To catch the morning atmosphere of the town, we raised next day even before the sun really had aroused from the night. In front of the mosque the square was covered in a cool breeze and the air seemed fresh and clean, perhaps because the sandy dust hadn't been whirled up by the activity that normally buzz in the square. People had thick eyes from sleeping and regardless of our being there – the tempo was in the lowest gear.

Djenne is one of the oldest towns in West Africa, founded in year 800 as an important stage for the Trans-Sahara trade. The town haven't really changed since its heydays in 14 th and 15 th century. The buildings are in principle built like the mosque; mud blended with hay, pressed and dried to “bricks”. One can see them stored everywhere partly used to rebuild the houses, but also used the yearly restoration of the mosque. From the old days most of the houses have three floors; the bottom floor was for storage, the middle floor for slaves and the upper floor was for the master of the house. Today law forbids slavery.

While walking the small streets we came by a little square between two beautiful houses. A tiny little girl stood braiding her mothers hair. It was the Gattara family that lived in the two houses. The man of the house was very happy for our visit and proud that we wanted to photograph his houses. It ended with full family line up having their photo taken. We exchanged addresses to send them some photos later.

The sound of hammering caught our attention and we went towards the sound that came from a little room in a narrow alley. It was dark in there; only the sound and the glowing red coal reflecting in the shiny eyes indicated that there were people in there. When our eyes had gotten used to the dark, four persons appeared clearly, two grown-ups and two small boys. One of the small boys turned a wheel and the movement provided air to the fire. It was a little silversmith we had found. The silver was melted in a little metal container over red-hot coals, poured into a rectangular mould and cooled of in water the moment after. Another boy got the stiffened silver and hammered it to shape for the next step in the manufacturing. The silversmith, an older man with a grey beard on the chin and glasses mattered over time, proudly showed us some of his works. You cannot buy anything in the silversmith; the jewellery is only sold on the Monday market.

The rooftops are best

They say that the best view of the town's attraction is from the rooftops of the houses in town. It is easily done by paying a small tip to one of the youngster hanging out, outside the houses around the mosque. We did it and after he told us that there were another place in town with a good view. “It's just around the corner,” as he said. We had followed him for quite some time though alleys, squares and street that were no streets. It was hot and we had already walked far, so I got a bit irritated of being pulled around by the nose. “Where is the place you wanted to show us – this is not just around the corner in my world,” I said a bit crossed. “It's just over here,” he answered and pointed a little further down the alley. It was the drop, we dumped him and went in the opposite direction. Now he followed us all the way back to Chez Baba.