The Masons of Djenné (review)

Here is a book that puts the work back in fieldwork, with dirt left under the fingernails. To learn about construction processes, Trevor Marchand apprenticed himself to masons in Djenné, Mali, exchanging his labor for learning. Local paradigms of practice-based technology transfer permit such education, and Marchand's expatriate status was accommodated in ways that reveal frank curiosity and mutual respect on all sides. Over and above the book's considerable substantive and theoretical strengths, the unusually accessible exposition of this intercultural dynamic will make it well worth teaching.

Djenné is recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and has been a crossroads for commerce in goods, people, ideas, and technologies for millennia. Inspiration has navigated the Niger River's lazy loop, crossed the Sahara by camel, and trekked to and from the Atlantic coast. Through local invention and the borrowing of methods and styles, the buildings of Djenné—and especially the justly celebrated Great Mosque, deemed the largest of earthen structures in all of Africa—are avatars of appropriate architecture. That is, they are attuned to the specifics of local materials, climates, cosmologies, and the aesthetic senses that subsume both practical and ideational factors.

The dwellings of Djenné were also a primary model for the "Sudanese Style" recognized and/or invented by French colonial authorities in constructions resonating with the motifs and scientific ideologies of Art Deco that graced the "African" pavilions of world's fairs and administrative buildings across French West Africa. While architectural conservation and replication are of deep significance in Djenné—and to none more than the masons that Marchand introduces to us—things do not sit still in the Inner Delta of Mali any more than they do elsewhere in the world. Contemporary structures are often set off by the newest technological interventions and opulent flourishes. What better place for an ethnographer to roll up his sleeves and dig into culture-building?

Marchand brings Djenné's marvelous structures to life, for his vividly detailed descriptions are based upon his experiences mixing the mortar, toting the bricks, and sitting in the shade to catch his breath. Purposeful—even if endless—tedium leads to pride in homes built for others. That work can be joy is a lesson unto itself, and that work is prayer an even deeper one. The vitality of construction processes is assured by oaths, magical devices, and spiritual interventions that protect the deeply reverent Muslim masons in what can be perilous work, while assuring the success of their endeavors. Indeed, some of the book's most engaging moments reveal how mystical dimensions meet the realities of construction: a facade collapses right where children pass, yet no one is injured because "proper benedictions were made before work" (217). We also meet larger-than-life personalities, such as "the Michelangelo of Djenné"—a seemingly over-the-top exaggeration until one learns of the man's extraordinary abilities. What is most compelling about this study, though, is the passion the masons have for their work, and readers will share Marchand's own passion for his collaboration with them.

The book's many black-and-white photos are superb, and none more so than portraits of Marchand's pals—the best term I can think of for the men handing bricks to and taking bricks from him—that offer visual proof of warm friendship. As explained in Marchand's epilogue, his book is complemented by a remarkable 56-minute documentary, "Future of Mud: A Tale of Houses and Lives in Djenné" (First Run/Icarus Films, 2007). The film was directed by the African art historian Susan Vogel and coproduced by Marchand Sidibé and Samuel Sidibé, the director of the Malian National Museum. It will be perfect for undergraduates.