I wondered, allow Jacob to have another wife?'

-Jamais! Never!

-OK! That's clear.

160 miles south of St Louis is a small island,

which, because of safe moorings and easy defences,

became the most successful trading centre in West Africa. It's called Goree.

Goree is still prosperous and attractive,

but its beauty conceals an ugly past.

The island of Goree could really be any tourist trap on the French Riviera.

But it owes its popularity almost entirely to its infamous reputation

as a departure point for millions of slaves, taken from the interior,

from the Sahara area, and shipped out to the plantations in America by the English, French and Portuguese.

WHIPLASHES

No-one knows exactly how many slaves the Europeans bought from African traders and shipped out of Goree.

But here in the grounds of the old governor's mansion,

they're rehearsing a dance which commemorates the sufferings of many millions.

This, and other dances like it, will be performed for thousands of Afro-Americans

who visit Goree each year in search of explanations and, if possible,

comfort from seeing the place where their ancestors had THEIR last sight of Africa.

For me, it's time to turn away from the sea and back into Africa.

First stop, the Senegalese capital of Dakar - a city of inexhaustible energy.

Wrestling is the most popular sport in Senegal,

and tonight, a crowd hails the pan-African champion, Morf Adan.

Stars like him can fill stadiums. Tonight, he's in his own back yard

to inspire the local boys.

I catch up with the great man - and some sheep - in his courtyard.

He does make money from wrestling, but he spends most of it on his entourage. Shepherds, probably!

Outside, the champions of the future are giving it their all.

Morf explains you need only get your opponent's shoulders on the ground,

so a bout can last anything from five seconds to...maybe seven!

There's such a crowd of competitors it looks as though it could go on all night,

so I make my apologies and slip away. Easier said than done!

APPLAUSE

Wrestling is not the only alternative to an early night.

Dakar has a booming music scene, and at a jazz club near the fish market

the band includes not only locals, but an American ex-pat - Tom Vahle.

Clubs here, they're kind of... they're...they're kind of, you know,

-they're not so sure if they want to hire a band that doesn't play the local Senegalese music.

-Right.

-Do you think I need some? Well, thank you very much.

-You're welcome.

Must be something I didn't...

-Ah, the manager!

-Bee-ba-da-ba-da!

How long have you run this club?

-Three months and 21 days.

-Is it different from other clubs you've managed?

-Yeah.

-Why? How different?

-The other clubs, they were rectangular.

-Oh! That wasn't the answer I expected!

-But I like that!

-I need space.

-You need space.

-I am Lebou from my own origin.

-You are...?

-I need to see this...

-Lebou.

-Lebou is a fishing caste.

-Oh, right. You're from the fishing...

-Those kind of people are mine.

-Were you a fisherman at one time?

-I don't catch any fish!

-I can throw it, but nothing is coming, man!

-Right!

-It's a great evening. Thank you very much indeed.

-Great. Good luck to you. According to my age...

-According to my age...

-What is your age? I can't believe it. 38?

-No, no!

-38? Are you crazy?

-Yes, I'm crazy.

I am 60 years old, man.

-60.

-60 years old?

-Six-o.

-You're just about my age, really.

-No, no, no. I am older than you.

-You're well preserved.

-He's 60 going on 20!

-How do you stay in shape?

(I make love every single night!)

Yes, well, I try to, but...!

-No, you cannot say it. You don't say it.

-I won't say it.

-Certainly not.

-That's it.

-Every single night, he, um...gets some exercise!

Next morning,

it's time to get myself and what remains of my brain cells away from the fleshpots of Dakar.

Conveniently, the French built a railway to connect the coast with the centre of their African empire.

'This is the Bamako Express,

'one of two trains a week between Dakar and the capital of Mali.

'There's a nasty rumour going round it might leave on time.'

Having followed the desert to its western limits on the Atlantic,

and tasted big-city life in Dakar,

we're now going to explore the desert to the east,

through the city that is more synonymous with the Sahara than any other - the city of Timbuktu.

The roads are lousy, so we're taking the train to Bamako in Mali.

A mere 36 hours...if it's on time!

We shall rely on the railway to take us 1,000 miles into the interior,

then on the steam ferry service

to carry us up the Niger River to our destination - Timbuktu.

