MALI ： Antogo, la cérémonie sacrée au cœur de la culture dogon – Documentaire civilisation – AMP)

At the foot of the Bambiagara cliff lies the village of Bamba, at the heart of the Dogon country. Like all the farmers in the world, the Dogons live at the pace of the seasons. Here, from January to May, every year, without mercy, drought falls on the land and on the inhabitants. Finding water becomes the first task. And yet, by moving away from the village a little, you can discover a huge permanent water point. But no Dogon would dare to touch it. This marsh looks like nothing. In Togo, that's its name. It looks like nothing, and yet it is sacred. For Adulay, keeping it is a heavy responsibility. I am part of a family that must take care of the marsh. We were given this authority. If we find branches in the marsh, we will be told, why are you leaving debris in the water? Why didn't you remove them? In a few days, Frenesia will take hold of these immobile waters. In a few days, Togo will become the center of the world in the Dogon country. Amadou is a native of Bamba. He once left his village with his father to go and live in Koro, the most important town in the region, on the outskirts of Mali and Burkina Faso. Here, Amadou has become the manager of a gas station. But this season, the traffic has become a bit dull on the dirt tracks that serve Koro. When we talk about gas stations, a gas station is like a car park. And when we talk about cars, we have to talk about good roads. Because we don't have enough good roads, so the number of stations that are here in Burkina Faso is really low. If cars are rare, on the other hand, the news of the native village always finds its way to Koro. And precisely, the news has just spread on all the markets in the region. The party in Togo will take place this Saturday, as every year in Bamba. A party that will bring together all the Dogon dispersed in the country. This party is a joy. It's a joy and a suffering at the same time. It's not easy. It's hot. And when it's hot, we're thirsty. And we walk to go to Doudan. So, for a little child, it's difficult. But as soon as you can bear this suffering, you can go. It's a kind of initiation at an early age. And every time the plague approaches, you want to go. Back to Bamba. A Dogon always dies in the dry season, says the saying. Because in the rainy season, we don't have time to organize him beautiful funerals. There is too much to do in the fields. The Dogon civilization is one of the oldest in Black Africa, even if its origin remains mysterious. It is assumed that the Dogons settled in this region of Mali between the 11th and 13th centuries, hiding in the cliffs to escape their enemies. Whatever the season, there is only one plant grown in Bamba, the mille. Stored in the greenhouses, it will be the only food that the women of the village will be able to offer their children for months. Meeting under the Toguna, the place of speech of men. Voluntarily, the Toguna, who roam in all the villages of Dogon, are built very low to calm the ardor. Indeed, if the discussion had to heat up and the men got angry, they could not stand up too brutally for fear of hitting the ceiling. But today's meeting is not dedicated to words. The elders, who decide everything in the village, finish the manufacture of fish traps. Imere Djile is a great connoisseur. In Togo, it is a sea with stagnant waters. When the water does not flow, we use a funnel of this kind. When the water flows, we take the same starting material, but we do not make the same model. For the party in Togo, Imere Djile is the Ogon, the great computer. However, he is not the head of the village, he is just the head of the party. His role is to decide the date of the party three weeks in advance, when he judges that the level of the sea water is adequate. You know, this is not a job as such. We give blessings to people, we wish them a good departure and a good return. I do not fish. Before, I fished when I was young, when I had big brothers who played the role I play now. And above all, he must follow a very precise rule. It is forbidden for women to go to the sea. They must stay at home to prepare food and everything else. If a woman went to the sea, she would not live long. Since their childhood, women have learned that the ceremony in Togo concerns only men, far from the idea of ​​contesting this custom. Imere has never looked at what was going on there, in the sacred sea. Yet, as far as her memory goes, she has always known this party in the village. It is a matter of tradition. It dates back to ancient times. It is like a legacy. The celebration and the words are perhaps the only activities forbidden to women, because they take on all the daily tasks. Old women stay at home and work the cotton. Younger women, they cultivate in the fields, peel the cotton and prepare the kitchen. They will also look for wood and cook water. They do everything. To realize the immensity of the party, you have to enter the large inner courtyards of the houses. There, with crushed cotton, cooked twice, then fermented for three days, we make the doulo, a craft beer that will turn the heads of men. In another courtyard, we make festive clothes called borolans. In Bouccar, the tailor of the village draws them and decorates them himself His reputation has crossed the borders of the country of Ogon and his borolans are carried to Bamako. In this period, my activity is the repair or the manufacture of rifles, because we are in the dry season and people participate in ceremonies and parties. I also make rifles for those who want to ensure their protection. After the dry season, during the winter, I take care of the repair of agricultural tools for the peasants who return to the fields. There would be no party without these decorated rifles. The blacksmith is what is called here a man of caste, a character at the heart of the beliefs of Ogon, because he is master of fire, water, air and earth, which does not prevent him from being pragmatic. I find great joy because in Togo there is a traditional party to which everyone attends. All people meet on this occasion. Beyond that, people who come for fishing always give me business especially new tools. People come to me and I live from all this activity. So it's very good. It is 7 o'clock in the morning. The big day has arrived. The plain, which extends at a loss of view under the cliff of Bandiagara, begins to be invaded. All those who have the means to come