Many Ansar, the principle organizer and driving force behind the Festival in the Desert in Mali, came to New York City in May, 2007.  Banning Eyre sat down with him to talk about the past and future of one of Africa’s most legendary and magnificent music festivals.  For up to date information on the Festival in the Desert, visit www. festival-au-desert.org.  See the end off this feature for details on how you can help keep the Festival in the Desert going!

B.E:  For people who don't know the Festival in the Desert, give us a brief history.

M.A:  The Festival in the Desert was born of an encounter between Tuareg musicians and the French music group called Lojo.  Lojo had performed the year before at a festival in Bamako.  They had been inviting groups from southern Mali to play at this festival, and this time they decided to invite a northern group to play at the festival Les Nuits Toucouleurs, in Angiers, France.  So that was how it started.  I was the manager of the group Tinariwen, and we were invited to this festival in Angiers in 1999.  That was the first time that Tinariwen played outside of Mali.  They even played together with the group Lojo.  For many people, it was the first time to see Tuareg people with their turbans and their guitars, and all that.  So we started to speak about the fact that there were festivals among us to, in Kidal and Timbuktu.  Then this group Lojo was invited to come and performed at one of these traditional festivals.  That's how it started.

They came with some journalists, and a little sound system.  We set up a simple stage, and then we started playing in the middle of the desert, with the Tuareg on their camels.  The journalists who were there wrote articles about this, talking about a festival in the middle of the desert, and since then it's just gotten bigger and bigger.

B.E:  Since 2003, in the year that we were privileged to be there, the festival has always been at Essakane.  I understand that prior to that, there was a notion that it would move from town to town.  How did you settle on Essakane as the permanent location for the Festival?

M.A:  In the beginning, it's true, the idea was to create a festival that would be nomadic, like the Tuareg.  We did the first year at Tinasoko, the second year at Tessalit, both in the Kidal region.  Afterwards, the third year, we went to Essakane near Timbuktu.  And once we arrived there, the first problem was with our financial partners.  They told us that they couldn't invest each year to create a site, installing toilets and all that to be used just for three days, and just one time.  This was not practical.  They wanted to invest in a real site for a festival, and that meant a site that would be used each year.  That was the first problem.  The second was the size of the festival.  We started with just four groups, maximum.  One group from the outside, and three local groups.  By our third year, we were up to 38 groups.  It had become 10 times bigger.  We started with 500 people there, and now we were up to 3000 or 4000.  It was becoming so big that it really wasn't possible to move the festival year after year.  On top of that, Essakane was a really beautiful site.  There was water there, enough to take care of 5-10,000 people.  This is very difficult in the desert.  It was close to an airport, the airport of Timbuktu.  And plus there was the life of Timbuktu nearby.  It just seemed like the most ideal location in the north of Mali. 

So the airport, the beautiful site, the accessibility... because before, we had an airport 500 or 600 km away.  And now, it was just 60 km away.  With all that, it just seems that if we wanted to create a real festival, this was the place.  We loved this idea of nomadism.  But we hadn't imagined this thing was going to get so big.  As long as it was just three or four groups, we could just go in and set up a small site.  But now we had to deal with water and electricity.  We had no choice.  It's true that a lot of people in the Tuareg community wanted to say, "Oh, next year, the festival has to come near us."  But it's so expensive.  We have invested over 100,000 French francs for the site, the toilets, the water installations.  It's come a long way since you saw it in 2003.  When you come again, you will see.  There's a real stage, and toilets, and water canals, an electric generator.  There's everything you need to have a real festival.

B.E:  The year that we were there, 2003, a lot of people had donated things, the sound system, engineers, the stage, lights, all the stuff.  But to last year after year, you have to have a sustainable way of funding the festival, and paying for all these things, right?  I must congratulate you on surviving four years since then, but I'm wondering, how are you doing it?

