Africa's Lost Kingdoms: Searching For The Last Secret Monarchs Of Mali

Africa was once the cradle of humankind, but is now the world's poorest continent. Many of Africa's 1.3 billion people are still ruled by kings and queens the rest of the world knows little about. Some live in palaces surrounded by wealth and luxury, while others are poverty stricken and inhabit mud huts. Yet all of them are influential leaders in African society. Alfred Weidinger is an Austrian photographer, art historian and museum director who intends to create a comprehensive record of the lives and leadership of the African monarchs. For five years, Alfred Weidinger has created portraits of Africa's kings and chieftains, rulers on the boundary between traditional and modern life. Our journey takes us to the Dogon people of Mali and their leaders, the so-called Hogans. The Hogans were once the spiritual guides in the village communities, but their power is receding with the rise of Islam. In 50 years, it will all be over. There'll be none of us left. In Niger, nomad tribes and their nobles have congregated for centuries to celebrate the end of the rainy season over the course of three days. We begin our search for the last kings of the African continent in Bamako, the country's capital. Mali was once a rich country, but armed conflict and Islamic terror attacks have caused significant damage to the country. Despite the turmoil, it is said that Mali is still home to the secret kings of the village communities, the so-called Hogans. We plan to meet Malik Sidibe, an internationally renowned photographer. We hope that he will be able to show us where to find the Hogans. However, we are met by his son at his studio. So this is his camera collection. Would you like to see one? Okay. So this is Malik Sidibe's studio. Yes, this is his studio. Would you like to see some of his work? Yes, please. These are some of his negatives. Malik Sidibe is one of Africa's most important contemporary photographers and a master of portrait photography. He has been awarded the Golden Lion Award for lifetime achievement at Venice's Biennale Festival. A photo has to touch your soul. I find that black and white film is the best medium for this. In my opinion, it reveals things that would get lost in colour. That's how I hope to capture Africa's most important monarchs. We are invited to visit Malik Sidibe at home. Five years ago, a serious illness forced him to give up photography. This is difficult, yeah. But it's great today we are here and you too. Yes. You see. Yes. Malik Sidibe has cancer. As we take our leave, it is clear that we are saying farewell to a dying man. His son suggests that we travel to north-eastern Mali. He believes that we will find the last of the Hogan's there. Shortly after we begin our journey, we receive word that we were the last visitors the world-renowned photographer received. He has died. Our travels to north-eastern Mali take us through dangerous territory. Islamic terrorist attacks are common here. Our destination lies at the foot of the cliffs of Bandia Gara on the edge of the Sahel zone. The region is home to the Dogon people. It is said that they were once the servants of Mali's king. 800 years ago, they fled from the west in order to be free. The Dogon ethnic group now has a population of approximately 300,000. The people live in villages of up to 500 inhabitants. How are you? Good, thank you. How was your journey? I'm looking for a village with a Hogan. Is there one near here? Several Hogan's still live along the escarpment. We discover that very few Hogan's are left in the Dogon region. There are just a few villages left in which they can be found. We decide to try our luck in Yenduma. The village is about an hour's walk from our present location at the northern end of the escarpment. The characteristic Dogon earth huts are several centuries old. They are nestled on small rock terraces and have been named UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Over thousands of years, rain has carved deep gorges into the rock. These serve to protect the Dogon people from slave traders and other enemies. Many of the old settlements are now abandoned and the ancient clay huts stand as monuments to the past. The Hogan's traditionally live secluded lives some distance from their villages. They are spiritual leaders, shamans, soothsayers and judges. The council of the village elders determines who will become a Hogan. The position is granted for life. We encounter a guard who greets us in the old traditional way. Is this the Hogan's palace? Yes, this is the Hogan's house. Is it possible to visit the Hogan? No, that is impossible. Why? Because the Hogan has died. He's dead? Yes. One may not enter the house because a new Hogan has not been named yet. It is hard to find a Hogan because of the increasing influence of Islam. It takes time to find one. Is this a Muslim village? Yes, most of the inhabitants have converted to Islam. Life in the earthen huts in the cliffs is difficult. Daily supplies like water and firewood have to be carried up to the village. In the last 40 years more and more Hogan have left their traditional homes for an easier life on the Seno-Gondo plains. Hogan culture is changing dramatically. Many still practice the traditional religion honoring the god Amar who is said to have created the world. However