Dream Dictionary

Dreams hold a special significance to the Malinkes. Below is a dictionary - abridged - to assist you in interpreting your dreams Malinke-style.

COW - If you dream of a cow, then be careful. This dream is a bad omen. There's a chance you may get eaten by a sorcerer. 

CRYING - Dreams seem to inhabit an opposite world, according to the Malinke. Thus, if you dream of tears, this heralds something positive and abundant that will come your way, be it money or children.

DARK CLOTHING - 

The dreaded sorcerer.

Much like the cow dream, if you dream of dark clothing, this is bad. You will get eaten by a sorcerer. Sorcerers, like djinnos, are bad spirits that eat human flesh. Often owls are believed to be sorcerers and will be killed upon sighting.

FISH - Congratulations! Dreaming of fish is a good sign; it means you will have a kid. In the West, we often think of having children as a financial drain. Here in Senegal, kids are considered a sound financial investment, since they will be the ones to provide for the parents later in life.

FLYING - Flying dreams are a good sign. You are able to escape from the flesh-eating sorcerer!

LAUGHTER - Like the crying dream, the laughing dream portends opposite results. Something will happen to you to cause tears in real life.

LIGHT CLOTHING - This is good! (Alas, I was not able to get any further explanation than "C'est bon, quoi.")

LION - If this king of the forest appears in your dreams, it's cause for rejoicing - you will come into some money! Lions, while they are a real fear here (one volunteer spotted one on the main road in the nearby Niokolo Koba Park), also represent heroic deeds. (Be looking out for a future entry on Sundiata Keita, the Lion King.)

MARRIAGE - Again, we have opposite implications here. If you dream of a marriage, soon someone in real life will die.

PERSON - If a specific person appears in your dream, they will soon enter your life. Recently, I dreamed that the husband of my host aunt, who has been away for months working in the gold mines, returned to Diakhaba. I told my Aunt Noba this and she became incredibly excited, telling me this meant he would be coming home soon. 'Soon' is often loosely defined here. A month later, and my uncle still hasn't showed up.

SNAKE - The snake, like the fish, means you will have a kid.

A snake bringing good news.

These twins slightly resemble my grandmother.

TWINS - Twins are very significant to the Malinkes. They are thought to have special powers of perception, particularly in the realm of dreams. My grandmother, for example - Hawa Soukho - often has dreams that come true, such as the death of certain people. Hawa is a Muslim version of the Christian name Eve. Often twins are named Hadama and Hawa, or Adam and Eve.

WATER - Water indicates a long life. My cousin, Soma, recently told me of a dream he had in which, Issa-like, he walked on water. This greatly pleased my family, who told him he would live to a ripe old age.

A glimmering, shimmering body of water.

                            *******************************************************

                 

               The distinguished artists, hard at work.

The Key of D (iakhaba)



 Music is an integral part of life in Diakhaba, but not in the way I expected. Instead of griots singing of my family's ancestors, people blare the radio constantly. A griot of today's world, the radio here sings the praises of Akon and Rihanna, Beyonce and Alpha Blondy. What happened to the traditional music that West Africa is so famous for? While it's important to acknowledge that musical globalization has stretched its murky fingers into the villages of Senegal, nonetheless it's tradition that interests me the most.

Eric Charry, author of Mande Music, describes the four spheres of professional musicians. The stories of the hunter heroes are extolled, often by a calabash harp called a simbi. The griots sing the praises most often of individual people - rulers or warriors. Then there are the djembe players who are present at most life cycle events - baptisms, circumcisions, weddings. Finally there are the modern musicians who draw inspiration from the three other spheres. In my village, besides the modern musicians on the radio, it's the djembe players - particularly at weddings - that have appeared most frequently.

I am awfully fond of the djembe player in Diakhaba, Fode Sylla, ever since he came to my house and we rocked out together. I decided to invite him over to my house again, along with 2 or 3 women who are known for their singing prowess, to do some recordings for a radio show. Half the village showed up. The women brought buckets of peanuts to shell. One person brought candy to distribute to everyone. And one by one they stepped forward to share their songs. One woman present referred to me as a toubab. The others quickly corrected her. (What's wrong with your eyesight? Can't you see she's black like us?) The woman got on her knees, dropped her headscarf at my feet, and asked my forgiveness. Then she sang a song to the group about the importance of being welcoming and accepting of foreigners. Other song themes included humility, remembering people not present, and the value of confiding our secrets to each other.

As the moon looked on, my grandmother got up to sing a song. It was a song about me - about my courage in coming to Senegal and how she hopes I won't forget my village when I go back to America. ("Bilai walai - on God's name I won't," I said.) Finally, someone asked if I was going to play my flute. The Malinke verb used for playing an instrument is xa fo, literally "to speak," as if the instrument were an extension of the body, speaking the music that comes from inside the musician. I spoke the flute while Fode spoke the djembe until the party broke up.

Clearly, music is more than a succession of sounds strung together. It tells stories, recounts histories, and reinforces values. The danger of replacing this with American pop music is too obvious to be mentioned, yet I was heartened to see all the generations gathered together that night, enjoying the music of their mothers and aunts and grandmothers.

How sweet the sound, indeed.