The Teacher

THE TEACHER: This father is teaching Arabic to his son. When I met him, he was also teaching Arabic to Bintou, the little girl with the tablet covered in Koranic scripture, from the village of Tchinwagari.  Those of you who have read my previous posts know that I am sometimes (often) frustrated with the reticence that people in the Azawak have sending their children to school.  Read more…

Why School?

In this photo, the chief of Tangarwashane, Mohammed, fetches water for his son.  Like most other Touareg fathers I know, he would do most anything for his children.  And while he is the village chief, he shares in daily village tasks with the other village men, such as caring for the community borehole built by @ammanimman, tending to their community garden, caring for the livestock, etc.  His function as chief is to help guide the community through his experience and wisdom, and to make final decisions when a consensus cannot be reached. Read more…

Mother or Child

MOTHER OR CHILD: This Wodaabe child that I met at a Gerwul ceremony is already a mother.  She is so young, and yet participates in this festival where she may find another man to elope with if she is displeased with her first husband.  She seems so young to me, with my western perspective.  And yet, ironically, it seems to me that Wodaabe girls marry a little later than their Touareg counterparts.  While they might be betrothed as early as 14, they may also marry as late as 16. Read more…

From Gerewols to Schools

FROM GEREWOLS TO SCHOOLS: Fada, adorned with charm talismans, a round feather- topped hat and a Tuareg saber, came bouncing toward me as I struggled to walk through through prickly burrs. “Hey, follow me, I’ll show you where it’s best to step,” he said. “Come to my camp. It’s just over that dune.” Two hours and about 2,000 prickly burrs later, with a herd of long-horned cows following, we arrived at his home: a wooden bed and a table covered with calabashes. Read more…

Red Ribbon: Mariama

RED RIBBON: MARIAMA
In this photo, Mariama proudly displays the red ribbon that I gave to her, upon my arrival back in Tangarwashane after almost a year away.  Like her other girlfriends, she came running up to me chanting “Alzhara, Alzhara”, and cheered with glee when I pulled out a red ribbon for her and the other girls.  They all immediately attached the ribbons in their braided hair, creating a harmonious unison of flowing red throughout the village. Read more…

Mouheini

MOUHEINI: Mouheini and her group of little girl friends were my shadows during the month that I lived with their nomadic community.  They walked with me to neighboring camps as I conducted my Fulbright research, took me to visit marshes and wells, taught me traditional games and words of Tamachek, and ate illiwa by my side. Read more…