Contributed by Markus James

"When you play the Njarka, the Jinn - the spirits of the river - will come”
--Hassi Saré, from the documentary film “Timbuktoubab”



Hassi was born in 1954, on the island village of Danga, region of Dire, cercle de Tombouctou, in Northern Mali. His passport spells his name: Alhassane Hamdou Sare.

Hassi was a wise and gentle soul, a consummate master of a magical instrument and musical lineage, the one-stringed Njarka violin.  He embodied the ancient traditions of his Peul / Sonrai culture, and was a bridge from the ancient into the modern world.  His elfin appearance caused many people to note that Hassi in fact looked like a Jinn, and he himself joked about this.

He certainly brought the spirits when he played. He was very sensitive, quiet, with an elegance that transcended everything from blinding sandstorms to harsh economic conditions that many people who may read this probably could not imagine. In a country known for high infant mortality, Hassi had lost five children. 

He was a beautiful dancer, whose Takamba was as magical to see as to hear. Hassi said you must be blessed to have the spiritual gifts to play the Njarka. For Hassi, music, the Narka, and the Jinn were always intimately connected. His musical expression was literally a conversation with another dimension.

His signature sound was ethereal, and otherworldly.  Whereas other Njarka, Sokou, and Emzed players create a sound which is essentially violin or string-like, Hassi's Njarka voice was often impossible to distinguish from a flute, with human voice-like qualities, and played as an always-varying rhythmic cadence.  The single string of the Njarka and also its bowstring, are made from the hairs of a horse, and Hassi was forceful in pointing out that it must be “Albarka” - a blessed horse - a strong, beautiful, fast-running, horse that everyone loves.

Knowing Hassi as a friend and as a collaborator is one of the greatest privileges I'll ever experience. Over the years we traveled many dusty miles together, discussing beliefs and philosophies, creating music in both of our languages, performing in villages and towns in the Sahel for people who had never seen anything like that before.

The first song we ever recorded together, "Goin Home", happened in the middle of the night, the time of the Jinn. I played an acoustic Blues riff and within moments Hassi took it to another level,  with variations and nuances which seemed to appear out of thin air like a ghost.

When our collaboration expanded to include lyrics and discussing what each language was saying, Hassi was transcendental.  One example that comes to mind is "Majirica Samba / Far As I Can Run":  I told him I was singing in iconic Blues terms about someone who knows that life could be over at any time, and who is asking for more time; they're not ready.  Hassi became very quiet and then told me what he and Hamma would sing in Sonrai: "I am sending you best wishes for another year". That one always blew my mind; it was a direct and deeply empathetic, kindhearted  response to the sentiments expressed in the English verses, which were dark and apprehensive.   For me, that song is touched.

Hassi took great care to make sure I did things correctly, whether buying a 50 lb bag of rice, negotiating for a ride across the river, paying tribute to a local chief, and always checked to see that I was doing alright.  For someone who was by nature quiet and reserved, he never tired of my endless questions about everything from marriage customs to Holey Hoire ceremonies to the diet of the horse in his village which was a desert island in the middle of the Niger river. Unlike others, he accepted my vegetarianism, and helped explain it to people for whom it was inconceivable and even shocking.  When I brought my family to meet him and Hamma in the middle of a tour in Europe, he had waited patiently all day for us to arrive, and took my daughter under his wing in the house filled with Malian musicians, proudly presenting her playing the Takamba on the calabash Hamma had brought her.

Hassi always looked very dignified.  Getting out of the back of a crowded pickup truck after a hundred sandy miles, he would quickly dust himself off, shake out and rewind his turban, and look like new.  He wore the same clothes year after year, the same shirt, the same tweed overcoat, but he always looked sharp.

Last January, after recording new songs, and playing again at the Festival at Essakane, and in Timbuktu, Goundam, Kabara, I remarked that his playing seemed to be on yet another level.  He looked at me with misty eyes and said "I opened my heart for you". This is a priceless gift.

One time we were waiting all day in Douentza and Hassi and I took a walk around the village; we came upon a dead sheep, and wondering out loud what it had died of, I asked "why is this sheep dead?"; Hassi chuckled and looked at me as if I were a child and said "because its life is finished."

You can hear Hassi on Afel Bocoum’s recordings, and on the radio in Northern Mali on various recordings by Haira Arby and other artists.


Some of the songs you can hear Hassi’s playing on now, on CalabashMusic.com:

“Goin Home”, from Nightbird
“Hey Gabriel”, “Majirica Samba / Far As I Can Run”, from Timbuktoubab

Hassi is featured on new music from Markus James coming out later this year.
www.markusjames.net

First published: www.afropop.org