Desert Storm

If you were looking for the place least like the desert, then Dublin would surely be near the top of the list. It’s a typical Irish summer’s day – windy with the threat of rain hanging overhead in dark grey clouds – but as far as Wonou Walet Sidati is concerned, it might as well be Siberia. She speaks no English and my French isn’t much better than my Tamashek but we manage to communicate using the international sign language for “I’m bloody freezing” – desperate rubbing of the arms and rueful smiles.

While Dublin and the Sahara may be divided by geography, climate, politics and language, Irish and African music get along just fine, thanks – a fact amply displayed by Dambé: The Mali Project, a documentary by Irish film-maker Dearbhla Glynn, which follows former Hothouse Flower Liam Ó Maonlaí and piper Paddy Keenan as they journey to and perform at Mali’s Festival au Deser’ – the most remote music festival in the world. The Electric Picnic it ain’t!
Which is why we’re here, standing around in the cold. Having seen their popularity in Ireland go exponential since playing support to the Rolling Stones at Slane in 2007, Tinariwen have just finished a successful spate of shows in Cork, Galway and Dublin. Like any Irish trad band worth their salt, Tinariwen are a loose collective of musicians and performers, and today vocalist Wonou as well as Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni and ‘The Lion of the Desert’ Hassan Ag Touhami are hanging out with Liam and Paddy to promote the documentary in which the band also feature. Wonou, Abdallah and Hassan are accompanied by Bastien Gsell, Tinariwen’s tour manager, who is on hand to act as translator and spokesman.
How a musical collective of North African nomads ended up outside Smithfield’s Lighthouse cinema on a chilly summer’s day is an unusual and fascinating story. For their Irish fans, Tinariwen are a musical tour de force whose compelling rhythms defy you to ignore them; but for their own people, the Touareg of the southern Sahara they are much more – icons of resistance, a musical response to oppression, poverty and exile.
The story goes like this: guitarist and vocalist Ibrahim Ag Alhabib, Hassan Ag Touhami and Inteyeden Ag Ableline met in the desert oasis of Tamanrasset in southern Algeria in 1979. All three were ‘ishumaren’, a Tamashek word meaning ‘unemployed’ – Touareg men displaced by drought and conflict.
In the 1960s during the first Touareg rebellion against Mali’s central government, Ibrahim’s father was arrested for giving aid to the rebels. The family livestock was destroyed and Ibrahim’s father was later shot by government forces. Ibrahim, still a young boy at the time, and his grandmother were forced to flee into exile. In the intervening years Ibrahim wandered between Algeria and Libya, performing odd jobs, getting into trouble and learning to play music on a bush guitar made of a jerry-can and wood, with bicycle wires for strings.
In Tamanrasset, Ibrahim and other ishumaren were exposed to music from around the world, including Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and Carlos Santana. Here he managed to get his hands on a proper guitar, first an acoustic and later an electric one. This was to prove the turning point. Ibrahim’s style, mixing traditional Touareg music with rock, pop and blues as well as Arabic and Berber influences, played on an electric guitar, created a completely new sound – ishumaren rock ‘n’ roll and protest songs that spoke of hardship and injustice.
“After Ibrahim found an electric guitar in the ‘80s, he had much to say,” notes Bastien. “For young people who had lost their country and their traditional way of life, things were difficult.”
Ibrahim, Hassan and Inteyeden performed at weddings and community events for the Touareg exiles in Tamanrasset and their popularity resulted in an invitation to play at a music festival in Algeria – but, fed up with the injustice of their exile, the band were persuaded to enter Colonel Gadaffi’s military training camps in the 1980s. Gadaffi lured in the musicians along with many other disaffected ishumaren with false promises of creating an independent Touareg state in the desert.
Gadaffi’s military training came to use when Ibrahim and other members of the band took part in the rebellion that broke out in the Niger, and Mali, in 1990. This is the image of the band that’s gained the most currency in the Western media – musicians riding into battle with Kalashnikovs and guitars strapped to their backs. But the reality of rebellion and the death of friends and loved ones means that this is a period of their lives the band doesn’t particularly like to discuss.
The Mouvement Populaire de l’Azawad, the Touareg revolutionary movement, saw potential in the band’s music to unite the Touareg people. The MPLA provided money to record their music, which was spread by cassette copies, illegal not because they were poor quality pirates, but because of the message of revolution contained within the songs.
