Just ask Aisso Oumar dite Niaboyro, a member of the CARE-supported Kirchamba's Women's Association and a 25-year-old "living library."

Niaboyro is a griot -- a keeper of the oral tradition of a noble family. Members of an ancient servant-class that also includes metal-smiths and serfs, griots typically serve high-caste families in their village and live in a unique, symbiotic relationship. It is the griot who memorizes the history and myths of her patron's lineage; most can recite the entire history of a family to ancient times. Older griots pass on this history to their children, who grow up to become their patron family's next oral historian. It is in part the curious role of the griot in maintaining Mali's strong oral traditions that prompted the Malian writer Amadou Hampaté Ba to say, "When an old person dies, a library burns."

The Syn blacksmith Bagi Kontao 85, is a member of the same servant-class as Niaboyro, and proud of the tradition that binds him, irrevocably, to his profession.

"Blacksmiths, weavers, carpenters: you learn only by tradition," he says, blinking blearily behind thick spectacles. Around him two generations of sons and grandsons hammer red-hot metal into nails that will be used to build fishing boats.

"It's an obligation, a family heritage, to do what your father has done. If my son doesn't become a blacksmith, he won't be able to get a wife! He'll have to leave the village!"

Most curious of all are the "serfs" who still serve the noble families that have employed and protected their ancestors for centuries. Agali Aberi , 60, is a self-described "peasant" and "servant" to the village chief in Chirfiga.

"I am proud to yield my hoe, to be a peasant," says Aberi, flipping his hoe in the air and catching it as it falls. Dressed in flowing robes, a blue cloth wrapped around his head to protect his mouth and nose from dust, he has spent the morning working in the rice fields of his "master." Aberi does not question the arrangement. His family has worked for another "since ancient times."

Servitude is a remnant of the ancient feudal system established by successive Malian empires. More a symbiotic relationship of workers to a powerful and protective master, servants such as Aberi are proud of their position and their family's history of service. Indeed, Aberi is typical in that he can recite a family myth about an ancestor "so tough no sword could penetrate him. The only thing that could kill him was the needle of a thorn tree."

Caste is not the only distinguishing feature of Malian society. Ethnicity and profession are still strongly tied to this country's ancient past. Mama Traoré , a local weaver from Syn, is a case in point.

"From ancient times we did not know the industrial life," he says, holding the skeins of his weavers threads by his toes as his hands dart in and out, creating colorful patterns on the cloth. "It's all original, the work I do."

Traoré is a weaver in the hot season, the downtime when rice farmers wait for the next planting season to begin. But his role is more formal than that. Weavers, like most every other role in Malian society, are artisans whose profession is tightly circumscribed by caste and heredity. Women might spin their own thread, but they must bring it to a professional weaver to have it made into clothe. And professional weavers almost always gain their designation via heredity. If your father was a weaver, chances are you will be too, as will your children.

"We are the inheritors of our parents," Traoré explains.

Heredity and caste explain the reason so many men of the Bozo tribe, such as Djenné boat-builder Almoudsin Tanapo , are fishermen and boat-builders. The Bozo people are found all along the banks of the Niger River; and although Mali's poverty has driven others to its banks, fishing is still considered their traditional provenance. It is an example of ethnic typecasting: Bozos are fishermen, Fulani are herders of livestock, Bambara are farmers, and so on. But the distinctions, in a society as anthropologically rich as Mali, go deeper.

Nama Troufo , 40, is a potter in Syn. She sits in her mud and brick house busily spinning a large cooking pot she hopes to sell to her neighbors. Since CARE has come to her village to help rice farmers, she is hopeful that her income will increase.

"If people have more money [from rice], they will buy a lot of pottery from me," she says.

Pottery is a good side-business during the farming down-season, but it is also her traditional role. As the wife of a blacksmith, it is customary for her to take up the craft.

Such strange and wonderful traditions are found across Malian society. Bozo women, for example, cannot fish from boats. Only Bozo men can use boats. Custom dictates that Bozo women fish from the river's banks, using specially designed baskets. Bella tribesmen are the traditional servants of the Tuareg. Blacksmiths cannot marry Fulani women, nor Dogon people marry Bozo. The list of these curious social separations of tribe, of profession and of caste go on and on, and are rooted in ancient, feudal systems that were thought to guarantee the smooth running of society. They form the rich layers of complexity that make Mali such a fascinating place. Another is the extraordinary long memory of Malians themselves.

"Before, we worked for the king," says Bagi Kontao, the blacksmith. "In the old days, when our people went to fight, the blacksmiths made swords. My ancestors were so famous that Mansa Moussa (the 13th century king) passed by this village on the way back from his pilgrimage to Mecca to commission a sword."

All along the river, we heard similar tales. "My ancestor refused to take his shoes off in front of the Fulani Emperor," says Alohamone Ibrahim Sangho 57, a griot in the village of Katoua and a member of the Fulani ethnic group. "He said to the Emperor: 'I am Fulani. My father was Fulani. You are Fulani. We are the same. Why should I take my shoes for you?'"

Such tales draw upon a history preserved through the amber of oral tradition. Even today, this tradition is so strong that an illiterate farmer in the most remote regions of the country can tell you the name of a 13th century Malian king. And although some traditions are fading, the intense pride Malians have for their rich history may explain the nation's collective conviction that they are one noble and indivisible people.