Treasures of the
Hand
I've been
traveling to West Africa for about 13 years and am drawn to villages that are virtually
untouched by Westernization, where the inhabitants follow ancient traditions
and make crafts by hand. In 2002 I was on research in Burkina Faso, and my
guide happened to mention a village that is so beautifully painted and stylized
as to be a work of art. In the area where it is located in southern Burkina
Faso, the villages are usually plain, without decoration. However, when I first
saw Tiebele, I was overwhelmed with its visual beauty; later I learned the deep
cultural and historical meaning of the symbology.
Tiebele is a 400-year-old village inhabited
by the Kassena people, a subgroup of the ethnic group Gurunsi. Formerly fierce
warriors, the Kassena today are primarily agriculturists who grow millet,
sorghum, and yams. The Kassena’s adobe
dwellings are painted in geometric designs, or engraved in low clay
relief with symbols like sparrows,
insects, fish scales, calabashes, the sun, and the moon; the images
reflect the complex symbology and history of the clan.
The village is a three-hour drive
from Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso. At Pô,
the provincial capital, a crude signboard points the way to Tiebele, a 20-mile
deviation on an unsurfaced road. All visitors must follow strict rules when
visiting Tiebele. The customs are
so pervasive and rigidly followed that unless you are properly briefed and
guided by an expert, you run the risk of offending the Kassena and the sacred
ground they walk on. Before I entered the village, the chief or his son,
the prince, had to approve my visit. Then a member of the village served as my
guide, cautioning me to avoid stepping on the mound of sacred stones located
just at the entrance to the village. Each stone is reserved for a notable: the
chief, members of his family, and other important members of the community.
Women who have given birth bury their baby’s umbilical cord in this sacred
mound, which is also a place of sacrifice judging from the clay pots stained
with the blood of animals.
As I walked around
this village, I realized that it was constructed for defensive purposes. The
labyrinth of narrow paths prevented intruders from attacking in a straight
line: to penetrate the courtyards of the compounds, the enemies had to walk up
three or four steps, then down into an enclosed courtyard where they could be
ambushed. The entrance to a house is small and low to the ground, which requires
one to crouch down on all fours to get into the house; once I passed through
the entrance, I encountered a two-foot wall of mud that I stooped and stepped
over (centuries ago, intruders would have been beheaded there) to finally get
inside the dark house. The ceiling was high enough for me to stand up, although
anyone taller than five foot six would have to stoop. After a few minutes, my
eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I noticed several circular openings for air
on the sides of the walls, and shelves, where clay pots were stacked high; next
to them calabashes hung in macramé stockings, like ornaments from the ceiling.
My host explained
that the clay pots and the calabashes must not be broken (as that would bring
bad luck), so they are away from her children’s reach. When she dies, the pots
and calabashes will be broken and buried with her. She led me through another
small opening in a wall into the kitchen. I saw mats, where she slept with her
children; when she dies, these will be used to wrap her dead body before she is
buried, and afterward the mats will be burned. Inside the house, she proudly
pointed out her female granary that contains her prized processions: clay pots.
She can’t peer inside a male granary, which is usually filled with grain like
sorghum and located outside in the courtyard. She motioned for me to follow her
outside and then up steep steps to the roof, from which I could see the entire
Tiebele village.
From this height,
I could see the figure-eight designs of the closely packed houses and
neighbors’ roofs spread with woven mats for sleeping and large covered
calabashes (gourds) sturdy enough to hold millet and corn. The flat roofs must
have been used for defensive purposes, as occupants could throw rocks or shoot
invaders with bows and arrows. As I gazed down at the geometric patterns in
red, white, and black, next to figures of birds, snakes, fish, crocodiles, and
herringbone designs painted on the walls of the houses and compounds, I
wondered what stories they told or magical powers they held. Children were
sitting in one courtyard listening to an elderly woman who was teaching the
meaning of each symbol.
My host explained
that the village has a cast of women painters who record the clan’s history
using painted symbols and carvings in low-relief clay. The colors were made
from natural sources: volcanic stones that yielded the color black; a
calcareous powder, probably from limestone, that yielded white; and cattle dung
and powders from certain rocks that produced red. The colors were set using the
bark of the flamboyant tree as a mordant. Because the women belong to this
occupational caste, they do not engage in any other work in the village. House
painting is always preceded by a sacrifice. Then the villagers watch the wall
for three days. During this time, a lizard must come up the wall; if not, the
wall will be dismantled and rebuilt.
I learned that
the symbology is a language that describes the clan’s history. Being animists,
the clan believes that animals, plants, and even inanimate objects and natural
phenomena possess a soul. Creation is represented by an
ancestral couple who started the clan. It is believed that the Gurunsi were
originally from northern Ghana but migrated to southern Burkina Faso about four
centuries ago, possibly to escape the slave traders. Fish scales refer to the
clan’s migration from the border of northern Ghana to this location, a two-day
walk from the Volta River. Here in their new environment, they survived on fish
from the Volta River and as a result became expert fishermen. Today, they honor
this sacred symbol in the form of a fishnet in their house designs.
Images of bats
are good signs; bats eat mosquitoes, so when they inhabit the house, it's
considered good luck. Sparrow wings refer to the belief that sparrows can eat
human flesh, so these birds are evil and are kept away from the village. The
calabash is one of the most important objects; it was the first container of
the gods, so it must never be broken. (That’s why calabashes are strung and
hung in macramé ropes, away from children and from cats.) Images of calabashes
are everywhere on the walls. Scarification marks similar to those seen on the
arms and faces of the people are also seen in the designs on the houses: the
moon, the three cross-stitches representing the chicken for sacrifice, and the
snake are considered sacred. They are therapeutic and keep away certain
diseases. The snake is the supreme protective deity, a reincarnation of the
grandmother, who after her death becomes the snake and must remain in the
house. Ants represent the social unity of the village and the work done by the
women. Lizard symbols are powerful, as they protect the home from evil spirits.
Images of panthers and turtles refer to a belief that they are protectors of
the clan and are never killed. Finally, my host told me that the symbols of the
cane and the pipe are the ones visitors identify with. When a young person
leaves the village to explore the world, he returns with a cane and a pipe to
offer to the ancestors, confirming his safe passage back to his ancestral home.
Visitors to
Burkina Faso will not want to miss this visually stunning and culturally rich
experience at Tiebele.
[MM1]Moved
this sentence from end of paragraph.
