Caga {part I}

To happen upon the village right now, at the end of the dry hot season, you would find a monochromatic, brittle, lazy landscape mostly devoid of color. The greens of the occasional neem or wild grape tree are exaggerated by the red-brown rock expanse that shifts slightly in the heat, threatening to swallow any cool breeze that may pass. At the edge of the village, the cliff drops abruptly. A sandstone scree joins the dirty tang colored dunes below in the Bonbo valley. Standing on the edge of the cliff you can see the Dogon plain beyond the valley to the south and east stretching through the dusty haze into Burkina. There is a subtle yet intimidating beauty here.

At first glance, nothing here even hints at the possibility of water. However, tucked in the folds and boulders of the eroding escarpment, a small wood grows; a veritable forest compared to its surroundings. A closer look reveals several species of trees not found on the plateau. A tangle of vines wind up the varnished stone walls. The Yellow-Billed Egret, the Canary, the Weaver and the bright turquoise Abyssinian Roller flit in the cool air created by the transpiring grove below. Small birds of prey perch in the high limbs overlooking the chasm. I have been told that monkeys come here in the drought years and that the once sacred caiman hides in the stacked boulders. At the head of the deep arroyo a small spring trickles out of the rock and pools, then disappears only to resurface 50 meters down the wash. This is the preferred water source of the Dogon who live here. They call it “Caga”.