have made the move. No matter the distance, no matter the means of locomotion, the great migration to the small village is underway. First step, gathering in Bamba. These Tuaregs come from the north of the country to sell salt from Taoudini. They were in Tombouctou when they heard about the great gathering of Bamba. They did not hesitate to make a few more days of camel because they have the assurance to do business. For this long journey, Amadou has left his station for three hours already. He rejoices in the affluence but it is very good that all will not be able to participate. Everyone is not allowed to fish because it is a sacred sea. So according to the old, the wise, they say it is a sea of happiness. So we would not allow everyone to come to fish and go with the happiness that it is. Bamba welcomes Dogons from all over the country but also from the Peuls and other ethnicities attracted by the party or the large market that accompanies it. All those who cannot attend the ceremony, especially women, console themselves by doing business. The weekend time, the village, forgotten from the world for the rest of the year, sees all the goods of Mali parade in front of his eyes. Imere Djilé has dressed his Haugon outfit. From now on, he is in charge of the ceremony. The old sage does not let himself be impressed so much. I am not impatient because I set the order of things. I call my horse and then I wait. Then there will be bells and the others will gather in front of my door. So I will get on my horse and I will lead all the mass of men to the sea. It is also the time of reunions. Bati, the little son of the Haugon, has to cross the whole country and travel all night. We do not come here because it hurts us. We are from Bamba. In Togo, if you do not come, it hurts. For example, I have left to Momoko. Momoko is far from here. There are others who can leave to Abidjan, even to Lamek. It is traditional. It hurts. Humere Djile gave the signal of the second stage. Under the trees, at the exit of the village, groups are formed. Only the men of the 33 Amo surrounding Bamba have the right to participate. Before leaving for the sea, they have avoided touching women so as not to get dirty. Children have the right to come if it is estimated that they can endure the physical test. It is noon, the time when the sun begins to bite the body. It is 48 degrees in the shade. At the bottom of the plain, those of the mountain find themselves in joy. No Haugon could give the exact meaning of this ceremony. Anyway, there are things that must remain mysterious. Antogo is one of the many festivals that rhythm the year, like the one dedicated to the cult of the god Hama, the creator of the universe, or to the ancestors, or to the funerals in the entrails of the mountain. But the elders say that Antogo is a way to glorify the agreement between all the participating villages. A way also to celebrate the harvests to come when the water will fall on the cliff of Bandiagara. Grouping at the foot of the hill. By small family clans, each prepares its location. Around the sea, there will soon be a thousand, two thousand or maybe more, and yet each will find its exact place, like all the others. This gathering, beyond the ceremony, is also a way for all the Dogons to share family emotions. I am prepared physically, intellectually and morally. I am really, I don't know, I am filled. When I come back here, I am really filled and I am fully available to come and talk to my parents, to know their problems, to see what solutions we can bring in addition to this celebration that brings us together and gives us the opportunity to see each other at least once a year. This is the first harvest. Fishing has not yet started. The youngest are in charge of the branches in the center of the sea. For several weeks, they have protected the fish from the attack of the birds. Amadou is enjoying this last moment of calm. It's a joy, because soon we will start fishing. But I am really excited. Now the crowd is dancing, ready for the rest of the ceremony. A voice rises. The microphones and the magnetophones tend to these mysterious incantations. The language used is secret. No one understands the meaning, but everyone wants to record it, to preserve it, to bring back this magical moment to those who could not come. This cry that marks the end of the incantations must drive away the bad spirits. Now the fishing can start, at any time, without knowing who gives the starting signal, without knowing if this signal really exists. It's a celebration The madness has begun. More than a thousand men throw themselves into the sea, smaller than a football field. The fish roam in the mud. A blow of the nose in the vase at random, and if fortune smiles at you, there is a catch, a catfish. Those who are called the men of the cast, forgeron or cordonier, stay on the bank to pace the fishing. They will receive their share of fish during the sharing. During the winter, the surroundings of the sea were only a huge swamp in which the albinos lived. Everything dried up little by little, except the sea in Togo, which became a refuge for catfish. A refuge and a trap. Over the following months, they multiplied and grew like a miracle. It's a sacred fish, especially that in the beliefs of Ogon, Hama also created the seals. The legend says that a long time ago, a boy and a girl discovered together this sea, but they were not part of the same village. A war broke out, Bamba won the war, and the right to be once a year the center of the world in Ogon. After a quarter of an hour of collective madness, all the seals are ripped off at the bank, the end of the sea. The catch is then grouped behind the bait. Never one of these fish is sold. They will be shared during the evening. Each family will keep a big fish for the older ones who did not have the strength to participate. If you were able to make the move and come and put the water of this sea on you, or take the bank to put it on you, it is also a symbol of happiness. This means that we wish that next year will be a good year. The party would not be complete without the parade of beautiful rifles. The powder is a clever mixture of gunpowder, charcoal and sulfur. With these Silex rifles, men shoot salvos towards an imaginary enemy, the earth or the sky. Tonight, the song of the women will resonate to the top of the cliffs. Tonight, everyone will have their share of fish. An unequal party awaiting another Saturday in April next year.