I look up to see the Great Mosque of Djenné standing secure and resilient.

Where there are slight grooves in its smooth yet organically textured facade, I can imagine the hands that labored to repair and re-mud the mosque during the community’s last Crepissage.

The dust kicks up from the slight breeze and the muskiness of dirt and wood reaches me, enveloping me with the warm presence of mother earth.

If I squint up in the distance, I can just make out the oval silhouettes of the ostrich eggs sitting on the conical spires of the minarets.

And on the protruding palm branches decorating all sides of the mosque, birds are perched here and there. They preen their feathers while keeping an eye on the human activity below until, in unison, they take flight.