All language subtitles for Sahara with Michael Palin 2of4 Destination Timbuktu 720p HDTV x264 AAC MVGroup org_Subtitles01.ENG

Well, welcome to the 3 o'clock ferry

from Rosso in Mauritania
over to Senegal.

We're crossing one of the great
rivers of the Sahara - the Senegal.

It's 1,000 miles long. But it's not
just a border between Mauritania,
which we've just left, and Senegal.

It also demarcates
the two sides of the Sahara -

the Arab north and the black south.

From now on, we're in black Africa.

Just before it reaches
the Atlantic Ocean,

the Senegal River swells into a wide
estuary. Everything has changed.

Sand is replaced by water.
Tents are replaced by warehouses.

And where there was only camel meat,
there's fresh smoked fish
everywhere.

This is St Louis in Senegal.

It was founded by the French
over 350 years ago -

the cornerstone of their African
empire, built in their own likeness.

Stepping off the boat is still like
stepping into provincial France.

It's amazing how little we know
about other countries' heroes.

In the 1920s and '30s, the French
were absolutely captivated by the
exploits of the daring young pilots

who made long solo flights, day and
night, to bring mail from France to
West Africa and on to South America.

One of the most famous of these
was Jean Mermoz,

and when he disappeared into the
Atlantic in December 1936, at the
age of 36, all of France mourned.

Mermoz spent his last night here
in the Hotel de la Poste, St Louis.

'Senegal has been independent
since 1960,

'but seems to be in no hurry
to shake off the French connection.'

Ah! Combien est Le Monde,
s'il vous plait? Neuf?

'By sad coincidence, today's
headlines mark the death of another
French hero, singer Charles Trenet.'

Merci. "Charles Trenet est mort."

# La mer, da-da-da-dee... #

There's no shortage of guides
to show you round the town.

But a pony and trap can quickly
become a pony and tourist trap.

I want to look beyond the colonial
picturesque for modern Senegal.

I make for
the home of Jacob Yakouba,
one of Senegal's best-known artists.

Jacob's particular genre
is the lightly clad female,
preferably quite young.

'His greatest inspiration is
his glamorous wife, Marie Madeleine,

'an actress and star
of Senegal's most popular TV soap.

'Over a communal platter
of fish balls in a spicy stew,
I ask her about her role.'

La television? Oui. On traite
un petit peu d'un probleme...

On a pris comme pretexte
un probleme religieux... Oui? Oui!

A religious problem, discussed...
Voila, qui s'appelle Bara Saudi.

In the soap opera, the great
sort of Senegalese EastEnders,

of which Marie Madeleine
is the star, she marries a man and
he has an affair and divorces her.

She wants to remarry him, and she
remarries him three times, I think,

and that's, um, the maximum you're
allowed to divorce and remarry.

After that, she wants to stay
with him, so he asks her
if she will marry his best friend.

Something like that, anyway.

..Et moi, j'ai dis non, meme si
d'Islam demande d'etre une femme
soumise... A submissive wife?

Oui, oui, oui.
Alors, moi, je me suis revolte.

So, Marie Madeleine, you are
a liberated woman on the television?
Femme liberee? Femme liberee.

'Jacob doesn't seem
quite so sure about this.

'I inquire if polygamy is common.'

Il y a beaucoup... A lot of polygamy?
JACOB: Moi, j'ai choisi monogamie.

You've chosen monogamy? Yes!

WOMEN LAUGH

And me!

A good example. I'm afraid!
Oh, you're afraid! Afraid?!
Oh, wow! You? Look at you!

Would you let...?
She is my commander!

'Would Marie Madeleine, I wondered,
allow Jacob to have another wife?'

Jamais! Never! OK! That's clear.

160 miles south of St Louis
is a small island,

which, because of safe moorings
and easy defences,

became the most successful
trading centre in West Africa.
It's called Goree.

Goree is still prosperous
and attractive,

but its beauty conceals
an ugly past.

The island of Goree
could really be any tourist trap
on the French Riviera.

But it owes its popularity almost
entirely to its infamous reputation

as a departure point for millions
of slaves, taken from the interior,

from the Sahara area, and shipped
out to the plantations in America by
the English, French and Portuguese.

