Festival au Desert
© Kevin Moloney, 2008
Originally published in the New York Times, May 11, 2008
ESSAKANE, Mali, Jan. 10, 2008 — The Festival au Desert is muddled in time.
Tuareg men in billowing clothes and brightly colored turbans duck in and out of leather and canvas tents. Camels caravan into camp by the hundreds and fold up their ungainly legs as vendors prepare their wares for an invasion of foreign travelers.
Nearby a stage rises out of the dunes, decked in modern sound and lighting gear. Off-road vehicles unload tie-dyed travelers and international musicians fresh from the stomach-churning drive from Timbuktu. Digital cameras flash. Cell phones sing. MP3 players whisper into western ears.
After dark, turbans bob in peaceful Tamashek-language conversation around simple fires. Amplified electric Malian blues guitar music floats from a nearby dune. A cluster of Tuaregs around the guitarist clap and cheer for his work.
This collision of cultures, where performers from around the world mix and play with local colleagues, is mostly a joyous success. But like all collisions, there is sometimes a shock.
After the festival starts with a few West African bands, M. Monte, an Austrian punk accordion player, takes to the stage. His spiked hair stabs at the air.
Monte performs alone with a classic accordion and a couple of megaphones repeating prerecorded vocal loops. He screams angry German lyrics to well-played, atonal music.
The crowd gapes. As the westerners laugh and clap and savor the oddity of the moment, most of the Africans look on in horror. I turn around and photograph a trio of traditionally dressed Tuareg men holding their ears.
Elsewhere western blues band Dirtmusic jams in the sand with African musicians, and the Canadian Inuit circus troupe Artcirq tumbles for a rapt crowd.
Top acts, from Robert Plant to Jimmy Buffett, have made their way to the remote festival in recent years, but the majority are local blues and west African roots musicians. This year's special guest is Tinariwen, the Turaeg band that recently caught international attention and a spot opening for the Rolling Stones.
As night darkens the sky around the modern stage I turn and look over my shoulder. Oblivious to the bright lights and loud music, camels shuffle atop the nearest dune and a crescent moon sets behind Tuareg riders. I smile. My eyes and ears are hundreds of years apart.