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They descend and rise as it
begins. Clapping, slowly, slowly.
"Ya Naaaa," "Ya Naaaa." White halos, betopped
by bouncing ostrich feathers.
Faces yellow, brighter around the eyes.
"Yay ho naaa."
A white line slices the face in two, forehead
to chin. Tiny, tiny, two white dots, one on each
cheek. Almost not there.
Now they are rising together. A man, all in black,
leads the call from the center. The ring of men
responds. Now the claps, syncopated, a rumble,
swell with each call. Feet pad and shuffle.
Faces yellow, faces red. Lips, full and black.
Cheeks puff, tremble. Lips part and flash white
teeth, eyes roll round and round. The line sways.
Around the edges of the dancing Wodaabe men, chaos.
Hawkers hold silver and swords and brightly colored
leatherwork to the tourists perched on the roofs
of Toyotas and Land Rovers. "What is your last
price, your best price?" Small boys with buckets
on their heads chant, "Water, water, water!" and
serve their customers from tin cans. Once-frozen
yogurt and cold milk, stored in fist-sized plastic
bags, are sold from now warm coolers.
The thunder of rainy season
lasts from August through September. As the rains
become less frequent, the nomads of Niger gather
to celebrate. The Wodaabe, one of the only Fulani
groups to wholly preserve their traditionally
nomadic life have gathered, as they do every year,
at the Cure Salee in InGall and they are dancing.
In a few weeks the Fulani will hold their own
festival gathering - the weeklong Gerewol - outside
of a town close to Maradi.
Slowly a crowd gathers around
the dancers, trying to see into the ring of tall,
lithe, young men who, holding hands, shoulder
to shoulder sway.
Leather arm-bands hung with
feathers and cowrie shells emphasize the lissome
arms and thin fingers. Chests and backs are criss-crossed
with strings of white beads. The reds, greens,
yellow, oranges and blues of the intricately embroidered
indigo and black striped clothes are lost as the
sun sets on the marketplace and darkness deepens.
The Wodaabe show their beauty,
and search for beauty - in the shiny zippers,
locks and keys incorporated into their gris gris
good luck charms; in the designs embroidered into
their their tunics. Lines of red, orange, yellow,
and blue represent themes of a winding road, snake,
visitor and encampments. The ankle-length embroidered
tunics may take as many as six months of a woman's
work. They seem to be designed to accent the men's
curved narrow waists and elongated features. Below
the tunics the men wear tanned goat skins, thin
and supple.
There are some false starts
as a new song begins and pairs of men move towards
the center and head back to their places, laughing.
Four men in white turbans and white bubus sing
counterpoint and keep the rhythm going. The chanting
goes on.
Outside the ring, speakers
blare with educational announcements in Hausa
and Tomacheck. "Filter your water!" ""Wash your
hands before cooking!" "Take your babies to get
their vaccinations!" Many people are trying to
take advantage of this once-yearly gathering to
disseminate medical information.
This dance, the yaake,
brings attention to the features the Wodaabe consider
most important: eyes and teeth. This is why the
eyes roll and widen; why the cheeks puff and split.
But with this dance it is not only the physical
features they display, charm and charisma are
at work as well.
The line of dancers ebbs and
flows. A poem is woven as they call and respond.
Each person in turn chooses a word to call and
the others repeat. It is like a game - who will
call next? Who will choose the next word?
Car lights weaving through
the market backlight the ostrich feathers and
the dancers are rendered in sharp silhouette.
Gas lanterns are small glowing orbs along the
narrow streets beyond the center square, marking
produce stalls and temporary restaurants. The
first day of Cure Salee comes to a close. The
crowd thins. Already people are anticipating the
camel races and beauty pageants of the morrow.
It is late. The last light
wanes.
And still in the night is
the constant call and response chanting and clapping
as the men dance.
Ideas about the origins of
the Fulani range from Iran to Egypt; their nomadic
lifestyle takes them nearly as far. Animal husbandry
is their mainstay and milk from long horned zebu
cattle, along with millet, is a staple in their
diet. Ancestral migration routes take the Fulani
from the south, where the rains begin, to the
north. When dry season is at hand, they will migrate
from well to well, until the rains begin again.
These Wodaabe are in the InGall area to provide
their animals with salt; some will travel as far
north as Tiggidi n'Tessoum where salt is gathered
in crystallized cakes from evaporative pools of
water.
Gabrielle
Lyon
Team Member, 2000 Expedition to Niger.
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