WHIPLASHES

No-one knows exactly how many slaves
the Europeans bought from African
traders and shipped out of Goree.

But here in the grounds
of the old governor's mansion,

they're rehearsing a dance
which commemorates
the sufferings of many millions.

This, and other dances like it,
will be performed
for thousands of Afro-Americans

who visit Goree each year in search
of explanations and, if possible,

comfort from seeing the place
where their ancestors
had THEIR last sight of Africa.

For me, it's time to turn away
from the sea and back into Africa.

First stop,
the Senegalese capital of Dakar -
a city of inexhaustible energy.

Wrestling is the most popular sport
in Senegal,

and tonight, a crowd hails
the pan-African champion, Morf Adan.

Stars like him can fill stadiums.
Tonight, he's in his own back yard

to inspire the local boys.

I catch up with the great man -
and some sheep - in his courtyard.

He does make money from wrestling,
but he spends most of it on
his entourage. Shepherds, probably!

Outside, the champions of
the future are giving it their all.

Morf explains you need only get your
opponent's shoulders on the ground,

so a bout can last anything
from five seconds to...maybe seven!

There's such a crowd of competitors
it looks as though
it could go on all night,

so I make my apologies and
slip away. Easier said than done!

APPLAUSE

Wrestling is not the only
alternative to an early night.

Dakar has a booming music scene, and
at a jazz club near the fish market

the band includes not only locals,
but an American ex-pat - Tom Vahle.

Clubs here, they're kind of...
they're...they're kind of, you know,

they're not so sure if they want
to hire a band that doesn't play
the local Senegalese music. Right.

Do you think I need some? Well,
thank you very much. You're welcome.

Must be something I didn't...

Ah, the manager! Bee-ba-da-ba-da!

How long have you run this club?

Three months and 21 days.
Is it different
from other clubs you've managed?

Yeah. Why? How different?

The other clubs,
they were rectangular. Oh!
That wasn't the answer I expected!

But I like that!
I need space. You need space.

I am Lebou from my own origin.
You are...? I need to see this...

Lebou. Lebou is a fishing caste. Oh,
right. You're from the fishing...

Those kind of people are mine.
Were you a fisherman at one time?
I don't catch any fish!

I can throw it,
but nothing is coming, man! Right!

It's a great evening. Thank you
very much indeed. Great. Good luck
to you. According to my age...

According to my age... What is your
age? I can't believe it. 38? No, no!

38? Are you crazy? Yes, I'm crazy.

I am 60 years old, man.

60. 60 years old? Six-o.
You're just about my age, really.

No, no, no. I am older than you.
You're well preserved. He's 60 going
on 20! How do you stay in shape?

(I make love every single night!)

Yes, well, I try to, but...!

No, you cannot say it.
You don't say it. I won't say it.

Certainly not. That's it.
Every single night,
he, um...gets some exercise!

Next morning,

it's time to get myself
and what remains of my brain cells
away from the fleshpots of Dakar.

Conveniently, the French built
a railway to connect the coast with
the centre of their African empire.

'This is the Bamako Express,

'one of two trains a week between
Dakar and the capital of Mali.

'There's a nasty rumour going round
it might leave on time.'

Having followed the desert to
its western limits on the Atlantic,

and tasted big-city life in Dakar,

we're now going
to explore the desert to the east,

through the city that is more
synonymous with the Sahara than
any other - the city of Timbuktu.

The roads are lousy, so we're taking
the train to Bamako in Mali.

A mere 36 hours...if it's on time!

We shall rely on the railway to take
us 1,000 miles into the interior,

then on the steam ferry service

to carry us up the Niger River
to our destination - Timbuktu.

Sheep absolutely everywhere.

They seem to have overrun the city.

Either
they're very, very fond of sheep,

or there's some sort of sheep
convention, but everywhere...
Here's some more coming up here.

Rather well fed,
rather well looked after.

There they are,
nuzzling round the old container.

It's most odd. I've never seen so
many sheep in one place in my life.

I'm a bit of a sheep man.
Well...I like them!

Just...

in an aesthetic way!

No more... Not their little,
fluffy tails and...

bummy bits!

