ABSTRACT
The acrid smell of burning resins infuses Adamu Jenitongo's compound, preparing it for the spirits (holle in the Songhay language). It is late afternoon in Tillaberi, a small Songhay town in Republic of Niger, and the sounds of a Songhay spirit possession ceremony crackle through the dusty air: the high pitched "cries" of the monochord violin; the resonant clacks of bamboo drumsticks striking gourd drums; the melodious contours of the praise-singer's "old words;" the patter of dancing feet on dune sand.
