Korhogo - Niofoin - Ngoro Virgin Dance - Boundiale

After visiting the toilet four times in the night, I finally give up at 04:55. Everything hurts by this time, anyway (my stomach, knees, hip, and back), so I get up and take some painkillers.

The cold shower doesn’t exactly lighten my mood, but it transpires that it is my fault for turning the lever the wrong way. David’s shower just after mine is apparently lovely and warm. Humph.

Breakfast

The rolls are fresh, the Marmite is tasty, and there are even hard boiled eggs to go with it. The day is already getting better.

For a while.

As we are moving on to pastures new today, we have to settle the bill. All food is already included in the package, but we have some drinks to pay for, as well as laundry. There is a sign on reception that states: “We accept Visa” so we pull out a credit card. It turns out the sign is for decoration purposes only. Thankfully we do have cash.

We leave Korhogo this morning on the usual pot-holed-styled road and head west towards Boundiali.

But first we must pick up a local facilitator who will help smooth the way today, and get us access to some sacred villages where you cannot just rock up and visit. This means that Mathias has to move all the luggage around, so that he can fold down the ‘jump seat’ in the very back, and Lamin, the new guide, can have the front seat next to the driver.

Mathias surrounded by water bottles!

Niofoin Village

The inhabitants of this small village belong to the Kassèbele, a sub-group of the Senufo tribe, and are 100% animists.

In order to retain the traditional and sacred style of the village, the chief refused the government’s offer of installing electricity.

The sacred Fetish Shrine
Only the priest is permitted to enter this hut, with its thick, conical straw roof. The shrine houses a sacred fetish, which is visible only to the initiated.

The different colours on the roof is the result of new straw being added every year and thus shows the age of the shrine.

The Poro Secret Society is very much part of the life of the Senufo people. Only men study the Poro, usually starting at the age of seven. A male Senufo is not considered a man until he has completed these studies, which are in three stages, each lasting seven years. Poro teaches them responsibility, wisdom, authority, power, a deeper understanding of mythical and religious traditions, and a good relationship between the living world and the ancestors. The initiated men enjoy a higher status in society as well as privileges not afforded to the uninitiated.

Every seven years when a new generation of initiated men come out and take over being in charge of the shrine and worshipping the fetishes, the shrine will be completely renewed, including re-plastering the walls.

The Keepers of the Shrine

People come here with offerings in order for the féticheur (a person who uses occult powers to predict future events and to make curses, a witch-doctor or shaman if you like) to communicate with the spirits and give advice on how to solve their issues. If your problem is big and serious, you need to bring a cow to sacrifice, if the question is more of a medium size, a goat will suffice, and for small matters, a chicken is plenty, or even some eggs. In return, the féticheur may give the visitor herbs that they should bathe in during the night, so that no-one can see them.

Skulls of goats previously sacrificed

Dogs are also commonly offered to the shrine, each of these ropes once belonged to a dog that has been sacrificed.

The animals are slaughtered by dedicated butchers, and the blood is disposed of into this hole in the ground.

The meat is cooked in the kitchen, but only initiated men are permitted to eat (ie those who have completed the initiation into the Poro ‘Secret Society’).

Niofoin is the main location for sacrifices in the country, and this is only one of such shrines in this area. It is not just the local villagers who come here to make sacrifices, people from all over the country arrive here to ask for all sorts of things, such as a cure for sickness, financial gain, having a good crop, exam success, or a good marriage. Unfortunately not everyone comes with good intentions, some people may ask to have a spell put on one of the enemies, for instance. Even the president has visited, although I don’t know whether he asked for success or put a curse on the opposition! In 2024 Ivory Coast hosted the African Host of Nations football tournament, and the players came here to make a sacrifice and ask for luck, which obviously worked, as they won!

A bas relief on the walls of the shrine commemorates the event.

House of Kafounda
This open-sided structure is the equivalent of the town hall, where village elders will come to solve any community problems.

Behind the shrine a couple of initiated men are carving up a cow and a goat. These have been sacrificed, not so much as offerings to the fetishes, but to feed visitors to an upcoming funeral for one of the community members. Everyone can eat this food, not just the initiated.

The blood is collected in a bowl ready to be symbolically poured into the hole in the ground.

In a smaller shrine, a cooking pot is waiting for the meat to be chopped up.