The city sprawls on.

Over two million people are crammed
into Dakar and its suburbs.

Many come in from the countryside,
preferring safety in numbers to
the hardships of wind and drought.

This is amazing.
It's the most extraordinary
shopping mall in the world!

It runs for about a mile beside the
train here, and everything is here.

Over there you've got people
actually making the things,
wholesale, and retail down here.

It's like a huge department store -
you've got handbags,
ladies' underwear...food hall!

WHISTLE BLOWS

The train never goes much above
a stately 30mph,

allowing plenty of time to admire
the ubiquitous baobab trees.

Its branches are so much like roots,
legend has it the devil shoved them
in the ground upside down.

'The train is packed -
largely, it seems, with women,

'all decked out
in striking West African style.

'I get talking to one of them,

'an English teacher called Dhadi,
on the perennial topic of husbands
and wives and how many of each.'

Before Islam, you know,
polygamy existed
in traditional society, you see.

And they said, OK,
the man can marry up to four wives,

so that they can work on the fields,
you know, they can help each other.

That was the idea, you see.

And then Islam entered Africa.

And men said that OK, the Koran says
that since we are Muslim,

we can marry up to four wives.

What do you think of this? Do you
approve of that? Let me tell
you something. I am against that.

I thought you might be.
I am against that.

Well, that's my opinion.
I am against... And I know why.

Why?

Let's say, first of all,
I am jealous.

Of the other wives?

I don't wanna share my husband.

And second,
in every polygamist's house,

there is always trouble.

Because co-wives, you know,
are jealous.

Sometimes they finish
before the judge,

and every day,
either in Senegal or in Mali,

because most of the time
the husband, you know, has one house,

and all the four wives, they live,
you know, in the same house.

And, you know,
you can't imagine that.

Sometimes one of the wives can go
to the marabout and try to do juju...

The marabout is...? Well,
he's a kind of a priest, you know?

You go to see them... He's a seer,
he can predict the future,

and also he can make some juju,
sometimes.

Every wife would like the man
to love her better,

and they put some powder in the food,
or in the water, you know,
things like that.

Or, sometimes,

when one of the wives is sick,
for example, she's gonna say,
"That's my co-wife. She's a witch."

Superstition, juju and black magic
remain powerful forces out here.

Qu'est-ce qu'est le plus long...?

'At supper, I get down
to more mundane considerations,
like when the train will arrive.

'I ask my businessman friend
if it's often late.

'"Well," he explains
diplomatically, "instances of it
arriving on time are very rare."

'Like the cutlery!'

Well...

We have no... Yes. Mmm.

Early next day, we cross into Mali.

Borders aren't taken that seriously
here. The main tribal groups
are spread across several countries.

But the landscape IS different.
Flat Senegal gives way
to the rocky escarpments of Mali.

The heat builds,
making concentration difficult.

Time drags on, and as we climb, we
seem to be going slower than ever.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Well, we've now completed 33 hours
of the supposedly 35-hour journey,

but we seem to be becalmed here
at some station on the way. We're
still ten hours away from Bamako.

We stopped because this train
was on the single-track line.

But our progress is a matter of
considerable chance at the moment -

whether it'll take 10 hours, or 15
or 20. It's in the lap of the gods.

Well...

Hello! Hello! Hello!

Bye-bye!

It's always a good sign when we're
actually moving - very encouraging.

There's a cloud of dust up in front.
I can't quite see the engine.

But we ARE on the move,
and we're heading towards Bamako,

and we're only ten hours late.

'I think that calls
for some sort of celebration!'

Une biere, s'il vous plait. ..Merci.

That's 500 back, so that's about...
50 pence for a beer.

Not bad.

I never quite understand, in Islamic
countries, whether they allow bars.

But obviously this train is kind
of typical of the tolerance found
in Mauritania, Senegal and now Mali.

They don't seem to be too fierce
about applying the rules. If you
want a beer, you can have a beer.

After a second, unscheduled night
on the train,

during which water and
most other supplies fail, we finally
pull into Bamako just before dawn.

I love travel. I love the promise
of new places and new faces.

But I must admit that
on Bamako Station this morning,
my mask of optimism is travel-worn.