Sheep absolutely everywhere.

They seem to have overrun the city.

Either they're very, very fond of sheep,

or there's some sort of sheep convention, but everywhere... Here's some more coming up here.

Rather well fed, rather well looked after.

There they are, nuzzling round the old container.

It's most odd. I've never seen so many sheep in one place in my life.

I'm a bit of a sheep man. Well...I like them!

Just...

in an aesthetic way!

No more... Not their little, fluffy tails and...

bummy bits!

The city sprawls on.

Over two million people are crammed into Dakar and its suburbs.

Many come in from the countryside, preferring safety in numbers to the hardships of wind and drought.

This is amazing. It's the most extraordinary shopping mall in the world!

It runs for about a mile beside the train here, and everything is here.

Over there you've got people actually making the things, wholesale, and retail down here.

It's like a huge department store - you've got handbags, ladies' underwear...food hall!

WHISTLE BLOWS

The train never goes much above a stately 30mph,

allowing plenty of time to admire the ubiquitous baobab trees.

Its branches are so much like roots, legend has it the devil shoved them in the ground upside down.

'The train is packed - largely, it seems, with women,

'all decked out in striking West African style.

'I get talking to one of them,

'an English teacher called Dhadi, on the perennial topic of husbands and wives and how many of each.'

Before Islam, you know, polygamy existed in traditional society, you see.

And they said, OK, the man can marry up to four wives,

so that they can work on the fields, you know, they can help each other.

That was the idea, you see.

And then Islam entered Africa.

And men said that OK, the Koran says that since we are Muslim,

we can marry up to four wives.

-What do you think of this? Do you approve of that?

-Let me tell you something. I am against that.

-I thought you might be.

-I am against that.

Well, that's my opinion. I am against... And I know why.

Why?

Let's say, first of all, I am jealous.

Of the other wives?

I don't wanna share my husband.

And second, in every polygamist's house,

there is always trouble.

Because co-wives, you know, are jealous.

Sometimes they finish before the judge,

and every day, either in Senegal or in Mali,

because most of the time the husband, you know, has one house,

and all the four wives, they live, you know, in the same house.

And, you know, you can't imagine that.

Sometimes one of the wives can go to the marabout and try to do juju...

-The marabout is...?

-Well, he's a kind of a priest, you know?

You go to see them... He's a seer, he can predict the future,

and also he can make some juju, sometimes.

Every wife would like the man to love her better,

and they put some powder in the food, or in the water, you know, things like that.

Or, sometimes,

when one of the wives is sick, for example, she's gonna say, "That's my co-wife. She's a witch."

Superstition, juju and black magic remain powerful forces out here.

Qu'est-ce qu'est le plus long...?

'At supper, I get down to more mundane considerations, like when the train will arrive.

'I ask my businessman friend if it's often late.

'"Well," he explains diplomatically, "instances of it arriving on time are very rare."

'Like the cutlery!'

Well...

-We have no...

-Yes. Mmm.

Early next day, we cross into Mali.

Borders aren't taken that seriously here. The main tribal groups are spread across several countries.

But the landscape IS different. Flat Senegal gives way to the rocky escarpments of Mali.

The heat builds, making concentration difficult.

Time drags on, and as we climb, we seem to be going slower than ever.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Well, we've now completed 33 hours of the supposedly 35-hour journey,

but we seem to be becalmed here at some station on the way. We're still ten hours away from Bamako.

We stopped because this train was on the single-track line.

But our progress is a matter of considerable chance at the moment -

whether it'll take 10 hours, or 15 or 20. It's in the lap of the gods.

Well...

-Hello! Hello!

-Hello!

Bye-bye!

It's always a good sign when we're actually moving - very encouraging.

There's a cloud of dust up in front. I can't quite see the engine.

But we ARE on the move, and we're heading towards Bamako,

and we're only ten hours late.

'I think that calls for some sort of celebration!'

Une biere, s'il vous plait. ..Merci.

That's 500 back, so that's about... 50 pence for a beer.

Not bad.

I never quite understand, in Islamic countries, whether they allow bars.

But obviously this train is kind of typical of the tolerance found in Mauritania, Senegal and now Mali.