Granaries
These adobe huts are used to store various crops such as rice, sorghum, and millet, with enough food to last the family the whole year until the next harvest.

Lamin explains how there are different floors inside the hut, and crops are filled from the top. A person will then head inside to hand any grains to someone on the outside each time it is required.

Lamin explains how the grain stores operate

Part of the agreement for visiting this village, is that we bring gifts. Lamin has arranged bon-bons (lollipops) for the children, and as soon as he gets the bag out, he is completely mobbed by the village kids.

I am not sure I agree with this practice of giving sugary sweets to children who have little or no access to dentists, although I guess if they only have visitors once or twice a month as Mathias suggests, there is probably little harm done.

At the end of the visit, we gather the children around us for a souvenir photo which we then print out and give to the chief. All the kids love it, and a lot of pushing and shoving ensues with every single child trying to grab the image. Eventually the chief hands it over to the oldest girl, who immediately runs off with her new prized possession.

Police Check Point

At the first such check point today, the policeman speaks for ages with Solo (our driver), and then says that his “paperwork is not in order” and asks him to step outside and across to the other side of the road where two of his colleagues are waiting. He seems to be there for a rather long time, so Lamin goes off to join them. After another extended period, Mathias also gets out of the car to go and find out what is going on.

Mathias comes back with the other two still over there, stating “I had to walk away before I said something I’d regret”. He explains that the officers are just trying to get ‘tips’ or ‘baksheesh’ from Solo. His drivers licence is in order, the carte grise (vehicle licence) is also in order, but as the company Solo works for owns the car, not Solo himself, the car is registered in the name of the head of the company. Eventually, after the cops realise that Solo and Lamin are not going to hand any money over, they are finally let go 'with a warning'.

Hotel La Paysan

Boundiali is not flush with tourist class hotels, so while it is somewhat basic, this is considered the best hotel in town. It is also, in Mathias’ opinion, the only place he feels comfortable taking his guests for food, so we order lunch while Mathias and Lamin check us in.

The restaurant

My first choice, the brochette, is not available, so I order spaghetti with tomato sauce, as does David. My tummy, which is still rather unhappy, appreciates the plain food, and while maybe a little uninspiring, it is tasty and filling. David is a little disappointed, however, at not being able to have a beer with his meal – it’s a Muslim hotel (and town).

By the time we have finished lunch, our room is ready. It is the furthest room from the reception, but touted to be the best room in the hotel. The whole hotel looks tired and jaded, but it appears they are trying to remedy that, with works taking place in the central courtyard and in another wing.

While in need of a little TLC, our room is pretty big, with a separate sitting area, and a large bed.

The toilet seat cover is ....erm.... 'interesting'.

The problem with active renovations taking place, is that everywhere smells dusty!

Shea Butter Production

On our way to the Traore Family Compound where we will be shown how they produce shea butter, Mathias spots a shea tree and stops for me to photograph it.

The fruit is harvested from the trees early in the mornings, with the seeds removed from the fruit in situ to save having to carry the much heavier fruits. The fruits are also edible, and sometimes local kids will eat them, or they are left for animals to feast on. We are a little early for the season, which doesn’t happen until May-June-July.

Sometimes the seeds are even boiled before taken back to the village, as they become lighter after boiling.

Shea Seeds

Traore Family Compound

We are greeted at the entrance to this small settlement by a couple of wandering musicians.

Once boiled, the seeds are spread out on the ground to dry off. The nut is then separated from the kernel by cracking it using a stone.

The kernel

Not all the kernels are suitable for creating shea butter, so they have to sort the good from the bad.

The good kernels are ground into a powder using a pestle and mortar, then placed in a large pot and stirred “like you’d knead bread”.

The good oil will float on the top, while the bad oil sinks to the bottom.

Bad oil left at the bottom.

This bad oil is mixed with the bad nuts from earlier, to create soap.

Balls of soap

Lamin, who speaks the local language translates the lady’s explanations for us, but I keep hearing “ciabatta” instead of “shea butter”, and “soup” when he says “soap”.

The good oil turns solid and yellow after a day.

One bowl of nuts becomes one bowl of shea butter.

The families take the shea butter to the market or the bus station to sell. It is sold by weight, with one kg fetching 2000 francs, which is around £2.50. We buy a kilo to take home, as does Solo. I have previously bought shea butter at the Body Shop in the UK, where the same amount would cost me over £100.