The only good thing about this
moment is we actually got to Bamako.

It's 5am. I feel dazed and confused.
But there are a lot of people here
to help(!) Yeah. Au revoir.

Where you come from?
I don't know. Not a clue!

Mademoiselle!

A shower, a shave
and a change of underwear later,

I feel a joie de vivre
slowly returning.

Just as well. The streets of Bamako
are not for the faint-hearted!

'I take refuge at a local cafe.

'The proprietor promises to fix me
something like a double espresso.'

Well, I feel a lot better now.
Shave, clean shirt and all that.

There's the station.
We arrived in the dead of night.

Next to the station is
the Hotel de la Gare, where a group
called the Rail Band used to meet.

The Rail Band was begun by Toumani
Diabate, a musician whose album
I've been playing for three months.

It's wonderful music -
a fusion between traditional
African and contemporary music.

And Toumani lives and works
in Bamako, so I'm hoping I'll
be able to see him while I'm here,

and see how he makes the music.

RAPPING IN FRENCH

Toumani is not just a musician.

He's also a producer, and that
evening I track him down to the club
where he's watching his new rap act.

The message of their latest track
is, believe it or not,
getting kids to go to school.

Later in the evening, Toumani takes
to the stage with his own band.

The rhythms and instruments
are solidly traditional,

featuring the lute-like ngoni

the harp-like kora...
and the balafon.

Music like this
has put Mali on the world map,

and it enabled Toumani to show me
round his home city in some style.

On the way to his home, we passed
the Great Mosque in the city centre,

then, in the market, a fetish stall,

of shrunken animal heads, shows that
Islam has to coexist with voodoo.

But the day's great treat for me is
a masterclass with the man himself.

When did you start mixing the kora,
the traditional instrument, with the
more contemporary ones like guitar?

First of all, is to start
with traditional sound.

From there, I was listening to James
Brown's music, to Otis Redding's,

to Jimi Hendrix,
to Johnny Hallyday also, Salif Keita.

And so I said, "Oh, well, the kora
must be... I have to open
a new door for the kora.

"A universal door for the kora."

Did your father approve of that?

Yes. At the beginning,
he said, "Oh! Look - the children,
they are changing everything!"

So I told him -
we had a nice meeting about that -

I said, "Look, I am not changing the
kora, I am just developing the kora."

'Kora-playing, like so much else
in Malian life, is rich in history.

'Toumani's family
have been kora players
for 72 consecutive generations.'

'400 miles from Bamako lives one of
Africa's most extraordinary tribes.

'This is Tirelli, one
of the villages of the Dogon people.

'600 years ago, they retreated here
from the Islamic invasions,

'and remained, until recently,
cut off from the world.

'Today, the headman of the village
welcomes us.'

Thank you
for letting us into your home.

He said, "You are welcome.
Make yourself at home."

How many wives and children
does the chief have?

Two wives and ten children.
Wow! That's a handful.

The Dogon culture looks as if it
hasn't changed for many centuries.

Is it changing fast now that the
outside world is taking an interest?

'Amadou, my Dogon guide,
translates for the village chief.

'"Because we were cut off from the
world for so long, we developed our
own way of looking at the universe."

'Using the carvings on one of his
granary doors, he explains how the
Dogon believe the world was created.

'The god Amma first created the sun,
moon and stars, then the Earth
in the shape of a woman,

'with an anthole for her vagina and
a termite mound for her clitoris.

'He tried to make love to her, but
the termite mound blocked his path,
so he removed it.

'He tried again,
and this time twins were born.
They were half-man, half-snake,

'and lived in the heavens.

'Amma then made a human couple,
who had eight ancestors
from whom all of us are made.'

And so you have also...

'I'm still trying
to get my head round all this,

'when Amadou tells me
the Dogon were not the first people
to colonise the escarpment.

'Before them came the Tellem,
who lived on the cliff face itself.'

..Become now a tomb, where they bury
the Dogon people, if someone dies...
On the cliff? Yes, up there.

'The Tellem clearly preferred
high-rise living, relying on ropes
to get in and out of their homes.

'It seems incredible that people
should have fought each other
to live in such a bleak place,

'until you remember that 500 years
ago, the whole area was forest.'