They don't seem to be too fierce about applying the rules. If you want a beer, you can have a beer.

After a second, unscheduled night on the train,

during which water and most other supplies fail, we finally pull into Bamako just before dawn.

I love travel. I love the promise of new places and new faces.

But I must admit that on Bamako Station this morning, my mask of optimism is travel-worn.

The only good thing about this moment is we actually got to Bamako.

-It's 5am. I feel dazed and confused. But there are a lot of people here to help(!)

-Yeah.

-Au revoir.

-Where you come from?

-I don't know. Not a clue!

Mademoiselle!

A shower, a shave and a change of underwear later,

I feel a joie de vivre slowly returning.

Just as well. The streets of Bamako are not for the faint-hearted!

'I take refuge at a local cafe.

'The proprietor promises to fix me something like a double espresso.'

Well, I feel a lot better now. Shave, clean shirt and all that.

There's the station. We arrived in the dead of night.

Next to the station is the Hotel de la Gare, where a group called the Rail Band used to meet.

The Rail Band was begun by Toumani Diabate, a musician whose album I've been playing for three months.

It's wonderful music - a fusion between traditional African and contemporary music.

And Toumani lives and works in Bamako, so I'm hoping I'll be able to see him while I'm here,

and see how he makes the music.

RAPPING IN FRENCH

Toumani is not just a musician.

He's also a producer, and that evening I track him down to the club where he's watching his new rap act.

The message of their latest track is, believe it or not, getting kids to go to school.

Later in the evening, Toumani takes to the stage with his own band.

The rhythms and instruments are solidly traditional,

featuring the lute-like ngoni

the harp-like kora... and the balafon.

Music like this has put Mali on the world map,

and it enabled Toumani to show me round his home city in some style.

On the way to his home, we passed the Great Mosque in the city centre,

then, in the market, a fetish stall,

of shrunken animal heads, shows that Islam has to coexist with voodoo.

But the day's great treat for me is a masterclass with the man himself.

When did you start mixing the kora, the traditional instrument, with the more contemporary ones like guitar?

First of all, is to start with traditional sound.

From there, I was listening to James Brown's music, to Otis Redding's,

to Jimi Hendrix, to Johnny Hallyday also, Salif Keita.

And so I said, "Oh, well, the kora must be... I have to open a new door for the kora.

"A universal door for the kora."

Did your father approve of that?

Yes. At the beginning, he said, "Oh! Look - the children, they are changing everything!"

So I told him - we had a nice meeting about that -

I said, "Look, I am not changing the kora, I am just developing the kora."

'Kora-playing, like so much else in Malian life, is rich in history.

'Toumani's family have been kora players for 72 consecutive generations.'

'400 miles from Bamako lives one of Africa's most extraordinary tribes.

'This is Tirelli, one of the villages of the Dogon people.

'600 years ago, they retreated here from the Islamic invasions,

'and remained, until recently, cut off from the world.

'Today, the headman of the village welcomes us.'

Thank you for letting us into your home.

He said, "You are welcome. Make yourself at home."

How many wives and children does the chief have?

-Two wives and ten children.

-Wow! That's a handful.

The Dogon culture looks as if it hasn't changed for many centuries.

Is it changing fast now that the outside world is taking an interest?

'Amadou, my Dogon guide, translates for the village chief.

'"Because we were cut off from the world for so long, we developed our own way of looking at the universe."

'Using the carvings on one of his granary doors, he explains how the Dogon believe the world was created.

'The god Amma first created the sun, moon and stars, then the Earth in the shape of a woman,

'with an anthole for her vagina and a termite mound for her clitoris.

'He tried to make love to her, but the termite mound blocked his path, so he removed it.

'He tried again, and this time twins were born. They were half-man, half-snake,

'and lived in the heavens.

'Amma then made a human couple, who had eight ancestors from whom all of us are made.'

And so you have also...

'I'm still trying to get my head round all this,

'when Amadou tells me the Dogon were not the first people to colonise the escarpment.

'Before them came the Tellem, who lived on the cliff face itself.'

-..Become now a tomb, where they bury the Dogon people, if someone dies...

-On the cliff?

-Yes, up there.