M.A:  First of all, you've found the right word.  Survive.  Effectively, that is all we've done.  We have survived.  The paradox, and what is bizarre about this festival is this:  it is very popular, people really love it, its reputation has spread around the world, so that when someone comes and sees the festival they are very impressed: the beautiful camels, the beautiful music, the beautiful desert.  But behind that there is an enormous amount of work that requires a huge amount of financial support.  It is difficult to manage this in a poor country where culture falls very low on the priority list.  To have partners also is difficult.  Most of the financial partners who want to help Mali are first focused on education, health, so music and culture do not really figure into this.  These are not the priorities, so our efforts involve a great deal of difficulty every year.  Each year, we are forced to make difficult choices, to cancel artists, to use inferior forms of transportation, and so on.  We can't do things the way we would like to.  Each year, there are a few new partners to come and give a little money.  We have cooperation from the Dutch, and the Germans.  The Danish.  People discover us and they come.  Last time it was the Catalans from Barcelona.  Lots of people want to help us, and want to come.  They bring their music groups and their artists, their journalists.  But they can't give us money every year because they have their own priorities also.  So that's how it is; we go on, little by little.

At this point, we're trying to come up with a system, to find a real partner, a solid partner who can give support over time.  Every year, from January, through July or August, we know that we want to do the festival, but we really don't know if we are going to have the money to do it.  So we can't confirm the artists, we can't create a program.  Often we get to October or November and realize that we really can't afford to do it.  And then the President of the Republic says, "No, the festival is too important for our country, for peace.  You must do it.  Okay, we are going to give you an airplane.  I'm going to tell the Minister of Culture to give you some support."  So at the last minute, just as we are realizing that we really can't go ahead, a that's when people say, “No no no, you must continue.”  This is very difficult.

B.E:  And it's the same thing again this year?

M.A:  Yes.  For the moment, it's the same thing.  That's my main message to people.  If there are people out there who really want to save this thing, they should talk to us now.  Even businessmen.  Mali is full of great culture, Timbuktu, the desert.  Even to have a real travel agency.  They could make money off this festival.

B.E:  What is the story there, at this point?  Do you have a good partner travel agency in Mali?

M.A:  We haven't found a really solid partner.  Apart from one or two, the outfits that exist in Mali are not sufficiently professional.  There are people who take tourists around with two or three 4x4s.  Things are often arranged at the last minute.  It's not at the level we need for a real partner.  It would be better to have someone from the outside, from Europe or America.  The most difficult thing is to provide information.  Every year we receive hundreds of questions.  How do we get there?  But when we tell people, "You just have to get yourself to Timbuktu, or Bamako, then there are two or three travel agencies you can work with,” it's not good enough.  You can't work that way in Africa.  People don't want to come to Africa unless they're sure.  Often they need to hear it from Europeans or Americans in order to be fully assured.

B.E:  But wouldn't it be better to have a local, Malian agency that could really do this?

M.A:  Yes, and there are one or two that are coming along.  But there are many others who want to, but can't.  Up to this point, it is not really established.  When it comes to bringing 30 or 40 people in a group, or dealing with people who arrive at the last moment, you have people running around trying to fix vehicles and so on.  It's not really professional, not really a system like that seen at other festivals around the world.  I've been to lots of festivals, and it's different for us.  This is something people don't fully understand.  When others create a music festival, they can just focus on music.  100%.  If somebody comes, there are already hotels, there is electricity, there are already restaurants.  When people come, all you have to do is tell them about the site, and the music.  But we have to do everything.  We have to create a town.  We have to build the town before the festival can start.  And that's what's really difficult for me.  Because I'm here for the music, for the stage.  Which artists should come, and how long and when they should play?  That's all I want to do.  But I spend 80% of my time wondering about water, electricity, and transportation, how we are going to have mattresses and bottled water, the generators -- all that.  We spend 80% of our time worrying about logistics, rather than music.  That's the biggest challenge for me.

B.E:  That is difficult.  I guess what keeps you going is that, when everything works out, the result is magical.  I will never forget my experience there.  There are certain moments -- the opening ceremony with the dancing on camels, Ali Farka Toure's incredible closing set-- really, the sorts of things that a person lives for.  What about you?  What are some of your greatest memories of the Festival in the Desert?