'An echo of those more fertile times

'is the status Dogon society
still accords to the hunter.'

Terrific! This is the greeting -
they go through the entire family.

Yes, this is a greeting. And
we have to ask everyone, one by one.

Someone of them ask, "How are
your donkey? How are your cow?"

It's funny, you know, but this is
polite. You have to ask everything.

Tell him that I don't know any Dogon
at the moment, so I just say ca va?

What do they hunt here? Here, him
hunting monkeys, wild rat and dog.

Do you eat much meat here?
Oh, yes, yes.

When they are hunting and they kill
animals, they eat a lot of meat.

Sometimes, if they didn't find
animals, they kill a sheep or a goat.

A rat? Do they have a bit of rat
every now and then? Yes, they find
sometimes rats on the rocks.

The rat they are hunting up there
on the rocks, and the monkeys and the
dog, antelope... Does he shoot them?

Or does he...? Oh! This is
something he had to kill monkeys...

A monkey that's seen better days.

Right. This is a monkey's head.
Yes. Can he show me?

I see!
That's gunpowder - made here?

Yes, made here. Local gunpowder.

Yeah. What is it? It makes,
I think... This is local gunpowder.

Oh, wow! So he...

Well away from them!

GUN FAILS TO GO OFF...TWICE

Oh! Oh!

INTERPRETER ADVISES

GUN FAILS AGAIN

The monkey's positively cheering up!
GUN FAILS AGAIN

Right. Here we go again.

Oomph!

Oh-oh-oh...!

It's OK... He's OK! I just got
a blast right across my face.

It's OK. I know how you feel now!

Me too! Well, it worked! I think I
preferred it when it WASN'T working!

'Having survived the hunter,
I now have to survive a lunch
of goat, millet and baobab leaf.'

OK, so we just... Help yourself.
..grab in? Ow! Ooh, it's hot!

It's hot - very hot. Slowly.

It's very hot. Yeah.

And people say
you cannot be a strong man if you...
Oh! Well, I'm past all that now!

You have to eat when it is very hot.

This is the local food.

It's really good,
but I can't emphasise how hot it is
on the end of your fingers.

I don't know how they eat it.
My tender, artistic little digits!

'It's not just the food that's hot,
it's the temperature outside -
56 centigrade at midday.

'That's 134 Fahrenheit!

'It's the hottest meal of my life.'

The straw-capped granaries that
dot the village contain the millet
on which the Dogon diet depends.

Equally important to their way
of life are weapons, door latches
and assorted ironmongery

produced by the blacksmith with the
help of his seven-year-old daughter.

The blacksmith is one of the most
important men of the village.

In Dogon folklore, the first
blacksmith stole the fire from God.

His duties extend beyond making
things, as Amadou explains to me.

So now, another importance
of the blacksmith, when they
must do a circumcision in a village.

Circumcision? Yes, circumcision.

The blacksmith use his own knife
to cut the sex of the boys.

The blacksmith
actually does the circumcision? Yes.

And the blacksmith women
do the excision for girls.

Is female circumcision still common
here? Yes. They still partake.

They still do it in a village.

So most of the girls in this village
here will have been circumcised?
All of the girls. All of the girls.

A COCK CROWS

So...

a termite mound...

..and the ants below...

'I'm not the first one to try
and make some sense of all this.

'There's a joke that runs, "How
many are there in a Dogon family?

'"Five - two parents, two children
and one French anthropologist."'

In Dogon country, absolutely nothing
is what you expect it to be.

This maniacally joyful dance
is celebrating a funeral.

I know it's a cliche to say that
you've found somewhere different
from the rest of the world,

but in this village of Tirelli
in Dogon country, it's true.

The way of life here and
the reason for the way of life here

is quite unlike anything I've ever
seen before, and I will never see
anywhere like this again.

They've been very,
very good friends - very good hosts.

But don't tell anyone!

FUNERAL DRUMMING CONTINUES

The ancient town of Djenne,

circled by the waters
of the Bani River, is our next stop
on the road to Timbuktu.

I've hired a mobilette

to drive myself around what many
consider to be the most beautiful
of all the cities of the Sahara.