'The Tellem clearly preferred high-rise living, relying on ropes to get in and out of their homes.

'It seems incredible that people should have fought each other to live in such a bleak place,

'until you remember that 500 years ago, the whole area was forest.'

'An echo of those more fertile times

'is the status Dogon society still accords to the hunter.'

Terrific! This is the greeting - they go through the entire family.

Yes, this is a greeting. And we have to ask everyone, one by one.

Someone of them ask, "How are your donkey? How are your cow?"

It's funny, you know, but this is polite. You have to ask everything.

Tell him that I don't know any Dogon at the moment, so I just say ca va?

-What do they hunt here?

-Here, him hunting monkeys, wild rat and dog.

-Do you eat much meat here?

-Oh, yes, yes.

When they are hunting and they kill animals, they eat a lot of meat.

Sometimes, if they didn't find animals, they kill a sheep or a goat.

-A rat? Do they have a bit of rat every now and then?

-Yes, they find sometimes rats on the rocks.

-The rat they are hunting up there on the rocks, and the monkeys and the dog, antelope...

-Does he shoot them?

-Or does he...? Oh!

-This is something he had to kill monkeys...

A monkey that's seen better days.

-Right.

-This is a monkey's head.

-Yes. Can he show me?

I see! That's gunpowder - made here?

Yes, made here. Local gunpowder.

-Yeah. What is it?

-It makes, I think... This is local gunpowder.

Oh, wow! So he...

Well away from them!

GUN FAILS TO GO OFF...TWICE

-Oh!

-Oh!

INTERPRETER ADVISES

GUN FAILS AGAIN

-The monkey's positively cheering up!

-GUN FAILS AGAIN

Right. Here we go again.

Oomph!

Oh-oh-oh...!

-It's OK...

-He's OK!

-I just got a blast right across my face.

It's OK. I know how you feel now!

-Me too!

-Well, it worked! I think I preferred it when it WASN'T working!

'Having survived the hunter, I now have to survive a lunch of goat, millet and baobab leaf.'

-OK, so we just...

-Help yourself.

-..grab in? Ow! Ooh, it's hot!

It's hot - very hot. Slowly.

-It's very hot.

-Yeah.

-And people say you cannot be a strong man if you...

-Oh! Well, I'm past all that now!

You have to eat when it is very hot.

This is the local food.

It's really good, but I can't emphasise how hot it is on the end of your fingers.

I don't know how they eat it. My tender, artistic little digits!

'It's not just the food that's hot, it's the temperature outside - 56 centigrade at midday.

'That's 134 Fahrenheit!

'It's the hottest meal of my life.'

The straw-capped granaries that dot the village contain the millet on which the Dogon diet depends.

Equally important to their way of life are weapons, door latches and assorted ironmongery

produced by the blacksmith with the help of his seven-year-old daughter.

The blacksmith is one of the most important men of the village.

In Dogon folklore, the first blacksmith stole the fire from God.

His duties extend beyond making things, as Amadou explains to me.

So now, another importance of the blacksmith, when they must do a circumcision in a village.

-Circumcision?

-Yes, circumcision.

The blacksmith use his own knife to cut the sex of the boys.

-The blacksmith actually does the circumcision?

-Yes.

And the blacksmith women do the excision for girls.

-Is female circumcision still common here?

-Yes. They still partake.

They still do it in a village.

-So most of the girls in this village here will have been circumcised?

-All of the girls. All of the girls.

A COCK CROWS

So...

a termite mound...

..and the ants below...

'I'm not the first one to try and make some sense of all this.

'There's a joke that runs, "How many are there in a Dogon family?

'"Five - two parents, two children and one French anthropologist."'

In Dogon country, absolutely nothing is what you expect it to be.

This maniacally joyful dance is celebrating a funeral.

I know it's a cliche to say that you've found somewhere different from the rest of the world,

but in this village of Tirelli in Dogon country, it's true.

The way of life here and the reason for the way of life here

is quite unlike anything I've ever seen before, and I will never see anywhere like this again.

They've been very, very good friends - very good hosts.

But don't tell anyone!

FUNERAL DRUMMING CONTINUES

The ancient town of Djenne,

circled by the waters of the Bani River, is our next stop on the road to Timbuktu.

