Dogon funerals. (photo essay).

While living as a Peace Corps volunteer in the Dogon villages of Dologou and Kedialy from 1996 to 1998, I had the opportunity to observe several funerary rituals, dama, which incorporate many of the famous Dogon masks and statuettes. The elaborate celebrations mark the passing of the deceased person's spirit, nyama, from the earthly realm to the afterlife. They are becoming increasingly rare in the Dogon region because of the growing popularity of Christianity and Islam. In many villages Christian and Muslim funerals far outnumber the traditional practice, and years may pass between one dama and the next.

Although there are only about 400,000 Dogon living in an area of northern Mall about the size of Connecticut, they speak approximately 120 dialects, many of which are not: mutually comprehensible. Other aspects of Dogon culture, including the major rituals, also vary greatly from village to village. In the case of the dama, the timing, types of masks involved, and other ritual elements are often specific to one or two villages and may not resemble those seen in locations only several kilometers distant.

In Dologou the dama consists of two multiday events, the yingim and the danyim, which are held annually to celebrate all the deaths that occurred in the village over the past year. A particularly venerable member of the village merits the yincomoli, a one-day ritual performed immediately after the death. Rarely held, it: incorporates elements of the two larger rituals.

The images in this essay are from three dama ceremonies that took place in Dologou and neighboring Kedialy. (1) The villages are so close that celebrations originating in one sometimes spilled into the other. In February and April of 1997, a yingim and a danyim were held for village elders Buruli, Elelu,, and Tege Kassogue. The February 1998 yincomoli marked the passing of Kedialy's oldest resident and a personal friend, Ambasagou Kassogou. The dancers, though they remained anonymous behind their masks, were my neighbors, colleagues, and friends.

The four-day yingim involved the sacrifice of many valuable cows and large mock battles that were staged to chase the nyama out of the village and onto the path toward the afterlife. The six-day danyim, held a month and a half later, was marked by the appearance of masqueraders, who performed every morning and evening on the deceased's rooftops, in the village square, and through adjacent fields. Until the masks have danced and the attending rites [lave been performed, many a misfortune--from miscarriage to failed crops--can be blamed on the lingering spirits of the dead.

Increasingly, dama such as those I documented in Dologou and Kedialy are becoming dissociated from their original context. In the more accessible Dogon communities such as Sangha and other popular adventure-tourist destinations, they have been transformed into theatrical presentations that can be arranged for a fee at any time of the day or year. The charge varies depending on which and how many masks the visitors request to appear. Supplementary fees apply if the group wishes to photograph the event. Filming may be even more costly.

It is extremely difficult for tourists to visit Dogon country on their own. They are urged to enlist the services of a guide, who will lead them on a prescribed route that includes the most arresting vistas, where photographing is allowed free of charge. Enter one of the villages on this very well-beaten path, however, and be prepared to pay the going rate to take pictures of women pounding millet or elders resting in the toguna.

While capitalizing on the wealth of Western tourists is clearly a goal, there is perhaps a more subtle intention and historical reason for" this strategy. In the fourteenth century the Dogon sought refuge from invading peoples, settling in the inhospitable terrain of the Bandiagara Escarpment. This move not only saved lives but also preserved a way of life. Seven hundred years later, one can interpret the controlled tourism in Dogon country as a testament to the Dogon ingenuity for maintaining privacy and safeguarding their" culture.

My own work as a photographer has been greatly influenced by the approach I took when I lived in Mall. Whether focused on Dogon mourners or, in my current project, men living with AIDS in Washington, D.C., it has often been predicated on long-term personal relationships with the people to be documented. With the luxury of time, the regard of the subject can move from confrontational and guarded to direct and open. It is this collaborative spirit that I seek.

This page:

Top: From their rooftops, women and children watch the danyim celebration that constitutes the second part of the dama. Close contact with the masks that appear during the danyim is believed to cause sterility and miscarriages. Kedialy, 1997.

Bottom: Masqueraders enter the fields of the hogon, the religious leader. Danyim ceremony, Dologou. 1997.

Opposite Page:

Yanouthou Kassogue, chief of Kedialy, with his yo domolo staff at a yincomoli, a funeral celebration that incorporates elements of the yingim and the danyim. Reserved for the most venerable villagers, yincomoli is a rare event. The deceased, Ambasagou Kassogue, was the oldest person in Kedialy and a member of the society of ritual thieves, whose emblem is the staff. Kedialy, 1998.

Opposite page:

Top: Men fire blank charges during mock battles intended to guide the spirit of the deceased onto the path to the afterlife. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1998.

Bottom: Ritual elements adorn the entrance to a home within the family compound of Ambasagou Kassogue on the morning of his yincomoli. Kedialy, 1998.

This page:

Top: The symbolic smashing of a gourd over the deceased's hoe, wooden bowl, and burial blanket (bundukamba) announces the arrival of the masks. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1998.

Bottom: A masqueraders wears the Yana Gulay mask, made of cotton strip-cloth and cowry shells, which impersonates a Fulani woman. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1998.

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Kanaga masqueraders sit next to the bundukamba blanket, which represents the body of the deceased. The same blanket was used at the time of death, often weeks or months earlier, to transport the body from the home to a cave burial chamber. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1998.

Page 75:

Satimbe masks represents the women ancestors who, according to legend, first discover the role of the masks in escorting the spirits of the dead onto the path to the afterlife. Yincomoli ceremony, Dologou, 1997.

Opposite Page:

The tall Sirige mask is danced during the funerals of men who were alive during the holdings of a Sigui ceremony, which occurs approximately every sixty years. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1997.

This page:

A young woman wears a funeral necklace of bitter eggplants. These necklaces, also made from yam, peanuts and other available vegetables, are discarded at the end of the ritual. Yincomoli ceremony, Kedialy, 1998.

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The images appearing in "Dogon Funerals" are available to museums, galleries, and educational/cultural institutions for use in advertising, editorial, or collateral media such as websites or displays. Original prints are also available. For more information visit www.shawndavisphoto.com or contact Shawn Davis at [e-mail] [phone].

SHAWN R. DAVIS is a Washington, D.C., freelance photographer. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, World View Magazine, Peace Corps publications, nonprofit web sites, and elsewhere. A segment of his latest work, "Coming Home," documenting life in a home/hospice for formerly homeless men living with AIDS in Washington, D.C., is on exhibit through August 31, 2002, at the Galeria de Arte Rene Portocarrero in Havana.