Chogonan Village

[/b]Our next stop is to see the Bamba family’s tchapalo production. Tchapalo is the French name for the beer which is known locally as dolo.

Maize kernels are dipped in water, then spread out inside a dark room and covered for one or two days until sprouted, by which time they have a ‘distinct’ smell.

The sprouting kernels are sent to the local mill, and the resulting powder is mixed with ground okra and water.

Dried Okra

The bark of a tree known locally as boblo, is soaked in water to extract a peppery juice which is added to the beer mix.

The mixture is then boiled for eight hours to produce a cloudy ‘beer’.

Despite already having an upset tummy, I take sip of the cup offered to us, which has an overwhelmingly peppery flavour.

Mathias explains that it is sold in plastic litre bottles, at a cost of around 25p each. The drink is mildly alcoholic, and he claims some people can drink up to four litres at a time. In my 20s I remember a friend once drank 16 pints of beer in a single evening, so I suppose 4 litres is not that unreasonable, but the inside of their mouths must be burnt to cinders by the pepper.

Ngoro Virgin Dance

As soon as we arrive in the village of Kounouman, the musicians, carrying enormous xylophone-like instruments known as balafons, start playing, accompanied by two men on wooden bulbous-topped flutes, and others with the local tam tam drums.

A group of young men wearing conical straw hats and white trousers adorned with colourful tassels start dancing in a large circle around the ‘arena’ (in reality just an open patch of dirt in the village).

They are joined by an older shirt-less guy cracking a whip, who is the master of ceremonies as well as the local fétcheur.

Later the virgins arrive. They are naked from the waist up, with large straw pom-poms attached to their backs, and carrying smaller paper tassels in their hands.

They dance in a smaller circle inside that of the young men, around an unlit fire.

The Ngoro Dance is a multifaceted celebration as part of the initiation into the female secret society for young Sanufu girls. The female equivalent of the Poro, is known as Mende, and this rite of passage includes learning how to look after the home, raise children, treat illnesses, and the general role of women in society. The girls enter the Mende at a very early age, spending time in the sacred forest, learning the necessities from their elders. This dance is usually performed to celebrate the virgins returning from the forest.

Once the girls are married, they stop dancing, handing over to the younger generation.

Someone lights the fire in the centre of the dance stage.

Once the fire is in full flow, the féticheur approaches the fire and sits on it, dragging himself around to much smoke and cheer from the local children.

He picks up one of the hot embers, places it in his mouth, then brings it over to us and tries to get David to hold it. When David refuses, he throws it on the floor.

He then returns to the fire, using his body to make sure it is properly put out. His resistance to fire is symbolically the manifestation of his power, and his ability to heal the injured.

After the dancing we take photos with the girls, some of the young men and musicians. Mathias explains that some tourists find the girls’ breasts offensive, in which case they will cover themselves with gourds. I cannot comprehend how anyone can find female breasts offensive (but consider it perfectly acceptable for the men to dance shirt-less), especially when exhibited as part of a cultural ritual. I have, however, pixillated the ‘offending’ body parts, just in case.

We used our small portable printer to give a copy of this to the chief, and when the féticheur said he would like one with just us and him, we obliged.

The local children are much more ‘civilised’ (calmer) in this village than the one this morning, and come over to us, eager to be photographed.

They love it when David turns the screen on his camcorder around and they can see themselves being filmed.

When we leave, they all come running to wave us goodbye.

Hotel La Paysan

Back in the room, there is definitely something in the air, especially in our lounge area, which is nearest the door to the outside, presumably letting in dust from the refurbishments outside. It smells dusty and somewhat sweet, and immediately sets my nose off.

The works being carried out right outside our room.

Dinner

There is no smelly dust in the restaurant (which has the door closed at all times, and is much further away from the ‘building site’). We do, however, notice a mosquito in the room, the first one we have seen on this trip. As I have been suffering with the runs all day, I skip dinner, but David enjoys his poulet au frites (a staple in almost every single restaurant in this country).

The bed is rock hard, with just a thin sheet covering, but I am tired after a day full of onslaughts on the senses so hoping it won't stop me sleeping.

Thank you to Undiscovered Destinations and their local team for arranging this incredible adventure.