I've hired a mobilette

to drive myself around what many consider to be the most beautiful of all the cities of the Sahara.

The mosque at Djenne is an architectural marvel - the largest mud-built structure in the world.

The streets are fine examples of mud as an art form -

graceful and stylish, qualities which in Mali are not confined to the buildings.

'Djenne doubles its size on market days.

'I'm shown around by Amadou Cisse, known to the world as Pygmy.'

-What tribe or people are you from?

-I am half Fulani.

-Half Fulani? What's the other half?

-My father,

-the other half, is Songhai.

-Songhai?

-Songhai.

-Oh, Songhai, yes.

-Songhai empire!

-Yeah!

-I remember that.

-Yeah. ..Oh, sorry.

-You know an awful lot... You know a lot of ladies, Pygmy.

-Yes.

-It's normal. It's my city and it's OK that you know people!

-Yeah.

In Mali, are the women friendly and open? They don't mind if you come up to say hello, though you're married?

No, it's OK, I know them since I was a boy. It's my city and everything.

I heard that you met your wife in the market. Is that true?

Yeah, I met her in the market, if you want, for the first time, and she is Fulani.

-And you're Fulani?

-Yes, but for me it wasn't necessary to be Fulani or not.

For me, it only... She was very nice for me, that every time when I come,

she bring milk, because she sell milk, and for me, everything when she come, I see her and she was pretty,

-and young, nice, and for me, I was always happy to be with her.

-Yeah.

-Because first I was only buy milk...

-You just came along to buy milk!

You were a customer, exactly. Buying a pint of milk and you fell in love!

What is special about Fulani women?

What makes them so distinctive?

-Can you tell a Fulani woman here in the crowd?

-Yeah. She is Fulani.

-OK, she is Fulani. She is the cousin of my wife.

-Oh, right! She's a cousin of your wife!

You just happened to find her here!

-You see around her mouth?

-Yes.

-That's like a tattooage.

-And that's a family sign on her face.

-Those marks there?

-Yeah, yeah.

THEY CHAT

Lovely ears.

Aagh!

-Family problems!

-Yes, family problems.

-OK, we don't need to know.

'I feel that Pygmy is the man to enlighten me on the question that's been on my mind since Dakar -

'sheep.'

-And there are sheep everywhere. I've seen them all through Mali.

-Yeah.

-What's the reason?

Now it will be a Tabaske festival...

Tabaske is a major Islamic festival. The head of the household is required to sacrifice a sheep.

It commemorates the time God spared Isaac, the son of Abraham,

an event common to Muslim, Jew and Christian.

-Are they all male sheep?

-Yeah, complete...

-But do they have to be men?

-Yeah, not females.

-Yeah? Because of the story.

-Mens...

-Complete, meaning what?

Complete, not with one eyes or one leg, something like that!

'Pygmy's left it a bit late, and like turkeys on the day before Christmas, it's a seller's market.'

What's the problem?

-Now he say 40,000.

-40,000?

-I need to discuss.

-That's £40? Have you haggled down a bit?

-Now it's 37.

-37?

It's two or three people you're dealing with.

He is the manager who knows where to find the best sheep, but I think he gets something from the owner.

-He tells me it's a good price...

-And the manager gets to trouser a few!

This doesn't happen like this at Sainsbury's, does it?

OK. So you get the boys to take it back for you?

Yeah, yeah. Normally it's always when you buy a sheep...

Malian women always look sensational, but for Tabaske, they make a special effort.

'At Pygmy's house, the wife he met over milk shakes

'is having her feet hennaed by an older woman,

'who suggests there was more to the relationship than buying milk.'

I think there's a more interesting side to this story!

-Shall I tell you what she said?

-All right, tell me!

-If you fell in love,

and you try one time with her and it's nice, you can't leave her alone.

You will follow her everywhere, she says, but it's not true.

In Mali, before you get married, are you allowed to have time together?

Can you sleep together?

-Me, her?

-Yeah.

-Since the day I get married, I never know her before,

like love, or sleep together - I never do that before I get married.

But for the village's people,

they don't believe I never make love or something with her.

'I like Pygmy, and the fact that he overcame his parents' objections to marry the woman he wanted.

