تاريخ الفتاش (Timbuktu Chronicles 1493-1599)

the great saint whose acts of piety are recounted in the Ta’rikh al-fattāsh. Even today, Kati and Bagayoko are considered to be Timbuktu’s greatest saints. These holy men lie buried in the two biggest tombs in the graveyards of Timbuktu. Muhammad Bagayoko’s tomb is the largest, a Ka’ba-shaped structure with a small door. People still gather at the tomb of Muhammad Bagayoko to study the Qur'an. Kati’s tomb is only a little smaller, but not in as good repair. When Kati was buried, I learned, the gravediggers found water in the tomb where they placed the body. For this reason, the people of Timbuktu pray that Kati will intercede for them and bring them rain. I had known that al-Hājj Mahmūd Kati was Timbuktu’s greatest author, but I could see now that he was more than a mere scribe to the modern people of Timbuktu: he was also a great saint, a holy man with the power to change the weather, even four centuries after his death.

After three tedious days on a pinasse (a type of wooden boat) bound for Gao, I finally arrived in the former capital of the Songhay Dynasty, where the Askiya Muhammad is buried. My second afternoon in town, I boarded a small motorboat to tour the Rose Dunes of Quema, located just outside of Gao, where the Askiya Muhammad was once banished by his son, the accursed Askiya Musa. On the boat, as we motored towards the Rose Dunes, the air grew cool. Rice fields hedged the placid waters outside of Gao, a crop that is not harvested until January. All around us, pirogues (traditional narrow canoes) floated over the misty waters. Fisherman worked their nets, as farmers hoed their rice fields. From beyond the shores of the river, Gao seemed a mysterious and quietly beautiful town. As we approached Quema, I asked my guide Muhammad what we would find there. Quema was the most ancient Songhay village, he told me, the true center of Songhay magic and sorcery, but it was not the place from which the great fish once ruled. The great fish ruled further up the river at Kukiya. The fish never ruled from Quema. The fish was bigger than a man, but not bigger than a pinasse.

It was about the size of a hippopotamus. The brothers from Medina killed the fish in Kukiya, and it was there that they had established their throne. This event marked the beginning of the Dia Dynasty, from which all the Shi’s trace their origins, but the big fish bore no true relation to Quema.

“What kind of fish was it?” I asked. “What did it look like?”

“It was a catfish. The waters here have catfish, but the Songhay will not eat catfish,” he said. “It is true that the Bambara will eat them, but the Bambara will eat anything. If you eat catfish, you will get little black pustules on your skin and come to resemble a catfish yourself!” At last, we landed on the other shore of the Djolliba (the Niger River), and Muhammad wanted to talk to me about sorcery at Quema. There is less of it today, he assured me, but witchcraft is by no means a thing of the past. Some of the sorcerers of Quema still eat people, particularly innocent children. These sorcerers like to drink blood.

“Well, aren’t there good forms of sorcery too?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “All sorcery is evil. A true Muslim will leave it alone. Up in the hills, especially in the bush that surrounds Quema, there are very wicked sorcerers. Sorcery is a dangerous thing, and Quema is the center.” I had always heard that Wanzerbe and Kukiya were the capitals of Songhay sorcery, but my guide insisted that Quema is the true site of power.

“This is the place where the Askiya Muhammad lived in exile,” he told me, “before his body was brought to Gao to be buried in the pyramid. That is why it is so powerful. But no one knows today where the Askiya Muhammad is buried, not exactly.” This is an important point he insisted upon: Not even the Chief of the village of Quema knew where the body of the Askiya Muhammad lies buried. When UNESCO pressed for this secret, after the tomb of the Askiya Muhammad was declared a world heritage site, no one in Gao would reveal where his body was hidden. I was skeptical, however, that the Songhay practiced human sacrifice or drank blood. This was something I had never heard, and I was beginning to lose confidence in my guide.