M.A:  It really was 2003.  Because before that, there was war in the north of Mali.  Civil war.  In the very place we were, Essakane, just a couple of years earlier, people were killing one another.  So to see that stage there, with artists from the south, like Oumou Sangare, with artists from the north, Ali Farka Torue, and Tinariwen, together on the stage—when I saw the people, the audience, with Malians from the south and Malians from the north and Americans and Europeans, everyone together having a party with music, I thought, "How could it be that a few years ago these people could not have come here without risking their lives?"  That was really for me the most magic moment.  I always think about that.

B.E:  Ali Farka Toure was like the grand master of the festival that year.  I really had the sense that the festival represented the fruition of his central dream, to uplift and win recognition for the culture of the North.  The mere fact that this festival existed seemed to give him tremendous satisfaction, didn’t it?   

M.A:  First of all, Ali is very important to me personally.  Since my childhood, Ali has been my idol.  And when I found myself in the process of organizing a festival, my first idea was to have Ali.  The first years, when we had our small festivals near Kidal, I didn't want to talk to him about that, because I wasn't even sure we would be able to look after him properly.  So the first time I asked him was in 2003, and he said right away that he was coming.  For me this was incredible.  He said, “I'm coming,” and he said, “I'm coming for free.”  I offered to bring him there as we were doing for other artists from Gao and Bamako.  He said, "No, no, no.  I'll just come in my 4x4 from Niafunke.  It’s nearby.”  So he came on his own, totally relaxed, and he saw the festival.  He saw the world that was there.  And when he saw all that, he came to me and said, "But Many, this is extraordinary.  I had no idea there would be all this.  Congratulations."  When he came, I wasn't even sure he was going to play.  But once he saw that, he started inviting all these members of his group, saying "Come, come.  It's very important.  The whole world is here.”  So that's how it was.  He came, he played, he gave lots of interviews, as you've seen in films.  We started to think of him as the godfather of the festival.  And as he went around the world after that, he talked about it a lot.  At the last festival before he died, he was too sick to come.  But he telephoned from Bamako to say, "I am with you.  I wish you good luck."  This was very moving for us.  So many of the people involved with this festival are his children, his students.  In truth, Ali is always here.

B.E:  I understand that you had a tribute to him as part of the festival this year.  Tell me about that.

M.A:  Yes, artists who had worked with him came and performed his music, a kind of homage to him.  It was as if Ali was there.  Everyone was playing his music.  For us he's still the godfather of the festival.  Forever.

B.E:  I will never forget how happy he seemed performing there in 2003.

M.A:  Because it was the desert that inspired him.  He found at that festival the two things he cared about most: his people, and good sound.  That sound system was probably the best sound system that had ever arrived in Mali.  It was a dream come true.  For him, and for us too.  After that concert, which ended at about two o'clock in the morning, we all went and had a big party.  There was someone who would prepared a big sheep, and we went on all night.  He was really happy.

B.E:  That is powerful.  I know also that there have been great challenges for you over the years.  If we look at the flip side, what was the worst moment for you?

M.A:  Each year has brought its crises.  The last time, 2007, we arrived at Essakane for the first night.  Almost everyone was sleeping in the sand because the truck that was bringing in the mattresses was stuck in the sand about 10 km away.  Everyone was there, but there were no mattresses.  All these tour operators, and even artists, were going around saying, "Where are the mattresses?  Where's the water?”  Because the water, the bottled water, was also on that truck, stuck in the sand, on the way from Timbuktu.  So we were sending small cars back and forth, bringing things from the truck all night long.  But really, the biggest crisis each year is the financial crisis.  Each year, right up until Christmas, two weeks before the festival, we are not sure whether the festival is really going to be possible.  Right up to Christmas.  Hundreds of people are already en route.  People have reserved airplanes, hotels, everything.  Musicians are on their way.  With all that's going on, I am not sure that when they arrive, they will find a site with tents and mattresses and water.  I wound up going to the authorities of the Malian Government, and saying, "Look, all these people are arriving."  Luckily, the president of Mali responded.  But I had to go in there and then bang on the table, and say, "You must do something.  I have 102 accredited journalists on their way here.  They've come from 36 different countries."