'On Tabaske morning, the mosque isn't big enough for everyone.

'They gather to worship on open ground at the edge of town.'

-What actually happens now, at this ceremony?

-We pray in the daytime.

Normally, we pray after lunch and on the afternoon.

But now, because it is like a special ceremony,

people will pray between 9 and 10 o'clock. It is something very special for us.

First it is the Imam who makes the sacrifice, kills his sheep here.

And after, people go home to do the same thing, make the sacrifice.

IMAM CHANTS

The sheep's looking nervous,

like an actor on his first night...and last night!

Devotions done, the sheep is taken to the Imam

to be slaughtered. Once he's made this first sacrifice, everyone can head home and celebrations begin.

GREETINGS

-Ah, yes. What should I say? What's the greeting?

-Sambe sambe.

-Sambe sambe!

Sambe sambe!

-It's good.

-I'm very glad. I know two words...well, one word, twice!

Sambe sambe! It's good...

'As we approach his house, I sense that, for the first time, Pygmy's ebullience is beginning to fade,

'as the moment comes for him to do his duty.

'One sheep has already been dispatched by his father.

'Now it's Pygmy's turn.

'As Auntie looks sternly on, he's instructed in the importance of a swift, humane technique.

'Most importantly, the cut must be clean and the sheep mustn't suffer.

'The blood flows into the gutters, the knife is washed,

'and within half an hour, everything that can be eaten is ready for the pot.

'In the finest traditions of African and Muslim hospitality, I'm asked to share Tabaske feast.'

-He is never on time to eat!

-Come on! It's all gone!

-C'est fini!

Mm. Thank you. Thank you.

Mmm! Do you say something? Do you give thanks or...?

-Normally we never eat with the left hand.

-I know, I know. I've made a terrible gaffe.

-They are laughing because you are not used to it.

-I know. I'm not.

You've got to try something new.

Find out...how people...

-Are all the bits of the sheep eaten?

-No.

We eat part of the sheep, and then there is some poor people -

we give - we distribute amongst them.

And the young boys of the village - they get the sheeps' testicles?

Yeah, that's the good luck. It's to make them clever.

THEY MAKE RUDE NOISES

Djenne's days of greatness ended when the River Bani silted up,

and trade moved to the nearby port of Mopti.

I've come to Mopti to look for the Timbuktu ferry.

The harbour's full of people, but low on water, leaving raw sewage exposed. No-one but me worries much.

Squalor and beauty coexist quite happily on the Mopti waterfront.

I'm relieved to find the Timbuktu ferries are in port.

But as I climb aboard, it doesn't exactly look as if they're waiting for the starting gun.

When I eventually find one of the pilots, I get rather a shock.

-Bonjour.

-Bonjour.

-Quand est le prochain bateau pour Timbuktu, s'il vous plait?

-Juillet.

-Juillet? Juillet?!

-Oui.

-Alors! A Juillet... Mars, Avril, Juin, Juillet... Three months!

-Oui.

-Trois mois?!

-Oui.

-C'est fini a ce moment? Le bateau est...?

-Arrete.

-Pas marche?

-Ne marche pas.

-Pourquoi?

-Je n'ai pas assez de l'eau.

-Ah! Pas de l'eau - not enough water. Fair enough.

'The river isn't deep enough at this time of year to take steamboats. I shall have to find an alternative.'

Bonjour, bonjour!

Je cherche une pinasse pour Timbuktu...

'The harbour master is sympathetic, and appreciates that I can't really hang around for three months.

'He asks around among the captains of the wood-hulled cargo boats, the pinasses, that ply the river.

'After some negotiation, he finds one that will take us -

'the Pagou Manpagu. It leaves tomorrow.'

'Day of departure.

'Time for Englishman in silly hat to take on provisions.'

Combien? Cent?

-Trois cents.

-Trois cents? Trois cents, c'est tres cher, n'est-ce pas?

Mais...vous etes tres belle. Merci.

Au revoir.

Look, we have some nanas!

The river's encouragingly busy. Indeed, it looks as if we'll be leaving in the middle of rush hour!

I squelch through the mud and filth

for what I pray will be the last time, and sling my bag on deck.

Unfortunately, there IS no deck -

just an open hull below and a small farm up on the bridge.