The mosque at Djenne is an
architectural marvel - the largest
mud-built structure in the world.

The streets are fine examples
of mud as an art form -

graceful and stylish,
qualities which in Mali
are not confined to the buildings.

'Djenne doubles its size
on market days.

'I'm shown around by Amadou Cisse,
known to the world as Pygmy.'

What tribe or people are you from?
I am half Fulani. Half Fulani?
What's the other half? My father,

the other half, is Songhai. Songhai?
Songhai. Oh, Songhai, yes.

Songhai empire! Yeah!
I remember that. Yeah. ..Oh, sorry.

You know an awful lot... You know
a lot of ladies, Pygmy. Yes.

It's normal. It's my city and
it's OK that you know people! Yeah.

In Mali, are the women friendly and
open? They don't mind if you come up
to say hello, though you're married?

No, it's OK, I know them since I was
a boy. It's my city and everything.

I heard that you met your wife
in the market. Is that true?

Yeah, I met her in the market,
if you want, for the first time,
and she is Fulani.

And you're Fulani?
Yes, but for me it wasn't necessary
to be Fulani or not.

For me, it only... She was very nice
for me, that every time when I come,

she bring milk, because she sell
milk, and for me, everything when she
come, I see her and she was pretty,

and young, nice, and for me, I was
always happy to be with her. Yeah.

Because first I was only buy milk...
You just came along to buy milk!

You were a customer, exactly. Buying
a pint of milk and you fell in love!

What is special about Fulani women?

What makes them so distinctive?

Can you tell a Fulani woman here
in the crowd? Yeah. She is Fulani.

OK, she is Fulani.
She is the cousin of my wife. Oh,
right! She's a cousin of your wife!

You just happened to find her here!

You see around her mouth? Yes.
That's like a tattooage.

And that's a family sign on her face.
Those marks there? Yeah, yeah.

THEY CHAT

Lovely ears.

Aagh!

Family problems! Yes, family
problems. OK, we don't need to know.

'I feel that Pygmy is the man
to enlighten me on the question
that's been on my mind since Dakar -

'sheep.'

And there are sheep everywhere.
I've seen them all through Mali.
Yeah. What's the reason?

Now it will be a Tabaske festival...

Tabaske is a major Islamic festival.
The head of the household
is required to sacrifice a sheep.

It commemorates the time God spared
Isaac, the son of Abraham,

an event common to Muslim,
Jew and Christian.

Are they all male sheep? Yeah,
complete... But do they have to be
men? Yeah, not females.

Yeah? Because of the story. Mens...
Complete, meaning what?

Complete, not with one eyes
or one leg, something like that!

'Pygmy's left it a bit late,
and like turkeys on the day before
Christmas, it's a seller's market.'

What's the problem?

Now he say 40,000. 40,000?
I need to discuss.

That's £40? Have you haggled
down a bit? Now it's 37. 37?

It's two or three people
you're dealing with.

He is the manager who knows where
to find the best sheep, but I think
he gets something from the owner.

He tells me it's a good price... And
the manager gets to trouser a few!

This doesn't happen like this
at Sainsbury's, does it?

OK. So you get the boys
to take it back for you?

Yeah, yeah. Normally
it's always when you buy a sheep...

Malian women always look
sensational, but for Tabaske,
they make a special effort.

'At Pygmy's house,
the wife he met over milk shakes

'is having her feet hennaed
by an older woman,

'who suggests there was more to
the relationship than buying milk.'

I think there's a more interesting
side to this story!

Shall I tell you what she said? All
right, tell me! If you fell in love,

and you try one time with her and
it's nice, you can't leave her alone.

You will follow her everywhere,
she says, but it's not true.

In Mali, before you get married, are
you allowed to have time together?

Can you sleep together?

Me, her? Yeah. Since the day I get
married, I never know her before,

like love, or sleep together - I
never do that before I get married.

But for the village's people,

they don't believe I never make love
or something with her.

'I like Pygmy, and the fact that
he overcame his parents' objections
to marry the woman he wanted.

'On Tabaske morning, the mosque
isn't big enough for everyone.

'They gather to worship on open
ground at the edge of town.'