their faith is slowly being replaced by Islam, a religion considered more modern and attractive by younger generations. Our search for a Hogan takes us to the village of Endi where we meet one of the eight village elders. He confirms that there is a Hogan in the village but we have to ask for an audience. If the Hogan agrees to receive us it is customary to bring a gift. At the village market we are told that kola nuts would be a suitable offering. The market offers everything from food such as corn on the cob to trousers, t-shirts and magic potions. The village suffers a constant water shortage. Global warming is having a dramatic impact in areas which have always had to deal with high temperatures. The well has not yet run dry but water levels are dangerously low despite the recent rains. Soon the people will have to dig a new well. While we wait for an answer from the Hogan, Alfred Weidinger takes some portrait photos. The people have fantastic faces, their entire lives are visible in their eyes. I wonder what I will see in the Hogan's eyes if he allows me to take his photo. Word has got around that we are hoping to be granted an audience with the Hogan. The whole village has heard about the white visitors. A sculptor approaches us. He is responsible for carving the figures used in Hogan rituals and wants to show us what he is working on. These Hogan cult items are known as fetishes and are said to protect people from bad luck. The sculptor is currently carving a very special fetish. It is for the royal family. It is the Hogan's family. They are nobles and know a lot about Dogan culture. The Hogan passes the history on. As we have no written records, we prefer to carve our stories. To us, sculptures are written records. As night falls, we are still waiting to discover whether we will be permitted to meet the Hogan. The people here are friendly, but I can sense distrust because I am white. This is hardly surprising given the continent's history. I am frustrated because I have not yet been able to photograph a Hogan. The next morning, the people of Ende are woken by the village crier. He brings good news. We have been invited to ascend to the Hogan's palace. This palace is a little closer to the village than the one in Yenduma, but the Hogan here still lives a solitary, lonely life. From a distance, we can hear the Hogan welcoming us. The fact that we are being received by the spiritual leader is a great honor and we don't want to do anything wrong. The Hogan is very important. The Hogan has great knowledge. According to tradition, the Hogan is a king. It is forbidden to touch him. That moment just before the first picture, that brief, exciting instant before the shutter is released. And then you possess a moment of time frozen forever. Alfred Weidinger has taken his first portrait of a Hogan. We depart for the village of Ibi, 80 kilometers away. People say that there is a Hogan there. The dramatic changes we witnessed around the well in Endi are also visible in the villages along the sandy roads. In the last 50 years, the climate in the Sahel zone has changed significantly. There is almost constant drought and the farmers are fighting for survival. Many people, especially the young, leave the villages for the cities, where they hope to make better lives for themselves. Sand is encroaching on the formerly green Dogon fields. Herds of animals add to the damage, eating whatever vegetation survives in the desert. After six hours of driving in the baking heat, we finally reach the Hogan's palace in Ibi. It is home to Yanigo Kodio, who is almost 90. Once again, we have to request an audience. This time, it looks like we may be unsuccessful. Initially, the Hogan is wary of having his portrait taken. Finally, our guide is able to convince him to participate. I used to live on the plains. I was a Muslim. I came here 20 years ago. In 50 years, it'll all be over. There'll be none of us left. Only men may assume the role of Hogan. As the Hogan's may not be touched, they live a life of celibacy. We then visit a nearby fabric workshop. In the past, entire families worked at producing the traditional Dogon clothing. Now, frequently, it is only the older generations. Women are responsible for producing the yarn, and the men perform the weaving. Younger people prefer to buy used clothing from Europe and the USA, or cheap textiles from China. The international competition endangers the livelihoods of the African textile producers and garment makers. Traditional Dogon clothing is becoming increasingly rare. One notable characteristic of the traditional Dogon robes is their deep blue indigo color. Women dye the fabrics, and girls make the patterns. But the craft is becoming a thing of the past. In Dogon culture, everything is considered significant, and everything has a soul. This animism is the foundation of their faith, and teaches them to treat their surroundings with respect. Everything and everybody is connected. A small disruption in the natural order can result in disaster. The Hogons are responsible for maintaining the balance. However, their importance in the villages is dwindling. The village of Nombori lies near Ibi, and is home to Onse Gwendo, one of the oldest practicing animists. When the Hogon, the father, dies, there will not be a successor. If my family wants to remain in the village, they will