Mardi 19 février 2008
Dernières images du site "Rencontres Sauvages" : 103
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Brebis et Agneaux dans la plaine du Roc.


Automne (septembre à novembre)

A partir de la fin de septembre, les troupeaux sont redescendus des alpages.

Les agneaux naissent alors...


..., ou se reposent au soleil.

Au milieu du troupeau, une "chèvre du Rove" (race méditerranéenne).

Derniers jours de beau temps.

Le troupeau se repose (vu du belvédère du Roc).

Petit texte :

"Gone to Timbuctoo

Timbuctoo, Tumbuto, Tombouctou, Tumbyktu, Tumbuktu or Tembuch ? It doesn’t matter how you spell it. The word is a slogan, a ritual formula, once heard never forgotten. At eleven I knew of Timbuctoo as a mysterious city in the heart of Africa where they ate mice – and served them to visitors. A blurred photograph, in a traveller’account of Timbuctoo, of a bowl of muddy broth with little pink feet rising to the surface excited me greatly. Naturally, I wrote an unprintable limerick about it. The word ‘mice in the stew ‘ rhymed with Timbuctoo and for me both are still inextrcably associated.
There are two Timbuctoos. One is the administrative centre of the Sixth Region of the Republic of Mali, once French Sudan – the tired caravan city where the Niger bends into the Sahara, ‘the meeting place of all who travel by camel or canoe’, though the meeting was rarely amicable ; the shadeless Timbuctoo that blisters in the sun, cut off by grey-green waterways for much of the year, and accessible by river, desert caravan or the Russian airplane that comes three times a week from Bamako.
And then there is the Timbuctoo of the mind – a mythical city in a Never-Never Land, an antipodean mirage, a symbol for the back of beyond or a flat joke. ‘He has gone to Timbuctoo’, they say, meaning ‘He is out of his mind’ (or drugged) ; ‘He has left his wife’ (or his creditors) ; ‘He has gone away indefinitely and will probably not return’ ; or ‘He can’t think of anywhere better to go than Timbuctoo. I thought only American tourists went there.’
‘Was it lovely ?’ asked a friend on my return. No. It is far from lovely ; unless you find mud walls crumbling to dust lovely – walls of a spectral grey, as if all the colour has been sucked out by the sun.
To the passing visitor there are only two questions. ‘Where is my next drink coming from ?’ and ‘Why am I there at all ?’ And yet, as I write, I remember the desert wind whippind up the green waters ; the thin hard blue of the sky ; enormous women rolling round the town in pale indigo cotton boubous ; the shutters on the houses the same hard blue against mud-grey walls ; orange bowerbirds that weave their basket nests in feathery acacias ; gleaming black gardeners sluicing water from leather skins, lovingly, on rows of blue-green onions ; lean aristocratic Touaregs, of super-natural appearence, with coloured leather shields and shining spears, their faces encased in indigo veils, which, like carbon paper, dye their skin a thunder-cloud blue ; wild Moors with corkscrew curls ; firm-breasted Bela girls of the old slave caste, stripped to the waist, pounding at their mortars and keeping time with monotonous tunes ; and monumental Songhai ladies with great basketshaped earrings like those worm by the Queen of Ur over four thousand years ago.
And at night the half-calabash moon reflected in the river of oxidised silver, rippled with the activity of insects ; white egrets roosting in the acacias ; the thumping of a tam-tam in town ; the sound of spontaneous laughter welling up like clear water ; the bull frogs, whining mosquitoes that prevented sleep, and on the desert side the far-off bowls of jackals or the guard-dogs of nomad camps. Perhaps the Timbuctoo of the mind is more potent than one suspects."

Anatomy of Restlessness – Bruce Chatwin.

Site de la semaine

Site de Philippe Lebeaux : à la découverte d'un autre monde !

Pour voir le site, cliquez sur l'image ci-dessus
ou [ici]

Pour voir son site [Animailes]

Voir la liste des anciens numéros de "Dernières Images" (les archives) : cliquez [ici]

Site internet : Rencontres sauvages

Me contacter :

Calendrier 2008 : Pour le télécharger directement au format pdf (900 ko), cliquez [ici]


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