There's no denying the sense of anticipation as we finally get under way -

past my stranded ferry boat and out to join the Sahara's most famous river.

I'm now at last on the Niger River,

which runs in a great curve out into the desert and back into Nigeria.

About 200 years ago, no Westerners had really seen it.

They decided they had to find out about this part of Africa and the wealth being carried on the river.

Mungo Park, who wrote Travels Into The Interior Of Africa, was the first Westerner here, in 1796.

Then, of course, the race was on to try and get to Timbuktu, which was the legendary city on the river.

Mungo Park never made it there, but others did.

I hope WE will - that the wind doesn't strengthen any more!

There's no restaurant as such on board, but food is always available.

The kitchen is, well, just about anywhere.

At one stop, Kristin, a Norwegian, comes aboard.

She's lived in Mali for some years, studying Fulani women and customs.

The other thing lots of people have said still goes on is circumcision - male and female circumcision.

Is that true, from your experience of the society?

It's very hard to resist, and to fight against circumcision.

And to be a woman here, you should be circumcised.

Do you think...? I mean, the European view would be

that there's something a bit barbaric and cruel and um...

that it ruins the pleasure of sex for women, and all that sort of thing. Do you think that's true?

It's quite sure that what is sexual pleasure here and in Europe, I think it's quite different.

And we have a tendency of thinking that sexual pleasure is quite...

is impossible for a circumcised woman. I don't share that opinion.

And what men find attractive here in Africa

doesn't necessarily correspond with what is attracting a man in Europe.

In Europe, a woman should be skinny, but here,

-a woman should be fat.

-Yeah, I've noticed.

-That's very contradictory.

'She's also a part-time Christian missionary - not an easy thing to be in a Muslim country.'

Isn't it hard to convert Muslims to Christianity?

I have never considered evangelism or the Biblical message in...in numbers, counting.

It's what is in the heart,

and, you know, the most important is to love each other.

So if people see me and see me acting understand that,

and are asking me questions, I will respond to them.

-And if you go into a dialogue, it will be fine...

-I think we've run aground!

-We ran aground?

-This is the hazard of going up the Niger River!

It looks very wide, but it's very shallow, especially at this point, don't you think? We hit a sandbank.

-It's not profound at all.

-What?

-It's very common.

-Is it?

-Yes.

-So they're going to push us off with those great big poles?

-Yes, I think.

-Do you travel up the Niger a lot?

-Yes.

-Do you?

-Yes. I love it.

-Really?

It gives me a great satisfaction.

-It's so colm...

-Calm!

-Calm?

-Yes. It's very tranquil at the moment, isn't it?

'As the mighty River Niger is revealed to be barely waist-deep,

'there's not much to do except find out a little more about each other.'

Have you any idea of the number of converts, people who have converted to Protestantism?

-I know...

-You know?

-..people that have been converted.

-From Islam to...?

-From Islam to Christianity.

We have been working in Mali for 15 years.

Just to determine my...

-Determine? What do you call it?

-To determine? Determine.

-..the number...it's improper.

-I don't...

-100? 1,000?

-It's not a good question.

It's like, it's not what it's about at all, the numbers.

Even though it was 100 or 1,000 or even one, it's the same thing.

-It's important to be present and to act in society.

-Yeah. Mm.

And to get people to see what they are doing.

-And I don't count in souls or converted...

-No, I just...

roughly, whether you knew if it was thousands or hundreds or ones or twos, that was all.

Because then I can say, "Yes, well, a number of people have converted in Mali." But I don't know how many.

-So you're not going to tell me.

-No. I think it's a ridiculous question.

-After another day and a half on the river, I'll ask again!

-Maybe!

Perhaps not surprisingly, Kristin jumps ship to avoid more questions,

and goes ashore on a fishing boat, which is probably just as well,

as there's only one hammock.

Well, it's about 6:35, night falling over Africa,

and, um...we're still on the same sandbank we stuck on earlier,

when I was talking to Kristin,

so I don't know how long it's going to be...

It could be all night. But it's very comfortable in hammock class.

Well, no-one ever said getting to Timbuktu would be easy.

So what more can an Englishman do, but lie back and think of Africa?

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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