Each carved face carries a lineage word — in the Dama rite, the dead speak through wood before the living move.
The Kanaga cross reaches toward Amma the creator, while the cliff shelters seven hundred years of Dogon settlement.
Every chisel stroke stays visible in finished wood. The surface is not polished — it is preserved as evidence of making.
Thirty masked figures move as one column across the orange plaza, their footprints writing a script the wind will erase.