B.E:  So I guess the word that needs to go out to the world is, "If you want to help this festival, the time to do it is now.” 

M.A:  Exactly.  Our plan for 2008 is we would like to put a system in place, the Friends of the Festival in the Desert.  Chris Nolan is in the process of setting up a PayPal system, to gather funding from all sources.  Also we have some new partners in Europe.  I am traveling the world right now, visiting friends wherever I can—New York, Los Angeles, in Europe too, Spain—all around the world.  And my message is: Either the Festival finds a way to go forward in a normal sustainable way, or it will stop.  So everyone is in the process of giving their ideas right now.  Patrick De Groote from the Sfinks Festival in Belgium came to Bamako just a few days ago to talk with everyone involved and diagnose the problem.  Because on top of the financial problems, there are the problems of management and logistics.  It's become too big for us.  We are not professional festival managers.  We started out bringing a few groups together, and have wound up in the middle of this big world.  It's a big festival now.  It's true, that in seven years I have learned a few things.  I do have some experience now.  But I'm pretty much the most professional person on the team.  That's serious.  It shouldn't be like that.  We need a real professional team.

As you said, the year you came, you saw a big team, the French, the Belgians, people doing the sound.  It should be like that every year.  The way it's been, we have people coming to learn, coming to help.  But it's not really been stable.  Every year we are looking, and asking.  Who is going to do the lights?  Who is going to do the sound?  We need to be reinforced with more professionals.

B.E:  One way to get support from NGOs and other organizations might be to provide professional internships for Malians.  Bring in professionals who, in addition to producing the event, would be training local people who will be able to take over these responsibilities in the future.  Organizations might be more willing to contribute this way, because it wouldn't just be producing a festival, but also developing professional resources for the country.  Have you ever thought of setting up that kind of system? 

M.A:  We do have something like that in place.  For example, whenever a sound engineer comes, we have someone from our team who learns from him.  It's only for two or three days, but it does help a bit.  We now have people who know more now about the sound and the lights.  But to have real training, like you are talking about, that would require that people stay longer, a few months, maybe a year.  It would be good to find funding for that.  We have not done that yet.  It's a good idea.  In our discussions, we have agreed that our first priority is to train people in marketing and production.  We do understand that we need to finance that.

B.E:  Any last thoughts you want to add?

M.A:  Yes.  I think people need to understand that the Festival in the Desert is not just music.  There are many other parameters.  There is a culture that is at risk of being completely forgotten, the culture of the north of Mali, the Tuareg culture.  This is important.  These are people who live in the desert, and as you get to know them, you get to know their problems.  Many social and political factors have gone into creating this festival, because not long ago this was inaccessible country.  Many people were afraid to go there because of insecurity and dangers.  Even for people in the south of Mali, they would have rather gone to Los Angeles in Timbuktu.  So for artists like Oumou Sangare and Toumani Diabate to come home and say, "Yeah, the desert is great,” that has helped us be known within Mali, and to the rest of the world. 

This is an incredible part of the festival experience.  There are people there with their families.  During the three days when you are there, you can meet them, eat with them, buy the crafts that they make.  Some of them come there to support their families for the next six months.  There are some for whom the festival is the only chance they have to get medical attention all year.  There are doctors there, working all day.  And there is an educational conference that goes on, talking about things like the next election, who in the government you should go to war particular questions.  If a Tuareg goes to Timbuktu or Bamako, he might wait three months without seeing a minister or a representative of the government.  It's not possible for him.  But at Essakane, we have representatives and ministers there, people responsible for health, and water.  A village chief can come there and have direct contact.  So people come and talk about their problems.  The music is there to attract people, but around and there is a whole life, a system of education and information, and an economic market.  So this is not only of interest to people who love music, but for people who love peace.  This is a people who find themselves together again, making peace, dancing together, making their rapprochement with Mali, letting the world know that they are there, and there is peace in Mali. 

B.E:  It's great work, Many.  Good luck with the future.

M.A:  Thank you. 

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