have to convert to Islam. Everybody in the village will become Muslim. Once again, we hear how Islam is replacing the traditional local faith. There is clearly a strategy at work. Islam is being promoted more here than in other West African regions. According to the inhabitants, the religion's spread is being financed by Kuwait. A conservative strain of Islam is being established in these remote regions. The rules are strict and punishments are draconic. It will not be long before Dogon culture and the Hogons vanish entirely, because this form of Islam not only disdains other faiths, but actively combats them. We leave the world of the Dogon to visit the leaders in Niger, where Islam has a long tradition, and where it is said that the religion has merged with the traditional beliefs. The town of Dosso. 90,000 people live here. Almost half the population is under 15 years of age. Arab merchants enjoyed a positive reputation throughout the Sahel zone. They settled along the trade routes long before the first Islamic sultanates were established and led independent lives among the West African kingdoms. For centuries, Islam was considered the religion of merchants. Now, everything has changed. Most of the inhabitants are Muslim. Their traditional rulers are sultans. One of the most important is the Sultan of Dosso. The sultans have a similar function to the Hogons. But the moral foundation is based on the principles of the Qur'an. The sword to defend and spread the faith is part of the religion, even if one chooses not to pick it up. The head of a canton deals with disputes and everyday social problems. We deal with marriage problems and other common conflicts. This is our responsibility. We talk to the families, the village elders, the mayors and so on. We deal with fundamental problems in society. The sultan provides us with a letter of recommendation. This valuable document may provide access to other rulers. Our travels take us along an old caravan route which was used to transport gold, ivory, exotic animals, salt and slaves. These were the most important goods traded between northern Africa and the Sahel zone. Islam also spread along the old trade routes as a common belief system made conducting business easier. It is midday and our driver suggests that we have lunch with a local farmer who is said to have ties to a renowned animist queen and who may be able to arrange a meeting. Lunch consists of millet. These grasses form the staple diet in the Sahel zone and are used to produce stews, soups and flatbreads. The grain is used for subsistence rather than trade. A family will spend four months of the year planting and harvesting the millet crops. Roasted millet tastes a little like nuts but it is a meagre meal for spoiled Europeans. We ask the farmers about the animist queen. Her name is Aljima Gado but she is also known by her title Sarounia. It soon becomes clear that she is an important monarch. Perhaps the region's most influential. It will not be easy to meet her. At first we're not permitted to travel further. This is the chief. He decides whether one may visit the Sarounia. Otherwise we will be unable to go on. The stone will tell us something. Then we can continue our journey. The spirits are said to communicate through a stone determining whether conditions for a visit are favourable. Soothsaying is an important element of everyday life in many natural religions. The soothsayer draws his questions in the sand and studies the movement of the stone while he casts spells. The spirits are on our side and we are allowed to pass but we must be careful. We encounter another obstacle on our journey to visit queen Aljima Gado. Once again our car gets stuck in the rough terrain. We finally reach the village of Lagu where the Sarounia lives. The villagers come from all around to see us. We are the main attraction. We're now in the village of Lagu. This is the Sarounia's house. Yes, this is the queen's house. How many animists live here? It's impossible to say exactly. She is the head of all the animists. She is the queen. There is nobody above her. There are many below her but she is at the top. Is this an old culture? The culture has been around for a long, long time. The inhabitants of Lagu are part of the Asna ethnic group. In ancient legends, they are described as spiritual leaders and have been the protectors of the religion's secrets for eons. Can tourists visit the queen? Yes, that is possible. But unfortunately, no photos are allowed. The ban on photography is a disaster for Alfred Weiding. He wants to enter the hut and convince the council of elders to reconsider. I respect your culture. Okay, I understand. The photographer explains his mission to the village elders. He hopes to preserve at least part of this ancient culture in his pictures. Eventually, a compromise is reached. Alfred Weidinger will be permitted to photograph the Sarounia Arjimagada but her face may not be visible. Even her subjects are not permitted to see her face. She only leaves the hut twice a week for a brief period wearing a veil. She spends the rest of her life behind a curtain. This queen has never been photographed. Am I perhaps crossing a line by preserving the untouchable on film forever? We leave Lagu and head for Tenere, the desert of deserts. On the other side of the desert, a spectacular event. The Kour