Baye Fall
A poetic journey through Senegalese Islamic culture, Baye Fall spirituality and the sacred landscape of Touba, reflecting on pilgrimage, memory and the enduring legacy of Sheikh Ibrahima Fall.
On a hot night in Banjul, he hears the zikr rise —
Often beneath stories hidden treasures lie,
The chant’s lurid tide, with talking sabar drum,
A summons streams through the hallowed dark.
This Jamaican paces the golden sands,
Past shrunken monkey heads & obscure claws,
Through market dust on revered paths,
Alongside Touba’s great, shimmering mosque.
Not yet Magal, so the streets stand calm;
Men with matted locks in ragged colors toil;
Amulets clink, & the donkey cart ahead
Transports a dead body to sacred ground.
A silent prompting brings him to his knees,
Beside the mausoleum of Sheikh Ibrahima Fall,
& the huge pilgrim staff that never left your side —
(Xaritu Yàlla yi dañuy def lu baax) –
A fabulous tale the griots keep.
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