Peace returned to Mali in 1996 and a fortuitous meeting with the French band Lo’Jo, in Bamako, Mali’s capital, led to a tour of France in 1999, a performance at the Festival au Desert and the recording of their first CD, The Radio Tisdas Sessions in 2001. Since then, Tinariwen has gained both critical acclaim and commercial success.
Politics is never far from their minds. It can’t be. Mali is one of the poorest countries in the world. Around 65% of it is desert or semi-desert. Peace in the region is still fragile.
On their latest album Aman Iman: Water Is Life, the track ‘63’ references the Touareg rebellion of the 1960s. Ibrahim sings, “Sixty-three has gone but will return. Those days have left their traces.” In May 2006 a Touareg rebel group called the Democratic Alliance for Change led a brief campaign against government forces and earlier this year there were fears that another rebellion was imminent. Is the band worried about a return to warfare?
“There are still negotiations in the country, to do with the exploitation of natural resources in the desert. The Touareg want more of a say in the negotiations. We sing about 1963 because that was the beginning of the problems.”
In the 1960s, Mali along with other former colonies, gained independence from France and the new countries’ artificially-created borders were an anathema to the nomadic Touareg people who moved across the Sahara around parts of Mali, Algeria, Libya, Niger and Burkina Faso.
“There are similar problems today as there were after the end of colonisation and the political developments in Mali and Niger, with the new countries and new borders. For the Tamashek, this was very new. They didn’t need papers or ID before, and decisions were made without any negotiations. Tinariwen sing about this time, so people don’t forget.”
Since the early days of independence, Western and Chinese investment in the region has meant that the traditional Touareg way of life is changing, but as the rock ‘n’ roll influence on their music would suggest, Tinariwen are not hide-bound traditionalists hoping merely to protect a dying culture from the outside world.
“Tradition only makes sense if it’s practiced, you know, otherwise it’s just folkloric. Everywhere in the world people are worried about how the mode of life is changing. It is the same here in Ireland. Development in the desert is important, but what’s more important is what kind of development you want.”
Tinariwen don’t like to be seen as simply political propagandists and these days claim to be more interested in “the rebellion of the soul”. But they do concede that their mission is not just musical.
“It’s important for us to be here and meet people and let them know that there are the Touareg people in the desert,” says Bastien.
Since 2001, the band’s increasing international profile has allowed them to act as roving ambassadors and spokesmen for the Touareg. Aman Iman reached top spot in the UK, American, French, Dutch, Italian, Scandinavian and Japanese World Music charts. Famous fans include Bono, Robert Plant, Thom Yorke, Carlos Santana and the Rolling Stones – who personally invited Tinariwen to join them at Slane.
Tinariwen believe that their success is due to the fact that they’re both recognisable and alien. Their sound is influenced by Western musical styles, but the Touareg culture and lifestyle is so foreign it appeals to our – and the media’s – curiosity and desire for the exotic.
“Naturally many people are curious when they see pictures of camels in the desert and Blue People [The Touareg are called the Blue People because their traditional robes and turbans are indigo blue and stain the wearer’s skin]. This is interesting to them, but we can also bond with people through the music. It is a specific style, traditional desert music, but played on an electric guitar – the electric guitar just works very well with the Tamashek language. With music you can communicate. Even if you don’t understand the lyrics, the music speaks.”
Although conflict and the history of the Touareg people inform much of Tinariwen’s music, many of the songs explore universal themes such as love and friendship, which cross political divides.
“Tinariwen doesn’t sing only about the problems of the past. The band sing about life in general, as well as life in the desert, but not only about conflict or war,” Bastien proffers. “Everywhere in the world there are problems, but music can help all of the people. We are travelling with sympathetic sentiment, because problems are universal.”
Crossing the divide has not proven a problem in Ireland.
“Here in Ireland we always get a very good reception. We’ve been here a few times, but since the Rolling Stones invited us to Slane Castle last August, the shows we’ve played here have been full.”
Tinariwen’s story may be unusual, but like any other band, they hope to increase their fan base through playing the summer festivals.
“We’ve played some big shows – but for the Electric Picnic, I think we’ll be feeling very free. You know, I think you should be expecting something extremely big.”