Saleh is due to take place in a few days. The journey there is somewhat dangerous. Once again, we are crossing territory that has been subjected to recent Islamic terrorist attacks. The Tenere desert is home to the Tureg, Tubu, Songhai and Wodabe people who roam the vast expanse with their herds of cattle. We meet many nomads who are also on the way to the celebrations. Every year they congregate in the desert to talk about their experiences and plans for the future. Thousands of people meet here for three days to celebrate the end of the rainy season. The Geraval ritual during which prospective Wodabe spouses present themselves is the highlight of the event. Here, it is the men who dress to impress. Every man hopes to prove he is better than the others and the women get to choose the man who makes the best impression. In the Wodabe culture, both men and women wear makeup and jewelry. The men wear necklaces of cowrie shells and paint their faces. They try out turbans, hats and other headdresses. It is about more than outward appearances. During the celebrations, the men have to prove their abilities as riders, craftsmen and artists. The Geraval ceremony begins in the afternoon. First, the men have to prove their skills as dancers, singers and musicians. Particular attention is paid to facial expressions and eyes. The Wodabe believe the eyes are the source of love. Even narrow faces, tall athletic physiques and white teeth are all considered important physical attributes. The men sing about the charm of women until they fall into a trance. The women evaluate the men's abilities. In the course of the evening, they will choose a prospective partner. The connections that are made here may lead to marriage or to nothing. Word has got around that a European camera team has arrived to create portraits of the kings of the Sahel zone. One of the most powerful chieftains invites us to join him. This is the Kursale, the largest of the Tuareg celebrations. Members of all clans and communities meet here. As do all the herdsmen, the Wodabe, Tuareg, Pearl and Arabs. This is the only time when all the nomads meet in groups. The government welcomes the opportunity to discuss with them and introduce their policies. There are no geographic borders for nomads. The borders only exist in the minds of countries. Only countries have borders. Nomads know no borders and no countries. For them, any place they have pastures and can live in peace and freedom is a country. They travel to Mali without a passport or a visa. They go to Algeria, to Nigeria and Libya. There are no borders for nomads. A sandstorm comes up and the Kursale drums fall silent. The people wait patiently for the winds to drop and the evening sun to appear again. Within an hour, the crowds return and the festivities continue. The young men dance and dance for three days without a break. There is almost no rest. 24 hours of music, 24 hours of dancing, 24 hours of euphoria. The festival will reach its peak the following day, when the women determine the most attractive man. Unfortunately, we have to leave. The Hogan of Endi, the first Hogan we met, has died. His position is now vacant. We cannot miss the opportunity to witness the crowning of the new Hogan. If one is chosen, it may be the last opportunity to observe such a ritual. We return to Mali from Niger. Time is of the essence. We have received word that a new Hogan is to be crowned in two days. Our guide points out a crocodile on the banks of a river. Crocodiles are sacred and are considered a good omen by the Dogon people. According to legend, the animal led the Dogon to water and prevented them from dying of thirst during their long mythical journey across Africa. The villages near Endi are deserted. We soon realize why. Preparations for a large celebration are in full swing. The locals inform us that there have been discussions about whether to continue the old traditions. The Muslims are against it. However, the decision is made to choose a new Hogan. The celebrations must be worthy of the Hogan's position. And the last remaining supplies are used up. Animals are slaughtered. Nothing is wasted in the inhospitable desert climate. The men congregate for the warrior's parade and prepare their weapons. Guests from the surrounding villages arrive to pay their respects. A large procession of men moves through the village. They pretend to fire shots with their old rifles and engage in simulated battles. The high point arrives and the masks are awoken with a call. The dancers of those wearing the masks and the reverence of the bystanders fill the masks with the potent life force known as Niyama. It is the strength of the dead that is released and transferred to the living, allowing the spirits to leave this world and pass into the next. Those who have done good during their lives enter the paradise of their ancestors. The procession collects the chosen man from his house, which will now become vacant. Shots ring out, announcing the coronation of the new Hogan. The masked men and the warriors lead the Hogan to the palace along the escarpment. He is led to the throne. The ritual ends with a proclamation by the village elders. From this point on, the Hogan is untouchable. I take the first photo of the new spiritual leader. And I can't escape the feeling that I have just captured the image of Ender's last Hogan.