What actually happens now, at this
ceremony? We pray in the daytime.

Normally, we pray after lunch
and on the afternoon.

But now, because
it is like a special ceremony,

people will pray
between 9 and 10 o'clock.
It is something very special for us.

First it is the Imam who makes
the sacrifice, kills his sheep here.

And after, people go home to do
the same thing, make the sacrifice.

IMAM CHANTS

The sheep's looking nervous,

like an actor on
his first night...and last night!

Devotions done,
the sheep is taken to the Imam

to be slaughtered. Once he's made
this first sacrifice, everyone can
head home and celebrations begin.

GREETINGS

Ah, yes. What should I say?
What's the greeting?
Sambe sambe. Sambe sambe!

Sambe sambe!

It's good. I'm very glad. I know
two words...well, one word, twice!

Sambe sambe! It's good...

'As we approach his house, I sense
that, for the first time, Pygmy's
ebullience is beginning to fade,

'as the moment comes
for him to do his duty.

'One sheep has already been
dispatched by his father.

'Now it's Pygmy's turn.

'As Auntie looks sternly on,
he's instructed in the importance
of a swift, humane technique.

'Most importantly, the cut must be
clean and the sheep mustn't suffer.

'The blood flows into the gutters,
the knife is washed,

'and within half an hour,
everything that can be eaten
is ready for the pot.

'In the finest traditions
of African and Muslim hospitality,
I'm asked to share Tabaske feast.'

He is never on time to eat!
Come on! It's all gone! C'est fini!

Mm. Thank you. Thank you.

Mmm! Do you say something?
Do you give thanks or...?

Normally we never eat
with the left hand. I know, I know.
I've made a terrible gaffe.

They are laughing because you are
not used to it. I know. I'm not.

You've got to try something new.

Find out...how people...

Are all the bits of the sheep eaten?
No.

We eat part of the sheep, and
then there is some poor people -

we give - we distribute amongst them.

And the young boys of the village -
they get the sheeps' testicles?

Yeah, that's the good luck.
It's to make them clever.

THEY MAKE RUDE NOISES

Djenne's days of greatness ended
when the River Bani silted up,

and trade moved to the nearby port
of Mopti.

I've come to Mopti
to look for the Timbuktu ferry.

The harbour's full of people,
but low on water, leaving raw sewage
exposed. No-one but me worries much.

Squalor and beauty coexist quite
happily on the Mopti waterfront.

I'm relieved to find
the Timbuktu ferries are in port.

But as I climb aboard, it
doesn't exactly look as if they're
waiting for the starting gun.

When I eventually find one
of the pilots, I get rather a shock.

Bonjour. Bonjour. Quand est
le prochain bateau pour Timbuktu,
s'il vous plait?

Juillet. Juillet? Juillet?! Oui.

Alors! A Juillet... Mars, Avril,
Juin, Juillet... Three months! Oui.

Trois mois?! Oui. C'est fini
a ce moment? Le bateau est...?

Arrete. Pas marche? Ne marche pas.

Pourquoi? Je n'ai pas assez
de l'eau. Ah! Pas de l'eau -
not enough water. Fair enough.

'The river isn't deep enough at this
time of year to take steamboats. I
shall have to find an alternative.'

Bonjour, bonjour!

Je cherche une pinasse
pour Timbuktu...

'The harbour master is sympathetic,
and appreciates that I can't really
hang around for three months.

'He asks around among the captains
of the wood-hulled cargo boats,
the pinasses, that ply the river.

'After some negotiation,
he finds one that will take us -

'the Pagou Manpagu.
It leaves tomorrow.'

'Day of departure.

'Time for Englishman in silly hat
to take on provisions.'

Combien? Cent?

Trois cents. Trois cents?
Trois cents, c'est tres cher,
n'est-ce pas?

Mais...vous etes tres belle. Merci.

Au revoir.

Look, we have some nanas!

The river's encouragingly busy.
Indeed, it looks as if we'll be
leaving in the middle of rush hour!

I squelch through the mud and filth

for what I pray will be the last
time, and sling my bag on deck.

Unfortunately, there IS no deck -

just an open hull below
and a small farm up on the bridge.

