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ke the moaning of prehistoric songs, OUR ROPES AND RIGGINGS BECAME INSTRUMENTS IN A OlENT. CACOPHONOUS RITUAL ummonlng our ea r of the da rk." Todd and I slowly leapfrogged downward. On our way down, Peter radioed us from the ground. Andy had passed out numerous times on the talus and Peter had carried him to camp. Andy was now unconscious. Peter piled Andy into the Land Rove for the drive to the nearest hospital back in Bamako. Once there Andy treated with massive doses of antibiotics. The puncture in his shin had developed a staph infection that caused phlebitis in his leg. The docto told us that another day's delay would have cost Andy his leg and perha even his life. Ironically, without Andy's emergency, we would have missed one of the most enlightening experiences of our trip. In the heart of Mali, we met the Dogon who, for hundreds of years, have climbed for reasons other than sport. While Ed kept Andy company in Bamako, the rest of us drove to the center of Dogon country where we spent a couple of days bouldering and meeting the people there. We wandered down streambeds and watched the women working in onion fields and pounding millet with long heavy poles. Everywhere we went, little kids encircled us like schooling minnows. We admired the Dogon villages and beautifully carved masks. One evening we offered cola nuts to several village elders and they told us about their cliff climbing history. Through an interpreter, an elder explained, "Long ago when the Dogon moved to this area, the jungle still touched the cliffs. Our people lived in the cliffs to be safe from fierce animals but now that the great forests are gone and the Sahara is creeping south, the Dogon climb only to bury their dead." We watched one man free climb a difficult rock we would rate 5.8. To overcome overhanging terrain, he lassoed a 600- year-old wooden peg and pulled himself up on baobab'fiber ropes. The elder invited us to visit the caves and advised that we climb barefoot. His wizened face cracked into a thousand smiling lines as he hoisted a gnarled foot and mimed how we might utilize the tiniest holds by using our toes like fingers. In a more serious tone, he related that since he was possessed with climbing talent, he was obliged to climb in order to bury the dead. The venerable climber said he understood why the young climbed for fun, but we must never forget to "climb with care, with the serene spirit of birds and with an appreciation of the fellowship that climbing strengthens." The old man looked each of us in the eye, solemnly tapped his heart and said: "Understanding and brotherhood among all people is important above all other things." Shortly after seeing the funerary caves strewn with bleached bones and skulls, we thanked the Dogon and prepared for our trips home. As we sorted gear we thought about our trip. The Harmattan Rodeo was a magnificent new climb, and we also realized how lucky we had been to visit the African desert and to live, for a time, among the people of Mali. We vowed always to climb with the serene spirit of birds. �----------------- •