Interest in ancient books could restore Timbuktu
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
TIMBUKTU, MALI -- From a dented metal trunk, Abdoul Wahim Abdarahim Tahar pulled out something sure to make a preservationist's heart race -- or break: a leather-bound book written by hand in the 14th century, containing key verses of the prophet Muhammad, and crumbling at the edge of each yellowed page.
"Every time I touch it, it falls apart," he said, paging through the book. "Little by little."
But Tahar saw promise in the brittle volume -- for himself, his family and this legendary but now tumbledown town. He is not the only one. A sort of ancient-book fever has gripped Timbuktu in recent years, and residents hope to lure the world to a place known as the end of the Earth by establishing libraries for visitors to see their centuries-old collections of manuscripts.
In a West African town where nomads and traders eke out livings, a revival of world attention to hundreds of thousands of privately held manuscripts -- which survived fire, rain, sand and termites -- represents an economic opportunity. But researchers and residents say the restoration of the books, most written in Arabic on fragile paper or lambskin, is also vital to showcasing Timbuktu's -- and, by extension, sub-Saharan Africa's -- more glorious past as a vibrant hub of scholarship.
"Many think black people don't have history -- that it's all oral," said Bouya Haidara, 52, chief librarian at the Ahmed Baba Institute, a public library that is preparing to move into a new building sponsored by the South African government. "It's important the world knows black Africans have a written history."
The effort has been slow going. Travel warnings about Islamist insurgents in the area have deterred tourists. And most of the books remain in private hands and will probably stay that way: Many owners refuse to part with their books on the instructions of ancestors, but they struggle to raise funds to restore or display them.
Tahar's family, for example, has about 2,700 manuscripts passed down from his grandfather, a calligrapher. For now, they are stuffed inside trunks alongside pots and pans in his sandy house, and in one bookcase at what he calls his library -- a couple of nearly empty rooms not far away, where he spends time cataloguing the works.
It also houses a dusty computer on which Tahar pulled up a spreadsheet outlining the library's needs, including a toilet and an exhibit room. Tahar said a Moroccan patron who saw him and his collection on a television program donated about $8,000, but help has otherwise been fleeting.
Other private libraries have been more fortunate as donors, including Libya and the Ford and Andrew W. Mellon foundations, have given millions of dollars to save the books. At the Mamma Haidara Library, which received financial help, women vacuum manuscripts in a restoration lab and a trio of men build acid-free storage boxes. "The manuscript is considered like a little baby," said director Mohamed M. Moure.
The library's 22,000 volumes have been in the family since the 16th century, Moure said. Still, he goes from village to village in search of new additions to a collection of ancient texts on medicine, history, astronomy, culture and religion.
"What I like most is the correspondence," Moure said, referring to antique letters. "They speak of walking to Bamako, or to Mecca . . . mysterious things."
A half-dozen centuries ago, people were also walking -- flocking, even -- to Timbuktu. Its spot in the desert between North and sub-Saharan Africa and on the edge of the Niger River made it a crucial trade junction. A university of 25,000 students bustled with scholarship. Bazaars overflowed with books that arrived on the backs of camels. Calligraphers sold copies for grams of gold.