Inside the spectacular centuries-old mosque of Dioulassoba

One of the most popular sights in the West African nation of Burkina Faso remains the Dioulassoba Mosque. Its age, beauty, and importance combine for a truly striking monument that has stood the test of time. But what’s it really like visiting the iconic building? Sunday Magazine reports.   It was morning in Bobo-Dioulasso, so-named […]

One of the most popular sights in the West African nation of Burkina Faso remains the Dioulassoba Mosque. Its age, beauty, and importance combine for a truly striking monument that has stood the test of time. But what’s it really like visiting the iconic building? Sunday Magazine reports.

 

It was morning in Bobo-Dioulasso, so-named after the two tribes that first settled there centuries ago, the Bobo and the Dioula. As the second-largest city in Burkina Faso, I knew there would be a great deal to explore and discover, and the famous Dioulassoba Mosque topped my list. Also the economic capital, about 76.7% of the city’s population is comprised of Muslims. So, as we drove into the Kibédoué district I became excited when I spotted one the mosque’s main minarets, newly painted a gleaming white against the deep blue sky. I later spotted the remaining two as we got closer.

Surprisingly accessible right off our vehicle, a quick glance showed the usual appearance of a mosque: Ablution points dotted with metal containers and plastic kettles, all under the shade of generous, tall and leafy trees. But there was nothing usual about the rest of the sight I beheld. The mosque itself, inspired by Sudanese architecture, is a befitting showcase for the beautiful, conical minarets.

Upon our arrival, and in front of the mosque, stood our smiling guide, Sanou Seydou. The tour soon began, as he patiently took us around the building, even as he regaled us with the rich history of one of the most important and recognizable buildings in the country. Said to have been built by Imam Sanou Sakidi, it has conflicting dates for the history of its construction.

According to settlers, it was built around 1880. But elders who come from far-reaching lineages insist the mosque existed long before their arrival of any settlers, and pegged its construction to have begun in 1873, a couple of years after the famous Battle of Bama, which took place around 1871. A remarkable point to note is that the people who took part in its construction are drawn from adherents of a variety of religions, including animists.

Another account has it that towards the end of the 19th century, the city was attacked by King Tiéba. This made the King of Sya ask Sakidi Sanou, a Muslim religious leader, to help him stop enemy armies. In return, Sanou Sakidi asked the King of Sya for his cooperation in the construction of a mosque. They both agreed, and they went on to defeat King Tiéba and his army, leading to Sanou Sakidi consolidating Islam there. The mosque is said to have been built on the site of an old animist temple.

In the past, according to the guide, young women, married or not, did not have access to the mosque, except for the older ones. But some changes effected during a 1980 restoration have made possible an adjoining section, built to enlarge capacity. After that, young women and girls finally gained access to pray in the mosque.

Built from mud bricks, also called adobe, the outer visage is smoothened from age. It is painted white, which highlights the tall and imposing structure. While it sports heavy wooden doors and ventilation holes, its most iconic features have got to be the poles sticking out of the walls. While they are said to have both a structural function and a utilitarian one, they are also of great help when there is a need to climb up the mosque to carry out repairs.

Interestingly, I gleaned that there are a number of small ‘floors’ within the main minaret, which we did not gain access to. It is said there is enough space within them for people to meditate, or offer special prayers, sometimes stretching into several days, all in a peaceful atmosphere. Even though I could not get a confirmation from our guide, I bookmarked all that information, especially since we were told that we would be able to climb up to the roof of the mosque itself.

With a capacity for 800 worshippers – remarkable for the time it was constructed – the older section boasts of 42 pillars, which support the roof for 9 rows of Muslim faithful. The newer section also has 9 rows for worshippers. The construction itself, step-by-step, is said to have taken 10 years to complete.

Not-so-fun fact: In 2000, many tourists who came for the Paris-Dakar rally visited the mosque and made a mess of the interior with muddy shoes which they refused to take off outside. The result was a ban on tourists for many years. Thankfully, visitors are now allowed. So, after we took off our shoes, we walked in and on plastic woven mats. I observed that the walls were also white-washed, like the exterior, though a keen eye would still notice, partially, the original earthen colour.

As I looked closer at the painted pillar, the guide, no doubt in response to my interest, informed me that volunteers are usually invited any time the mosque needs a new coat of paint, even as he jokingly invited me for the next time. I told him I am seriously accepting his offer, and he laughed, apparently thinking I was joking.

I walked in, deeper into the mosque, and I looked up to see an intricately constructed ceiling, made from thick wooden beams. Apparently, the beams need to be replaced roughly every 50 years. The pillars that dotted the interior had a curvy upper that met with each other to create the illusion of arches, making for a hauntingly beautiful ambience. But that pleasant feeling was short-lived, as the interior suddenly became very warm. Our guide called out to a couple of helpers to open the ventilation holes, and turn on brown, ornamental ceiling fans, which are some of the very few evidences of modernity within this old jewel of architecture.

Our guide, Seydou, beckoned us towards a very narrow flight of stairs, quite quaint in appearance. We climbed up them, as the space got smaller, and smaller. I soon climbed up, and out, onto the rooftop of the mosque, in all its splendour. There it was before me, a wide space, well-shaded by nearby trees, of which there were many.

There were speed bump-like mounds crossing from one edge of the rectangular rooftop to the other. I used the opportunity to do some photography, as well as take in the sights of the old neighbourhood which has hosted the mosque for centuries.

From the rooftop of the mosque I could see some old buildings, made from adobe, and there also were some new, modern ones. The narrow one-lane streets were very clean, and bustling with life, though not crowded. There was a peace even within the activity. With that thought, I climbed down the stairs, somewhat used to the tight stairwell by now. As we walked out, back to where we had ‘parked’ our shoes, a young man stood with a cap in hand, soliciting for contributions for the mosque’s upkeep.

Everyone in our group obliged with some money, and a smile, grateful to have experienced this truly monumental monument. As we drove away after the tour, I sat quietly pondering how lucky I am to have experienced it, even as I dwelled on the possibility of a return visit, even if it is simply to help in repainting it.