There's no denying
the sense of anticipation
as we finally get under way -

past my stranded ferry boat
and out to join
the Sahara's most famous river.

I'm now at last on the Niger River,

which runs in a great curve out into
the desert and back into Nigeria.

About 200 years ago,
no Westerners had really seen it.

They decided they had to find out
about this part of Africa and the
wealth being carried on the river.

Mungo Park, who wrote Travels
Into The Interior Of Africa, was
the first Westerner here, in 1796.

Then, of course, the race was on
to try and get to Timbuktu, which
was the legendary city on the river.

Mungo Park never made it there,
but others did.

I hope WE will - that the wind
doesn't strengthen any more!

There's no restaurant as such on
board, but food is always available.

The kitchen is,
well, just about anywhere.

At one stop,
Kristin, a Norwegian, comes aboard.

She's lived in Mali for some years,
studying Fulani women and customs.

The other thing lots of people have
said still goes on is circumcision -
male and female circumcision.

Is that true,
from your experience of the society?

It's very hard to resist,
and to fight against circumcision.

And to be a woman here,
you should be circumcised.

Do you think...?
I mean, the European view would be

that there's something
a bit barbaric and cruel and um...

that it ruins the pleasure of sex
for women, and all that sort
of thing. Do you think that's true?

It's quite sure that what is sexual
pleasure here and in Europe,
I think it's quite different.

And we have a tendency of thinking
that sexual pleasure is quite...

is impossible for a circumcised
woman. I don't share that opinion.

And what men find attractive
here in Africa

doesn't necessarily correspond with
what is attracting a man in Europe.

In Europe, a woman should be skinny,
but here,

a woman should be fat. Yeah, I've
noticed. That's very contradictory.

'She's also a part-time Christian
missionary - not an easy thing
to be in a Muslim country.'

Isn't it hard to convert Muslims
to Christianity?

I have never considered evangelism
or the Biblical message
in...in numbers, counting.

It's what is in the heart,

and, you know, the most important
is to love each other.

So if people see me
and see me acting understand that,

and are asking me questions,
I will respond to them.

And if you go into a dialogue,
it will be fine...
I think we've run aground!

We ran aground? This is the hazard
of going up the Niger River!

It looks very wide, but it's very
shallow, especially at this point,
don't you think? We hit a sandbank.

It's not profound at all. What?
It's very common. Is it? Yes.

So they're going to push us off with
those great big poles? Yes, I think.

Do you travel up the Niger a lot?
Yes. Do you? Yes. I love it. Really?

It gives me a great satisfaction.

It's so colm... Calm! Calm? Yes.
It's very tranquil at the moment,
isn't it?

'As the mighty River Niger is
revealed to be barely waist-deep,

'there's not much to do except find
out a little more about each other.'

Have you any idea
of the number of converts, people
who have converted to Protestantism?

I know... You know?
..people that have been converted.

From Islam to...?
From Islam to Christianity.

We have been working in Mali
for 15 years.

Just to determine my...

Determine? What do you call it?
To determine? Determine.
..the number...it's improper.

I don't... 100? 1,000?
It's not a good question.

It's like, it's not
what it's about at all, the numbers.

Even though it was 100 or 1,000
or even one, it's the same thing.

It's important to be present
and to act in society. Yeah. Mm.

And to get people to see
what they are doing.

And I don't count in souls
or converted... No, I just...

roughly, whether you knew
if it was thousands or hundreds
or ones or twos, that was all.

Because then I can say, "Yes, well,
a number of people have converted
in Mali." But I don't know how many.

So you're not going to tell me. No.
I think it's a ridiculous question.

After another day and a half
on the river, I'll ask again! Maybe!

Perhaps not surprisingly, Kristin
jumps ship to avoid more questions,

and goes ashore on a fishing boat,
which is probably just as well,

as there's only one hammock.

Well, it's about 6:35,
night falling over Africa,

and, um...we're still on the same
sandbank we stuck on earlier,

when I was talking to Kristin,

so I don't know how long
it's going to be...

It could be all night. But it's
very comfortable in hammock class.

Well, no-one ever said
getting to Timbuktu would be easy.

So what more can an Englishman do,
but lie back and think of Africa?